Secure Desire Page 13

  Yates gave Eric and Jamie an assessing look. “Hmm, you boys aren’t typical nursing staff.” Both men smiled and introduced themselves.

  “My flight was delayed twice. I came straight from the airport. Steve Naughton has been keeping me up to date. How is my girl today?” Yates moved closer to the bed. “How the hell did this happen? I read the after-action report. It makes no sense.”

  After a brief update from Ian, Yates smiled. “Chase, I didn’t realize you moonlight as a security guard.” Eric coughed in a lousy attempt to disguise a laugh.

  “I never should have approved the temporary assignment. Wilds wanted someone to fade into the woodwork for Bynum. Cassie was perfect for the assignment. My only trepidation was Greg Wilds—that SOB. There are tons of rumors floating around him, all involving female agents. No one will come forward.”

  Ian frowned. He didn’t want to tell Yates about the evidence he was compiling on Wilds, but he did relay how she took down the man with the gun at the dinner. Yates’s face brightened as he pulled up a chair beside her.

  “That’s Cassie. Her work ethic is incredible—and she’s brilliant. She could work for you.” Yates intimated he knew about the Eagle’s Talon teams. “She’s a firecracker, better than most male agents. Sniper-caliber shot. Did you know she speaks six languages fluently? English, French, German, Spanish, Italian, and Russian. I call her my chameleon.

  “We were working a seedy adult nightclub. The owner had a penchant for stolen Mayan art and some interesting sexual predilections. Every attempt to get an undercover in fell through. No male agent made it farther than the front door. The females got in, but they got nowhere.

  "Cassie and Sophie Garland, our technical analyst, did some heavy research and formed a plan to exploit his weaknesses. They discovered the man also had a penchant for beautiful, dominant women. Cassie walked into the club wearing a skintight black leather mini dress and escorting Steve on a leash. She caught his immediate attention. He took her home two nights later, or should I say she made him take her home? Two hours later, she had him hogtied and had recovered five million dollars in stolen artifacts. Another case, she walks into the office with two pink ponytails, fresh-faced, looking twelve. They looked like big bunny ears.”

  Ian laughed. “Her brother Christian calls her ‘Bunny.’ I think the ponytail thing is from childhood.”

  An intense pang of guilt struck Ian. She was amazing; he saw it at the dinner. It was his fault she would probably never work again.

  “On the international stage, she works with Interpol. She owns every museum she enters. No fear in the heart of danger. If she has a fault, it’s that she’s a little impulsive. We had a long talk after one particular case where she followed a sixteenth-century gold sculpture to Mexico. It was stolen from Vienna and bounced around the world. The little forty-million-dollar figurine came into the possession of a Russian businessman. She was supposed to observe, confirm, and report.

  "As you know, we have no jurisdiction there. I’m at home when Steve calls in an urgent report. She climbed into the limo with the target. He lost her—scared us to death. She was out of communication for forty-eight hours.

  "Cassie charmed him like a little minx. Managed to tag the sculpture and get a message out. We couldn’t admit to the Mexican government she was there—much less ask for help finding her. We almost needed to call a certain independent contractor.”

  The corner of Ian’s mouth twisted up.

  “She didn’t break a sweat.” Yates closed his eyes and shook his head in distress. “Damn it. She almost loses her life on a run-of-the-mill protection gig. What did Ames want from her? It was supposed to be easy.”

  Ian shrugged. “I think they had a previous connection. Did she ever talk about her past or her personal life?”

  “Professionally, she talked about her white whale: The Adoration by Caravaggio. It disappeared in 1967 from Palermo, Sicily. It’s a big painting—six square meters—and worth about twenty million.”

  “Any idea why?” Ian asked.

  “She never said. Everyone in the unit has a crusade—one piece that means something to them.”

  “And personally?”

  “She always talks about our fantastic analyst, Sophie Garland. Poor girl is champing at the bit to get here. Her replacement landed in London this morning, and she should be here tomorrow. Her family. The Paulsens. Knight, their dog. No one else. I always got the feeling someone hurt her. Never has an issue working with men, but she never stops out for a drink after work. I’ve never seen her date, never mention a relationship. We’re a small group. We work in close quarters.

  "On the other end of the spectrum, she remembers everyone’s birthday and anniversary. She attends every family function. Loves children. She always plays an elf at the FBI children’s Christmas party. I found out a couple of years ago, she sends gifts to Children’s Hospital in her brother Thomas’s name. The way I found out was my granddaughter was a patient at the time.

  "The guys are very protective of her. They want to lynch Wilds.” Yates brushed Cassie’s cheek. “I was hoping she had a secret someone special. She deserves to be loved.”

  The rhythmic churn of the ventilator was the only sound in the room as Yates patted Ian’s shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Take care of her.”

  It was clear by his tone Yates meant as more than a security detail. The two men shook hands again.

  “I will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Sir, I am sorry for the delay. When I got there, her home was destroyed. I found this under the floor in the bedroom closet.” Monte placed a pale blue book in front of his boss.

  “Thank you, Monte.” A review of the contents produced chills. It held a lock of black hair, a photograph of a perfect infant wrapped in a blue receiving blanket, two tiny handprints and footprints, and a death certificate: William Thomas Ensworth. Buried Mount Hope Memorial Cemetery, San Diego, California.

  “Monte, this is a huge problem.”

  “Yes, sir. What do you need?”

  “I’ll be in touch.” When he was alone in his office, he picked up his phone.

  Adrienne Whitman picked at her nail polish. “Joe, she’s still alive. What are you doing to fix this?”

  Joe Maddox's voice trembled. “Ade, I can’t get near her. She has private duty staff; her family or Ian Chase is with her all the time. Even her supplies and meds are brought in. We need to hope she never wakes up.”

  “I can’t believe you couldn’t do such a simple job. I should have done it myself.”

  “I’m sorry, Ade. I did the best I could.”

  “Well, it isn’t good enough. We have to try a different tactic.”

  Twelve days after Cassie was admitted, Ian joined Luke Paulsen as he notified the hospital Cassie was being transferred to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.

  Barbara, the nurse administrator, pursed her lips. “She’s on life support. Every time they reposition her, her body undergoes distress. She needs dialysis, and she’s burning with fever. This move will threaten her life.”

  “My daughter has two awful bacteria running around her system she didn’t come in here with. And she has a third bug from her injuries. Explain to me how she received an overdose of potassium? Don’t tell me she’s safe here. I won’t even go into the sponge left in her wound. That’s three times she was hurt on your hospital’s watch. I assure you; she will be better off where she’s going,” Luke said.

  “Mr. Paulsen, you leave the hospital no choice but to seek a court order to prevent you from doing so.”

  Luke stood to his full intimidating height. “You do what you have to.”

  After a quick discussion with Ian, a decision was made to execute the move before the hospital could get their plan together.

  The mission was well rehearsed with days of preparation. Every man and woman on the team had a specific task to perform. On Ian’s mark, the plan went off with military precision.

  Ian joined the two F
BI agents assigned to Cassie’s protective detail. “Coffee?” he offered two cups of the gourmet drink. Both men accepted without any incentive after drinking the hospital swill.

  Outside the entrance, two SUVs, each carrying four men, bookended two ambulances. A third SUV driven by Jason and transporting Ian, Kieran, and Martin followed at a discreet distance.

  Ian observed as Cassie was unloaded from the ambulance and settled her into her temporary home. Once he was confident things were under control, he walked the slate path to the main house.

  Ellen, besides being a cook and house manager, acted as mother hen and left a plate of food for him to warm up. Not hungry, Ian walked into the den. The May day was damp and cold, but a warm fire burned in the fireplace, its orange glow reflecting off imposing mahogany bookcases. A set of cherry brown leather chairs sat parallel to a matching couch, and a small mahogany and brass bar occupied a corner. Ian poured two fingers of single malt scotch and tossed it back, feeling the burn all the way to his empty gut. He poured another and belted that one down as well.

  Pouring one more scotch for himself, Ian turned to his brother, who was sitting in a chair. “Want one?”

  Kieran shook his head. “A little early for a drink.” Ian dropped into a chair. “Or should I say three?”

  Since that fateful day at the beach, neither man ever had more than one drink in a day. Ian sipped the caustic fluid and did not respond.

  “Hunt says she did well during the move. What’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you act like this—not even after Olivia called it quits. You’re wound tighter than a guitar string.”

  Ian rested the glass on his knee and watched the dancing tangerine flames. “I’ve never experienced this. I care for her.”

  After Olivia, a woman he thought he loved and wanted to marry, left him, he made a hard division between his emotions and his physical needs. Cassie was different.

  “Kier, I know this sounds insane, but I’m falling in love with her. Hell, I am in love with her. I felt a connection the first moment I saw her.”

  Kieran sat across from him. “When was that?”

  “At the National Gallery, the Mellon 21 fundraiser six years ago. She was the woman who showed me the Titian.

  “She had me then. There was this…” Ian couldn’t find the words. “I didn’t do anything about it at the time. She wore a ring. Then at Luke’s, turning in the Breckenridge file, she was there. No ring.” He twisted the glass in his hand. “We grabbed a bite. We connected. Then, well, you saw the e-mail. She ran. I sent her flowers Wednesday morning and was going to call her Thursday to invite her to lunch.”

  He placed the drink on a coaster and started to pace. “I never expected to see her at the fundraiser. Kier, she took my breath away. She was exquisite. I knew she was working. I could see the strain she was under. Then she was with Whitman Sr. on the dance floor. I know I shouldn’t have, but I cut in. As we danced, everything faded away. I don’t know how to describe it better. I feel complete with her in my arms.

  “There was such vulnerability in those emerald eyes. At first, she agreed to talk about going to lunch. I couldn’t stop myself. Damn, I pushed her, and she ran again. Told me chances and wishes are fairytales.

  “In the bathroom, she was struggling so hard to breathe. Those tiny fingers, cut and bleeding, grabbed my hand, and she apologized. Told me she wanted her chance.” Ian stared at his feet. “Kieran, I screwed up. I ignored the danger signals.”

  Kieran thought a moment before he responded, “Break it down. If Cassie wasn’t stabbed, would you feel this way about her?”

  “I felt it when I saw her at Luke and Rachel’s and then a brief kiss in the car. I was gone. The answer is yes.”

  “At the dinner, were you armed?” the pragmatic Kieran asked.

  “No, but you know that doesn’t matter.”

  “Were you working?”

  “Damn it. You know I wasn’t.”

  “We’ve spent twelve days with her family. I think you can figure out where I’m going. You didn’t interfere with the gun call. Why would you interfere with Ames? You know what she would say. Ian, you are not responsible for her being stabbed.”

  “I couldn’t keep her safe in the hospital either.” He ran his hands through his hair.

  “I wish it wasn’t so hard for you. Everything I’ve heard about Cassie is terrific. You and I spent time with Sophie and Rachel. You can tell they’re in your corner. There’s a story, but neither one is ready to share.

  “My advice is to ditch the guilt and stay the course. None of us know what tomorrow will bring for Cassie. I think we have a lead on one of the cops from the 911 call. The Ames family is still in Kentucky for the burial. The hospital cameras showed nothing valuable at the time Cassie was poisoned, but seven other patients died in the same timeframe. We’re checking to see if any of them died from potassium overdoses. The blue newborn’s cap had no trace on it. I don’t even know where to start looking for a baby. We need her family’s cooperation. Give it time.”

  He’d heard enough. Kieran was right, but Ian’s anger was bubbling up inside him. He couldn’t control the situation, and it infuriated him. His brother’s efforts to relax him only revved him up further.

  He exploded, “Get out!”

  Kieran closed the door to the sound of Ian’s crystal glass shattering against the wall.

  “She’s what?” Greg Wilds yelled into the phone.

  The special agent guarding Cassie at the hospital sounded groggy. “Sir, she was taken out with a medical team at Luke Paulsen’s instructions. He told the head nurse they were taking her to Johns Hopkins. The hospital was working on getting a court order to stop them. The people taking care of her went with her in an ambulance. Her doctor saw her early this morning and took the rest of the day off.”

  “Son of a bitch. They took her out in front of a waiting room full of friends and family. I want you to get over to Hopkins and find her. How hard can it be? Get two men over to the Paulsen house—and don’t come back until you know something. I want full-time surveillance on the house and everyone in it. I’m going after Chase myself.”

  Robert Bynum Jr. viciously thrust his hips into the young blonde woman on her knees. She cried out in pain with each drive. “You can take it, baby. You know this is how you like it.”

  The pretty blonde girl’s eyes clouded, and her speech was slurred. “Robby…hurt….” The drugs made it impossible to resist him. He lifted her back against his chest, and his hand snaked around her long neck. He climaxed hard as he compressed her throat without mercy.

  A cell phone rang. Without missing a beat, he dropped her to the floor, ripped off the condom and answered.

  “We need to talk. She’s not in the hospital anymore. And, there’s a bigger problem. There’s proof. This is messed up.”

  Robby’s face hardened. “I’ll call you back.” He stepped over the socialite’s body. “Sorry, baby.” He pulled up his pants, stepped into his shoes, and threw her over his shoulder. When the freight elevator fell to the main floor, he popped open the trunk of his black BMW and dropped the body of Phyllis Wilson inside.

  Moments later, Robby drove out into the bustling afternoon traffic. With a press of a button, he made a call. “What’s the proof?”

  The caller’s voice was hoarse. “A death certificate for a newborn.”

  Robby turned pale. “Remember, I warned you. You should have let me have my fun and ship her out.”

  “Well, it’s too late for that now. Ames was an insecure child. Who knows what he told her? Maddox is an incompetent jerk. And you—did you need to trash her place? You and Ames couldn’t let her be.”

  “Don’t blame me. You started this mess years ago. I told Ames we’d take her and package her. I didn’t tell him to go after her there. Hell, if I knew about the baby, I would have taken her after her morning run.”

  “We need this mess cleaned up fast. She’s going to blow everything. Find her and that dead baby and ma
ke sure they both disappear forever.”

  The crescent moon was setting in the predawn sky when an operator opened the door to the pool house for Ian. Hunter Montgomery lay sleeping on the big white living room couch, his face illuminated by the television. Ian headed up to Cassie’s room. On a cooling blanket, her body shivered. Eric stood nearby wearing an intense gaze. “How’s she doing?” He lifted her bandaged palm against his lips.

  “Her fever is still high—102.8. On the positive, blood pressure is holding without help. We are lightening the sedation more, but she becomes combative; it’s slow-going.”

  “Thanks, Eric. Mind if I stay for a few minutes?” Jamie moved out of his way. “I’m here, sweetheart. You’re going to get better. I promise.” Jamie handed Ian a cool, damp washcloth, which he positioned against her heated brow. The blue newborn’s hat he kept in his pocket reminded him how little he knew Cassie.

  Later that morning, Ian pulled into the secure underground parking structure of the 460,000-square-foot, ten-story building that was the DC home to Chase Group. The first floor contained a full cafeteria, while the remaining levels comprised an employee health center and Chase Ventures, the venture capital company. Two more floors contained the beehive of personnel, accounting, finance, licensing, legal, and Internet technology for the group’s 37,000 employees worldwide. Chase Security occupied the eighth and ninth floors. The tenth floor held a reception area, office suites, and a conference room. Secured in the two subbasements was the covert workspace necessary to run the Eagle’s Talon Teams.

  Ian walked over to what appeared to be a basic standard card access device. The plastic slipped through the slot, which then opened a hidden box and prompted a thumbprint, numeric code, and a retinal scan. After the sequence, an unmarked elevator opened, providing another critical card slot, which granted him direct access to the secured portion of the tenth-floor penthouse.