She turned to Michael. "Listen, I appreciate your dropping off my wallet, but I need to search the cabin for my keys ..." She paused as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the leather strip that held both the key to the cabin and the one to Bennett's truck.
Their gazes locked. "Don't make it hard on yourself, Jamie. I don't want to shove you into my car at gunpoint. Just get in."
She stood frozen to her spot. She had not realized Fleas had followed her out, but he nudged her with his wet nose.
"Tell you what. I'll be a nice guy and let you bring the mutt. You know I like him. Shall we?" He put his hand under her elbow and prodded her toward the Jaguar. Jamie did as she was told. He paused long enough to let Fleas get into the back, and then opened the passenger door for Jamie. She hesitated.
"Get in, Jamie."
She got in. She waited until he'd climbed in on the other side before she spoke. "What do you want with me, Nick?" she asked.
He smiled and started the car. "So you've finally figured it out. I simply want to talk to you, that's all."
"Why can't we talk here?"
"I don't want any interruptions from your boyfriend, Mr. Holt."
"Max is not my boyfriend."
"So you say." He started the car and pulled from the driveway.
Jamie tried to remain calm even as the fear began to build inside her with every heartbeat. "Where are you taking me?"
"Some place where we can talk in private. My home." He hit the automatic lock.
She grimaced in the dark. She was as good as dead.
Chapter Sixteen
"What have we got?" Muffin asked once Max had scoped out the property surrounding Last Chance Auto Salvage.
Max began pulling out tools from behind the seat and stuffing them into a backpack. "High-voltage fencing, razor wire, top-of-the line security system, and a bad-ass pit bull."
"Hmm. I didn't realize it was so difficult to find good used automotive parts."
Max slipped on the backpack. "Yeah, well, I have a feeling there's a lot more going on in this place than buying and selling auto parts."
"How far away did you park?" Muffin asked.
"Quarter of a mile. Hard to see clearly because of the fog. I don't think anyone is home, but I don't want to risk Nick or his buddies seeing the truck."
"I can probably take care of the dog."
"Probably?" Max said. "You don't sound too certain, and this dog looks mean as hell."
"I can produce an ultrasonic sound of up to two miles, Max, but you realize I'm only going to be able to distract the animal for a matter of minutes. Once he gets accustomed to the sound he'll go after you. I hope you have pepper spray."
"Yeah."
"You'll have to radio me when you're going in and out. I'll hit him with everything I've got, but I can't make any promises."
"I'll be in touch." Max turned on his flashlight and took off on foot. The light seemed to make the fog worse instead of better. The dog was waiting for him when he arrived back at the salvage yard. He barked and snarled as Max donned thick rubber gloves and cut the fence with special wire cutters that would prevent him from suffering a bad shock.
He picked up his cell phone, punched a button, and radioed Muffin. "I'm ready to go in."
"Are you familiar with the security system?"
"Yeah. It's above standard but nothing I can't handle."
"You may not have more than two or three minutes, Max. Here we go."
Max knew the minute Muffin turned on the high-frequency noise-producing sound, not because he heard it but because the dog suddenly reared his head back and shook it hard. Max peeled back a portion of the fence as the dog seemed to forget everything else for the moment except the noise. He yelped and raced away.
Max very carefully slipped past the fence and ran toward the building. He pulled off one glove, reaching into his shirt pocket where he'd tucked a thin but high-powered flashlight. He held it between his teeth and opened the box. Grabbing a screwdriver from his pocket, he shut down the alarm system within seconds.
"I'm in," Max said, once he'd gone through the heavy metal door.
"I see you haven't lost your touch," Muffin said. "I just turned off the noise."
Max crossed a room with a counter and several hard plastic chairs. "I'm in the reception area." He continued down a hall, past a small kitchen, toward the back of the building. He stopped short when he spied a crisscross of blue lights in front of a set of heavy metal doors.
"Aw, shit!"
"What is it?" Muffin asked.
"Lasers."
"You know what that means," Muffin said.
"Yeah. I'm in the right place."
* * * * *
Jamie was quiet as Nick turned on yet another mountain road that seemed to lead farther away from civilization. The fog had worsened, making the ride hazardous, but Nick didn't seem to notice. Jamie gripped the armrest with each twist and turn. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach as she wondered what his plans were.
"You're awfully quiet, Jamie."
"Sorry if I don't feel like playing twenty questions, but my mind is preoccupied."
He chuckled softly. "I know the feeling. I haven't been able to sleep lately. Can't seem to shut off my brain. Have you ever felt like time was running out?"
What a question, she thought. She eyed the locked door. "I think I can relate."
He reached over and took her hand. "I'm sorry if I've frightened you. All I want is for us to talk." He slowed the car and pulled up to a wrought-iron gate. Attached to it was a massive brick wall that Jamie had seen in a photo only hours before.
Nick pushed a button, and his window whispered down. He spoke into a tiny speaker, and the gate immediately slid open. He drove through it, and Jamie watched it close behind them.
"Now, how about that cup of coffee?" Nick said once he'd cut the engine and parked.
Jamie merely shrugged. She remained quiet as he helped her from the car and opened the back door for Fleas. The dog jumped out and shook hard, his ears flapping back and forth.
Jamie glanced around as if impressed by what she saw beneath the tall lighted poles when what she was looking for was an escape route. She noted the outbuildings, heard dogs barking in the distance. The place was probably heavily guarded. She suspected the brick wall encompassed the entire area.
There was no way out.
A man dressed in black emerged from the shadows, two Doberman pinschers beside him, each straining on the leash. Jamie jumped. She recognized him immediately, the man who'd caught her writing down his license tag number, the man who'd taken her notepad. That meant he and Nick knew everything she and Max had been able to find out since arriving in Sweet Pea.
Fleas growled. Nick reached for his collar. "Get the dogs out of here, Rudy."
The man gave Jamie a slow easy smile and walked away, disappearing once more into the dark.
Nick continued holding Fleas's collar. "It's OK, boy," he said. "Don't worry about the dogs, Jamie. I have to keep them on the property due to prowlers."
Yeah, right, she thought.
Together they managed to get Fleas inside the cabin. Jamie was surprised at the dog's aggressiveness; he obviously sensed something wasn't right. She kept petting him, offering him reassurance.
The cabin was spacious and definitely masculine. There wasn't a woman's touch anywhere, not even in the fully equipped kitchen, with its black lacquered cabinets and stainless-steel appliances. A red, black, and yellow abstract painting gave off the only color in the room.
If she lived she would be able to tell her friends she had gotten to see the inside of a killer's house.
Nick walked to the refrigerator. "I offered you coffee, but I have wine if you prefer it."
She didn't need to get drunk; she needed to get out. "Actually, a glass of water would be fine."
"Certainly." He grabbed two glasses from one of the cabinets and filled them from the refrigerator dispenser. He handed her one of the glasses be
fore reaching for a box of dog biscuits. He offered it to Fleas, but the dog backed away. "Suit yourself, boy."
"He was obviously spooked by your dogs," Jamie said, thinking Fleas was probably smarter than her for not accepting from a man like Nick anything that would be ingested. "He'll be OK in a minute or two."
"Let's sit in the living room."
Like she had a choice. Jamie took the glass and followed him once more, the hound on her heels. She sat down on the leather sofa and was surprised when Nick took the chair next to it instead of sitting beside her.
He looked at her. "You're surprised I'm not already all over you, aren't you, Jamie?" he asked as though reading her mind.
"Well, I—"
"That's why you've felt safe with me all this time. I'm different from most men because I don't try to paw you and get you into my bed. I'm certain a woman with your looks is accustomed to men making unwanted advances."
Jamie remained quiet and took a sip of her water. She would not let him know how nervous she was.
"It's because I respect you. You're different from other women. I'm sorry I had to lie to you in order to make your acquaintance, but there was no other way." He paused. "But then, you lied to me as well. You were willing to use a man you thought had just lost his sister in order to get information from him."
"You said you wanted to talk."
"I want you to know the truth about me, Jamie. I want you to know who and what I am. I'm hoping you'll somehow find a way to understand."
Jamie set her glass down on the table. "I'm supposed to understand what you do for a living, Nick?" she said in disbelief. "Are you serious?"
"If I did half of what I was reputed to have done I wouldn't have time to sleep."
"Did you kill Dave Anderson?"
"Absolutely not. I've never even met the man. He was trespassing on my property, and one of the dogs bit him."
"What about Harlan?"
He shook his head, a sad smile touching his lips. "I don't know why people assume I killed him. I can assure you I did not. Harlan and I were business associates, and we had a very lucrative working relationship."
"You were blackmailing him, extorting money."
"On the contrary, I was protecting him."
"From whom?"
Nick chuckled. "Mostly from himself, dear. Harlan Rawlins had an appetite for women, and he was known to get carried away."
"Did he hurt someone?"
"Even men of God make mistakes. And, yes, he did hurt a woman. Very badly, I might add. He called me in the middle of the night, and I took care of it."
"How?"
"I saw to it the woman had immediate medical attention, that she was paid very well for her, um, trouble, and that Harlan's name never came up."
"Why would you protect a man like that?"
Nick arched one brow. "Why?" He stood. "Jamie, I'm a businessman and a realist. Harlan was a human being like the rest of us. He used poor judgment. But look at what he accomplished. I am the one who insisted he hire a bodyguard, not only out of concern for crazy religious fanatics who might take offense over his teachings but to make certain Harlan remained stable. The man had a lot of emotional problems, Jamie. And I supplied more protection by having security personnel travel with the ministry. Harlan never had to worry about someone torching one of his tents. I even hired his administrative assistant and public relations person to give Harlan a little more polish. He was just a country preacher before I took over. I made him a star in just a few years. Was I wrong to collect a salary?"
Jamie didn't know how to respond. Nick Santoni had just painted a very appealing picture of himself. "Did you hire a hit man to take out Max?"
Nick laughed out loud. Jamie shot him a dark look. "I'm sorry, Jamie, but if you knew how that sounded. People like me don't hire hit men, they hire good attorneys."
"What do you mean?"
"Meaning, Harlan and I put together a large and legitimate bid on Max Holt's TV network, but it was ignored, and their dealings with me weren't fair or legal. I was planning to sue Max. Why would I pay someone to kill a man when I can take that man to court and win a considerable amount of money?"
He was good, Jamie thought, but then Nick Santoni had obviously practiced. "Who do you think killed Harlan?"
"I think his wife did it. Harlan was cruel to her."
"What do you want with me, Nick?"
"I like you, Jamie. I'd like for us to have the opportunity to get to know one another. I'm leaving Sweet Pea in a matter of hours. I've chartered a plane, and I want you on it with me."
"Am I being held against my will?"
He looked amused. "That wall is there to keep people out, not in. You are free to walk out that door anytime you like. At the same time, you must realize you're at risk."
"What do you mean?"
"The police are looking for Harlan's killer. You were the last person to see him alive. I can protect you should the police somehow learn of your visit, should they find out who and where you are." He paused. "I can give you the kind of life you've never dreamed of."
Jamie just stared at him. Why did he want her with him? He wasn't in love with her. He hadn't had time to fall in love with her.
"Jamie?"
She looked at him. "I can't do that, Nick." His jaw stiffened, and his eyes became dark.
"Because of Holt?" he asked, his words clipped and precise.
Jamie saw the change come over him. It had been so subtle in the car, but the Nick Santoni she was looking at now was the man Max had tried to warn her about.
"It's a known fact, Jamie: You're Max Holt's girl."
"His girl?"
"His woman. But I want you. I can offer you the kind of life you always wanted."
Jamie stared openly.
"I have made it my business to find out about you. I know what you desire the most," he added in the gentlest of voices. "I will make all your dreams come true, Jamie."
Jamie was almost in awe. Nick Santoni was good. Damn good. He knew how to draw people in, seduce them, practically hypnotize them. She could see how many women could be lured in by him.
"You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders anymore, Jamie. I'll be there."
"What about Max?"
"You hold his life in your hands. If you go with me, I will see that nothing happens to him. If you don't, all bets are off."
* * * * *
Max studied the wires carefully. Santoni had spent a ton of money on his inside security system, and although it was state-of-the-art and the best available on the current market, Max knew the system well because he'd used it as a baseline to design his own. The only difference, Max's design would not be available to the consumer for another couple of years. He did not feel at all guilty when he was able to disarm Nick's in less than a minute. The blue laser lights disappeared, and Max pushed through the double doors. He passed through an office with several computers. He'd definitely want to take a look at them, but he had other things on his mind, including finding Dave Anderson. Max walked into the next room, flipped on a light switch, and gave a low whistle when he found himself staring at an entire arsenal of weapons.
"Well, well," he said.
"What's going on, Max?" Muffin asked.
"I found Santoni's playroom." Max looked about the room. He spied a wooden box the size of a coffin. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to it and carefully lifted the lid.
Dave Anderson lay inside, wrists and ankles tied together. He opened his eyes.
"I'm dying, Max. They put me in here so I could bleed to death. I'm pretty sure the dog hit a major artery, because I can feel my life-blood draining from me."
"Where did the dog bite you?"
"Inside my right thigh. Nick's thug called him off because he obviously didn't want to kill me right away. He wanted me to die slowly. I'm surprised I'm still alive."
Max saw blood on Dave's pants. "Lay still, Dave." He pulled out a pocketknife and made a slit in Dave's slacks. He p
ulled back the material. "It's a nasty bite," he said. "You need medical attention, but you're not likely to die."
"You're just saying that."
"I'm telling you the truth."
Max punched a button on his cell phone. "Muffin, I found Dave. I need to get him to the hospital."
"I'm going to lose my leg, aren't I?" Dave said.
"You're not going to lose your leg, for Pete's sake," Max said. "Now be still so I can cut your bindings." He sawed through them with his knife and pulled Dave up so the man was sitting.
"I'm light-headed from losing half my blood," Dave said.
"Do you think you can walk?"
"Walk?" he repeated as if the thought were merely ludicrous. "Are you kidding?"
"I'll help you," Max said. "Muffin, can you get us out of here?"
"I can try," she said.
* * * * *
Jamie sat on the bed in Nick's guest room and pondered her next move. She'd been sent there to rest. And to make up her mind as to what she was going to do with regard to Nick's invitation to leave with him.
Invitation, her foot!
Fleas had his head propped on her knees. She could tell he was as anxious as she was. And she had thought him dumb. She leaned over and pressed her cheek against the top of his head.
"If only I could talk to Max," she whispered so softly that it was little more than a thought. She glanced around. It did not surprise her to find there was no telephone in the room. She desperately needed to talk to Max, warn him. Although Nick had promised no harm would come to Max, she knew Nick's men would shoot him if he came near the property.
Jamie realized she wasn't thinking straight. She had not slept in hours. She felt wired. Too much had happened in such a short period of time; her mind and body were still trying to adjust. "Lie down, boy," she told Fleas. He did as he was told, propping his head on his paws. He looked sad.
Jamie suddenly realized she was shivering. She hadn't quite grown accustomed to the cool mountain nights, and Nick obviously kept the air-conditioning low. She noted the quilt on a nearby chair and draped it across her shoulders. Her eyes burned. Finally, unable to fight the exhaustion, she curled up on the bed. Fleas scooted closer, as if he felt by doing so he could protect her. Jamie stroked his ear. If only she could close her eyes for five minutes. Just five minutes.