I take a quick glance at him. “Do you think all will return to normal?”

  “I have to say, at the moment, I think so.”

  The tension falls out of my shoulders as I sigh relieved. “Okay then, what’s the proposition?”

  “How about we table this conversation for now?”

  I turn to glance at him again and he winks at me. I can let it drop. It sounds as though he wants to discuss a career option and now is certainly not the time to make that kind of decision—even if I’m curious as hell to hear what Jack has to offer. First I just want to find Vince and then marry him. However, the good thing is that I have Jack exactly where I want him.

  “I just want to know one thing,” I say.

  He looks at me suspiciously. “What?”

  “You must have a guess why Peter Oslo would kidnap Vince.”

  Jack sighs again. I realize I have an advantage: he hates being sharp with me. I’m pretty sure it’s already tearing him up inside. And I hate making him too uncomfortable, so I tread lightly.

  “Oslo is one of those guys who hates to lose.”

  A rush of relief flows through me. Now I’m getting somewhere. I narrow an eye inquisitively. “So when he sold you his shares in A&Rt Media, it was because he lost?”

  Jack cracks a smile, shaking his head.

  I’m sure he sees me as a gnat that just won’t go away. I try to mask a victorious smile. “So what did you have on him?”

  Jack tilts his head to assess me. He’s done that a number of times already. I keep the look of expectation in my eyes.

  “I’ll be back.” He goes into his Bat Cave on the airplane, and I take another bite of the chicken potpie that I’ve already let get too cold.

  In a flash, Jack returns with another computer tablet. He seems to have an endless supply of them. After pulling something up on the screen, he hands me the device. I clutch it, but he doesn’t let go.

  I raise my eyebrows. “What?”

  “This doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you everything you want to know.”

  I nod like an eager puppy dog. I really want to see what’s on the screen.

  Jack releases the device, but the screen is dark.

  “There’s nothing on it,” I say.

  “Press your thumb on the identification button at the bottom.”

  I tilt my head toward Jack. “You have my fingerprints programed on this?”

  Jack snickers. “The answer to that is no. I set it in a mode for you to view exactly what I want you to view.”

  “But why does it need my thumbprint?”

  “So the device knows you’re not me.”

  I press my thumb to the button at the bottom of the screen. The screen turns on immediately, showing photos of a man who looks to be in his sixties engaging in sexual acts with very young prostitutes. The longer I study the images, the farther my jaw drops. “Is this Peter Oslo?”

  “Yes.”

  I shake my head. “So you blackmailed him with these photos?”

  “You’ve heard of the CVCP?” he says.

  “Yeah. The ultra-right-wing purist group who fund projects of interest.”

  Jack nods. “Peter Oslo is on the board of directors.”

  Suddenly, I’m struck by illumination. “But you had those photos before you used them to make him sell his interest in A&Rt Media. Why?”

  Jack smirks as he studies me. “That’s a very good question you asked, Maggie. However, I will tell you that my interest in Peter Oslo has nothing to do with his hypocrisy.”

  Suddenly, Jack’s seat buzzes. Before I can ask what’s going on, he races back to the Bat Cave. I’m on his heels. Once we’re in the small room full of electronic equipment, Jack works a number of dials.

  “Gray?” Jack says as he glances at me.

  He’s not only let me in the room, but he also let me listen to this call. I nod, thankful for the access he’s giving me.

  “Somehow, Randall was able to get a message to Oslo. He knows you’re looking for him, so now Oslo’s on the run.”

  Jack curses under his breath. An intense frown hijacks his face. He’s looking slightly to the left, which means he’s visualizing his memories. I wonder how he left this Randall guy. By the looks of the situation, he left the man alive but incapacitated.

  “So where’s he going?” Jack asks.

  “He’s going to New York, but before he boarded the flight, he had a conversation with Dale Finley,” Gray says.

  “And what was said?”

  “He was wondering why you’re on his tail.”

  Jack grunts thoughtfully. “He would know why if he had anything to do with Vince’s disappearance.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Gray says.

  “Me too,” I say.

  Jack frowns at me as if he’s giving me that look as an afterthought.

  He turns his scowl back to his contraption. “He’s flying into Teterboro?”

  “Yes he is,” Gray says.

  “That means he’s running scared. He has people to keep him safe in New York.”

  “So what are you going to do?” I ask.

  Jack gives me that look again—the one that says he’s trying to figure out how much disclosure to grant me.

  “Who are his pilots?” Jack asks.

  “Lionel Armstrong and Ben Taylor.”

  Jack sits down in front of the console. “Maggie, could you please return to the cabin?”

  I’m about to whine, but I think better of it. Back in my hotel in Denver, I agreed to not ask questions if he brought me with him. I’ve broken our agreement so many times, and he hasn’t put me on the first flight back to Denver, at least not yet. But if I keep pressing my luck, he probably will.

  I go quietly back to the cabin. As soon as I take my seat, the flight attendant comes out to ask if I would like a snack or beverage. I take advantage of the fancy menu and order a vanilla latte.

  As I wait for my caffeine fix, I try to keep my nerves in check. Still, I can’t get Peter Oslo out of my head. We’re missing a variable. Peter doesn’t know anything about Vince’s disappearance, yet the thug, Douglas Randall, warned him about Jack. I wonder how dangerous Jack is. Apparently, scary men run and hide from him. I also remember Vince telling me that Gabrielle, his former fiancée and Peter’s daughter, had a strange sort of incestuous relationship with her father.

  Suddenly, a thought hits me. I leap out of my seat and run to Jack’s private room. I try to turn the knob, but the door is locked, so I knock.

  “Would you like me to keep your latte warm?” the flight attendant asks.

  I jump, startled. “Um, yes please.”

  The door opens. There’s a stark contrast between the dim and the cabin.

  I check over my shoulder to make sure the flight attendant is out of sight. She hasn’t made her way to the room where the food is prepared.

  “Can I come in please?” I say, sounding eager.

  Jack studies me shrewdly then finally steps back.

  I close the door behind me. “Gabrielle. She’s the one behind Vince’s disappearance.”

  Jack rubs his top lip contemplatively. “That’s very good, Mags. Follow me.”

  I have pep in my step as I follow him back to the console. I feel as if I’ve finally proven my worth. Plus, the thought of Vince’s crazy ex-fiancée snatching him sits better with me than a bitter businessman kidnapping him. At least Vince has the edge. He’s smart enough to play Gabrielle for as long as he needs in order to escape her clutches. And I’m sure he knows I’m looking for him.

  I grab my heart and take a breath of relief as Jack continues talking to the pilots of Peter Oslo’s aircraft. I close my eyes for a moment, hoping Vince feels me with him. A tingle ignites in my body, and I skip a breath.

  “He’s alive.” I grip the back of a chair to control the emotion surging through me. “He’s definitely alive.”

  Jack and I stare into each other’s eyes, and he nods. He may be placating me again, but I don’t care. I know I’m right.

  Chapter Ten

  ROBERT TANGO

  I’m watching the women duke it out over the details. We’re inside an elaborate barn at Reinhardt Ranch. I guess this is where they’re going to hold the ceremony. Monroe can’t stop shaking her head as she examines the haystacks and the dry wooden benches flanking the aisle.

  “Who the fuck picked this place to have a wedding? I know for sure Maggie didn’t.”

  “You’re the one who said Maggie preferred the rustic look,” Maddie says.

  Monroe shoots her a look that could take out an army. “No way…” She looks at Daisy. “We have three days to turn this shit around.”

  “I’m not letting you do this. This is Vincent’s favorite place.”

  “To fucking ride a horse! Not have a wedding!”

  Maddie whips her face toward Anne. “Mom, say something.”

  So far, Daisy has been winning these battles, but her lips are still parted in awe. Even I have to concede that this venue is a dump. Allie’s slated to get married next. I bet she would never say I do in this shit-shack.

  I turn and catch Carter watching me, which makes me aware that I’m smirking. I wink at her, and she cracks a tiny smile.

  “So what’s going on between you and Carter?” Allie says.

  I jump. She’s right on my left shoulder. I didn’t even see her standing there.

  “Didn’t you ask that already?”

  “And you lied.”

  “If you think I’m lying, then why do you keep asking?”

  She’s about to answer that when my phone rings in my pocket. I raise a finger, secure my phone, and hurry out of the barn-house junkyard.

  My shoulders slump in disappointment when I check out the name on the screen. I was hoping it was Jack calling to say Vince has been found.

  “Hi, Zoe,” I say, answering my assistant’s call.

  “I know you’re away this week, and I really, really, really didn’t want to call you, but I didn’t know what to do.”

  I walk across the dusty ground on my way to the parking lot. “It’s okay. What’s going on?” I look down at my shoes. They’re covered in dirt. I try to stomp as much of it off as I can before I get into the car. Then I settle in behind the steering wheel. “What’s going on?”

  “Just thought I’d let you know that we’re very close to not submitting our bid for the Atlantic Metropolitan Library Project. It’s supposed to be submitted by eight tomorrow morning.”

  “It hasn’t been submitted yet?”

  “No,” she says sharply.

  I can sense how stressed she is.

  “Why not?”

  “Because of Grace.”

  Sighing, I rub the inside corners of my eyes. Of course Grace is the reason for the delay. I gave her full operating control of Kennedy Creative Interior Designs, a subsidiary of RT Creative, but that hasn’t made her more of a team player. We have a running joke around the office about Grace’s hiring choices. We call it the three-week cliff. No one she’s hired has lasted for more than three weeks. In two months, she’s gone through six employees. I let it go on for far too long because I’ve been busy trying to make a name for RT Creative in architecture firms around the nation, but it’s about time to get Kennedy Creative Interior Designs in line.

  Unfortunately, today is not the time. I offered Grace the opportunity to add an interior design plan to the proposal to make our bid look stronger and to help get the subsidiary higher off the ground.

  I’m still rubbing my eyes as I try to think. “Have you received the proposal from the architectural team?”

  “Yes.” I can tell by Zoe’s tone that she’s relieved I asked that question.

  All of a sudden, there’s a knock on the passenger-side window, and I quickly look over to see Anne waving.

  I wave her inside the car. “Then submit it,” I say to Zoe.

  She sighs with relief. “Thank you.”

  Anne gets into the passenger seat, and I cradle my phone closer to my face. “No, thank you for staying on top of this. I’ll see you on Monday, Zoe.”

  “You’re welcome, and sure, see you on Monday,” she says.

  We hang up.

  “What’s really going on with Vince?” Anne asks before I can open my mouth to speak.

  “Nothing.”

  “Robert….” She tilts her head to study me shrewdly.

  “He’s really okay, Anne. I promise you.”

  “Then why are you scratching the tip of your nose?”

  Shit. I clutch the steering wheel with both hands. “Because it itches.”

  Anne wiggles a finger. “You’re lying to me,” she sings.

  I stare right into her green eyes. Looking at her is almost like watching Vince. Vince looks more like his mother than Simon, his father, who more than likely will not show up for the ceremony. Simon’s estranged from Anne because he left her for another woman. His daughters stopped talking to him because of it. But Vince hadn’t cut ties with his father. He has a meal or a drink with Simon every now and then. Sometimes I join them. He’s a good guy, whose only crime was falling in love with another woman. Regardless, lying to the people I care about used to be easier.

  “Vince is in New York,” I say.

  Anne rubs an eyelid like she’s frustrated. “Is he hurt?”

  “No,” I say as if I really believe it. The truth is I don’t know, but I hope not.

  She shakes her head as she gazes straight out the window. “I just don’t know.”

  I watch her, wishing I could tell her the truth—but I can’t. She would call the police and tell everyone Vince was kidnapped by treacherous killers, then his story would be headlining the evening news tonight at eight. “I know how all this sounds, but this situation is one of those rare deals.”

  “Well…” She sighs resignedly. “He did have to fly back to New York on Friday to handle some work issue. I didn’t understand it then, either. I tried to make him see that this wedding is really important.”

  “Right,” I say, figuring I should let her continue driving down the road she’s going.

  “It’s just…” Her frown intensifies.

  “Listen, Anne, I’m sure Vince will call you as soon as he can.”

  “Has he contacted you?”

  I shake my head. “Net yet. But, you know, when Vince is in the middle of the fire, he gets single-minded.”

  “Yes, that is true. He’s always been that way, even when he was a little boy. He’d spend hours building those model building sets.”

  I snicker. “I remember that.”

  We’re silent, and I’m hoping like hell Anne’s ready to end this conversation.

  “Okay… I better get back in there before the girls tear each other into pieces.”

  “Right,” I say with a nervous laugh.

  Anne searches my expression again, and I try to look as innocent as a first-semester Catholic schoolgirl. Finally, she opens the door and gets out. I watch her until she scurries back into the barn.

  I lay my seat back, rest my head, and close my eyes until they’re done. I’ve had enough of bickering women for the day. I don’t get to rest long—soon Daisy and Monroe are back in the car, talking about leaving early the next morning to find another venue for the wedding. Monroe tells me that I don’t have to worry about tagging along—she’s going to drive one of the cars at the house. I don’t protest. I’m over this wedding business. I would rather sit around and twiddle my thumbs as I wait for Jack to find Vince.

  I struggle to stay alert as I drive to the Belcaro Park neighborhood, which is about twenty minutes from Anne’s house. However, I wake right up as soon as we pull into the driveway of Jack’s residence, which looks like a redbrick Victorian castle. The guy has exquisite architectural taste, that’s for sure.

  I drive slowly up the driveway, which cuts through the emerald lawn. “Nice house,” I say, noticing how thick and green the trees are.

  Daisy smiles. “Belmont’s mother and father used to live here. He’s done a lot of work on it in the past two years.”

  “Right,” I say, remembering the Lords did live in this neighborhood. It’s strange to remember that Charlie and Jack are also from Denver, and we all attended the same high school. I used to see Jack a lot on campus, and he always looked busy. Vince and I used to joke about him acting more like a teacher than a student. He even parked his Beamer in the faculty parking lot, and the principal let him do it. I tried that once, and my F-150 got towed. Though I’d always felt like asking why Jack got special treatment, I didn’t. Hell, I probably believed he deserved it.

  I stop in front of the door and help Daisy and Monroe with their luggage. Once inside, I’m struck by the smell of new furniture and new construction. The interior is designed like a contemporary English country home with grand but clean armoires and large sofas, chairs, and tables, and modern chandeliers hang from high ceilings. I take Daisy’s luggage to her bedroom, which is an enormous but comfortable space. She hands me a garage door opener and directs me to the garage at the back of the house. Before I store my car for the evening, I carry my things to one of the second-floor guest rooms at the south end of the house, far away from the room Monroe’s sleeping in.

  After I fall on the bed a few times to test the mattress, which is like sleeping on a piece of heaven, I zip back to my car and drive to the garage. I park next to a burgundy Range Rover. A BMW Roadster is parked on the other side of the SUV. I’m surprised those are all the cars Jack owns. He has one for the snow and one for warm days like today, but I can tell neither has been driven in a while.

  I reenter the house through a door in the garage. I mosey down a brick hallway and past an empty kennel until I reach an opened door. As soon as I walk in, I’m struck by the smell of wine that’s being cooked with food and tasty spices. I pass the kitchen, where a woman in a chef’s coat and hat is at the stove; smoke is rising from a pan as she stirs the ingredients inside it.

  I pop my head into the kitchen. “Excuse me.”

  The chef turns around. She’s in her forties and pretty attractive. “Yes, sir?”