Wired

  “I’m good,” she assured him.

  “Are those ghouls leaving you alone?”

  “I’m ignoring them.”

  “You’d tell me if there were any more problems, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “I love you like a daughter. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I love you, too.”

  He let go of her and began giving orders. Allison changed into a wrap, sat in one of the makeup chairs, and waited while everyone scurried around her in a controlled panic. A curtain separated the different designers who were showing previews of next summer’s collections, and Giovanni’s assistant, Peter, was making certain no one got a peek at his creations.

  Giovanni had requested to be last. Allison was scheduled to model three different outfits. According to Giovanni, the showstopper was the evening gown she would wear for the finale.

  The show went off without a hitch. After walking the runway twice, oblivious of the crowd and the flashing lights, Allison returned to get ready for her last appearance. She sat in the chair, her posture ramrod straight, as Giovanni’s team worked their magic and transformed her into what they declared was their greatest achievement, a compliment that didn’t hold much weight since they told her that very thing every time they got her ready for a show. Her eye makeup was a smoky gray, and her hair was down, swaying below her shoulders except for one strand that had been twisted into a thin braid and pinned into a crown on top of her head.

  Once she was made up, Peter slipped the gown over her head. It was virginal white with a beaded low V-neck top. The beading cascaded down onto the gathered diaphanous silk skirt. When she walked, the fabric flowed as though she were a Greek goddess floating on air. Her curves made the gown all the more provocative with each step she took.

  At last she was ready for Giovanni’s approval. He finally appeared from behind the curtain and gave her the once-over. He seemed to be taken aback by the sight of her, and then he nodded.

  She stood near the double doors ready to make her entrance. Instead of blocking out the audience, this time she peeked around to look over the crowd. She was surprised by the number. Only those benefactors who had paid a steep price for a ticket were allowed to attend, but obviously crashers had gotten in somehow. They were five deep behind the last rows.

  There was a subtle change in the lighting and the music. The pulsing sound was deeper, building anticipation. Allison stood still, waiting for the tap on her shoulder telling her to walk, her mind racing. She did try, but she couldn’t disappear now. Her mind went to Liam. Could he be there in the crowd? It was a crazy thought, yet nothing would have surprised her. He’d shown up on the street when Will confronted her. He had been there when her car crashed down the hill. He might even have been at her graduation. He seemed to show up at the oddest times.

  At every show she’d ever done for Giovanni, his assistant would whisper something outrageous right before she started down the runway to help her relax. She thought he’d forgotten, but as it turned out, tonight was no exception.

  “Remember the three rules, Allison. No tripping, no smiling, and no puking on the guests.”

  She almost burst into laughter. No puking on guests? She wouldn’t be able to get that visual out of her mind anytime soon.

  Peter stood behind her, and when the music reached a crescendo, he touched Allison’s shoulder. “Go,” he whispered.

  She stepped around the corner. Her body went on autopilot, and she walked just the way she was supposed to, long-legged strides, head held high, devoid of any expression on her face. At the end of the runway, she assumed the pose for a second or two, then pivoted and headed back. Thunderous applause followed her.

  —

  While Allison was being transformed by Giovanni’s team, Jud Bronsky was waiting to be interviewed.

  An extremely unattractive man with a personality to match, Jud was built like a gorilla, a fact he was proud of because he believed his size and shape made him look more threatening, and in his line of work, that was an important requirement. Jud had long arms and legs and hair growing out of his knuckles and his ears. He wasn’t much for grooming. He did shave because he thought he looked younger than his thirty-two years without a beard, but that was as far as it went. Showering was only done when he was in the mood, which wasn’t all that often, but he believed his cologne was better than soap any day. His friends, what few he had, called him Tarzan, and Jud liked the nickname because it made him feel cocky.

  He wasn’t feeling cocky now. He was sitting in an interrogation room sweating bullets while he waited for the FBI agent to tell him why he was being detained. He was going to demand an attorney but wanted to wait until after he found out what he was going to be charged with. Maybe this was just a fishing expedition. Maybe he wasn’t even a suspect, and they didn’t know what he had done. That was it, he decided. They were just fishing for information.

  Jud was certain they didn’t have a shred of proof that he’d done anything wrong. The car he’d used to run the woman off the road was in the junkyard now, in line to be stripped and crushed. His cousin Eddie, who ran the junkyard, promised he’d get it done as soon as possible. As a precaution Jud had already wiped the car down. There wasn’t a single fingerprint anywhere. He’d been meticulous about that, making sure he didn’t miss any spots. No, the FBI didn’t have anything on him, and the only reason he was sitting there waiting was that they wanted information.

  He was a little apprehensive about the agent coming in to question him. He’d heard the other agents talking about him. They sounded respectful but also a little nervous. Jud decided it was all an act to scare him.

  He was wrong about that. Exactly thirty seconds after Special Agent Liam Scott walked into the interrogation room, Jud was shaking in his boots.

  Another agent walked in first. He took up a position by the observation window with his arms folded, silent and watchful. Then Liam Scott walked in. He dropped a file on the table and, towering over Jud, said, “You’re being charged with attempted murder.”

  “What? No, I didn’t try to murder anyone. I didn’t.”

  Liam acted as though Jud hadn’t protested and continued. “I’d get a good attorney if I were you because, when I’m done with you, you could be going away for the rest of your life.”

  In all the times he’d been dragged into a police station, Jud had never been told to get an attorney. The detectives usually tried to discourage him. This agent was different.

  “You don’t have anything on me,” he stammered. “I don’t need an attorney because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  The bluff didn’t work. “There are highway surveillance cameras showing you tailing Allison Trent. We found your car, you prick. You tried to kill the woman I love. I just may kill you myself, right here and now.”

  The look in the agent’s eyes sent chills down Jud’s spine. “I didn’t even know the woman. Why would I want to kill her?” he asked, trying to sound sincere.

  “We’ll ask your cousin Eddie when he testifies against you.”

  Jud knew he was cornered. He had been hoping the agent was lying about finding the car, but now Jud knew he was telling the truth. Damn his cousin. Eddie hadn’t done what he’d been told. He’d promised to destroy the car, and Jud had given him a hundred dollars to do it quick. What a slacker, he thought.

  Liam checked the time and turned to leave. Allison was at the Hamilton, and he needed to see her, to make certain she was all right. There were two agents with her, but he wouldn’t stop worrying until she was by his side.

  “Book him,” he ordered as he reached for the door.

  “Wait.” In a panic, Jud blurted, “I want a deal. For a lesser charge I’ll give you the name of the man who hired me. Just charge me with a misdemeanor.”

  Liam laughed. “For attempted murder?”

  “I
wasn’t trying to kill her, I tell you. Going down the hill like that was an accident. I was only trying to get her to stop, but I hit her bumper too hard.”

  “Why were you trying to get her to stop?”

  “I was supposed to steal her laptop.”

  Liam put his hands flat on the table and leaned over. “Who were you working for?”

  “Do we have a deal?” He looked from Liam to the other agent expectantly.

  “Depends,” Liam said. “What can you give us?”

  Jud persisted. “I want a deal first.”

  “You help us out, we’ll help you,” Liam offered.

  Jud took a deep breath and said, “Fred Stiles.”

  “What about Stiles?” Liam asked.

  “He’s the guy who hired me. You see? I’m cooperating.”

  Liam knew Bronsky wasn’t finished confessing. His body language said as much. He was squirming in his chair and couldn’t look Liam in the eyes.

  “It wasn’t an attempted murder,” Jud insisted. “I was just supposed to take her laptop and make her come with me.” He dared a quick glance up and wished he hadn’t. The agent looked as though his anger was ready to erupt.

  “Where were you going to take her?” Liam asked.

  “I didn’t know. I was just supposed to get her and then call for a location to drop her off. The only thing I was told was that she was supposed to finish some program. I figured the less I knew, the better. I didn’t want her to get hurt, and I would have gone down that hill to see if she was okay, honest, but I saw a car coming, and I had to get out of there.”

  “Where is Stiles now?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since he gave me the job. Stiles can be a real badass if you don’t come through for him. He always gets what he wants. I figure if I lie low for a while, he’ll calm down. My guess is he’s already got somebody else to do the job. One thing I know for sure about him, he won’t give up. He’ll send . . .”

  Liam was out the door before Jud finished his sentence.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Once behind the curtain, Allison let Peter carefully remove the gown. After dressing in her silk skirt and blouse, she sat in front of a mirror and unwound her braid. She brushed her hair and thought of Liam. She had actually expected to see him in the crowd. The longer he stayed on her mind, the angrier she became and the harder she brushed. A few minutes later, her hair was shiny and straight, and her anger had subsided. She finally came to the realization that she was being completely irrational. She just wanted to feel sorry for herself. How could she not? she justified. In the last few weeks she’d been told she’d ruined innumerable lives. She had ruined Will’s life because she hadn’t kept him out of prison. She’d ruined her aunt’s and uncle’s lives because she wouldn’t lie for them in court. And, oh yes, she had also ruined Brett’s and Stiles’s lives because she wouldn’t let them steal her work.

  Were they all crazy? Or was she? The question merited thought.

  She took a cotton ball and some mineral oil and removed the eye shadow. She’d wash off the rest of the makeup when she got home, she decided. The FBI agents would be waiting for her.

  The party had moved inside to the ballroom, where the air-conditioning cooled the guests, and food and beverages were in abundance. Giovanni was the star, as usual.

  Allison was leaving the dressing room when Peter found her and handed her her purse. “Your boyfriend is here,” he said. “He wanted me to remind you that you’re supposed to wait for him in the garden.”

  She started to tell him she didn’t have a boyfriend, then changed her mind. “What did he look like?”

  “How many boyfriends do you have?”

  “Too many to count,” she answered. “Now, please tell me. What did he look like?”

  “He’s kind of tall, with blond tips in his hair, and to be honest, darling, I think you should tell him to stop using so much self-tanner.”

  She froze. Oh God, he was describing Brett. He might have been there to threaten her. Then again, he had it in him to be violent. She’d witnessed his temper tantrums. She wasn’t going to panic.

  “Are you all right?” Peter asked. “You’ve gone pale.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Peter turned to go back to the party, and she called after him, “Tell Giovanni I’ll talk to him later. I’m leaving.”

  “No need to hurry, Allison. I’m here now.” Brett spoke from right behind her.

  She started to run for the doors, but Brett anticipated the move and latched onto her upper arm. He jerked her around to face him. They were the only two in the dressing room. Everyone else had gone to the party. There wasn’t anyone to help her.

  His eyes glowed with his hatred. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Why?”

  “You have to fix this mess you created. You stole everything from me. I want you to give it back.”

  “I stole from you?” She was so astonished by his absurd remark she had to pause for a second. “You tried to take my work and pass it off as your own.”

  He squeezed her arm even harder until she cried out. “I ordered a new car, and now I can’t pay for it, and I bought a condo down in South Beach, but they want the money or the deal is off, and I don’t have any money because of you. You took all that from me, and you’re going to give it back.”

  She couldn’t believe how he could justify his actions. “You think saying it’s yours makes it yours? I’m not giving you my work.”

  “It’s mine. I worked on that program for a long time, and you can’t prove I didn’t.”

  “You’re delirious. You’ll never get away with it.”

  She could see panic overtaking him. He shook her hard. She was surprised by his strength. “You humiliated me in front of my peers and my investor,” he said.

  “Do you mean Stiles?”

  “Of course I mean Stiles. He’s going to see I followed through on my promise to make us millions. I shouldn’t have gone to him. . . . I shouldn’t have asked him for money, but I didn’t realize how dangerous he was, and now . . . Please, Allison.” His bravado was beginning to vanish and now he just sounded pathetic.

  “Let go of me,” she demanded.

  “All I need is the missing code, and you have to give it to me.”

  Brett was desperate. He’d gotten in over his head and now he was drowning. “No.” She tried to peel his hand away, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “I already have buyers,” he said. “I can make it worth your while. Just let me have the whole program, and I’ll give you a cut.”

  “No.”

  He looked desperate. “You’re coming with me, and you’re giving me the entire program. He’ll kill me if I don’t get it.”

  “You’re going to have to drag me out of here, and there are two men outside who aren’t going to let you do that.”

  “I’ve seen them. You don’t think I haven’t planned a way out?”

  “In about five seconds I’m going to start screaming.”

  “I didn’t want to do this,” he said. He pulled a pistol out of his pocket and showed it to her before putting it back, with his hand on the trigger and the barrel pointing at her.

  “Where did you get that gun?” She was so shocked she could barely think.

  “Stiles gave it to me.”

  “My God, Brett. You aren’t a killer. You need to get away from him,” she said. “And get rid of that gun.”

  He acted as though he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “I swear I’m going to shoot you if you don’t get moving. If I can’t have that program, you’re not going to be able to sell it, either. I don’t have any problem killing you.”

  He pressed the gun into her side and pushed her toward the doors that led to the garden. She opened the doors, took a step through them, and stopped.

  “Move,” B
rett ordered as he gave a shove to her ribs.

  “I’m sorry, Brett,” she said.

  “For what?” he asked sarcastically. “Making my life miserable?”

  “No, I’m sorry you’re about to get shot. I imagine it’s going to hurt like the blazes.”

  Brett took a step forward, and that was when he saw Liam standing outside the door with his gun drawn.

  “Get out of my way,” Brett shouted. “I’m not going to hurt her. We’re just going to work on our program, and I’m driving her home.” He was scrambling for words, his hand still on his gun.

  “Let go of her and put your hands up,” Liam ordered.

  Brett shook his head and pulled Allison closer.

  “He has a gun,” she warned.

  “I know.” Liam’s voice was calm and steady. “Put your hands up,” he repeated.

  Brett reacted. He yanked the gun from his pocket and was raising it when Liam fired. Before Brett finished his first howl of pain, Liam had grabbed the gun from his hand and pulled Allison away from him.

  “You shot me,” Brett cried. “You shot my arm.”

  Liam nodded. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  The other two agents came running. Allison moved close to Liam and watched Brett being handcuffed. As one of the agents carted him away, Brett clutched his arm and demanded to be driven to a hospital. The second agent turned to Liam. “We’ll take it from here,” he said, and then turned to Allison. “I can send a car for you.”

  “I’ll take you home, Allison,” Liam stated in his no-nonsense, “don’t argue with me” voice.

  “Wait a minute. What are you doing here?” she asked. The fact that he had appeared out of nowhere had just hit her. “Did you know Brett was coming?”

  Liam wanted to get out of there and tried to pull her along, but she wasn’t cooperating. Seeing that she wasn’t going to wait for an answer, he decided to give in. “I came here for you,” he began, and before she could react, he continued. “I knew someone was going to come after you, and I wanted to get you out of here and make sure you were safe. If anything ever happened to you . . .”