Читать книгу Covert Makeover - Mallory Kane - Страница 8

Sophie Brooks uncrossed her legs and tugged on her skirt hem as she watched her boss pace across the state-of-the-art kitchen of the lavish art deco home that housed Weddings Your Way. Rachel Brennan’s soft linen dress swirled around her legs each time she turned. As soon as she’d walked in the door this morning, Sophie had seen that the beautiful, black-haired head of Miami Confidential was agitated.

Rachel snapped her cell phone shut and held her iced latte against her temple. “Mornings like this, I really miss Colorado. How can it be one hundred percent humidity?” Her sharp gaze lit on Sophie’s black-stockinged knees. “I swear, Sophie, I would melt like the Wicked Witch of the West if I dressed like you.”

Sophie gave a taut little smile and recrossed her legs. “I guess you can take the girl out of New York—”

Rachel snorted and took a long swallow of her drink, then looked in turn at the other members of the team seated at the table. “That was the hospital. Sonya Botero’s limo driver has regained consciousness, but Sean Majors, Botero’s chief of security, has given the hospital staff instructions not to allow any visitors until he has a chance to question him.”

Rafe Montoya slapped the table with his palm. “Has he still got a twenty-four-hour guard on Johnson’s room? I don’t like it. Majors is holding too tight a rein over that guy. We know Craig Johnson is connected to Sonya’s kidnapping. What’s Majors trying to hide?”

Rachel pushed her hair back from her face. “I think he’s just smarting over the fact that it was his man who allowed Sonya to be kidnapped. And he has a right to protect his employee. Let’s wait. He’s been cooperative so far.”

“He hasn’t heard anything more from the kidnappers?” Julia Garcia asked.

“He didn’t say.”

“So we still don’t have a time or place for the ransom drop?”

Sophie heard the concern in Julia’s voice. She’d been friends with Sonya Botero for years. She was understandably shaken by her friend’s disappearance.

When Rachel didn’t answer immediately, Sophie spoke. “You think we may not hear anything else, don’t you?”

Everyone’s head turned toward her and she saw on their faces that she’d voiced their fears. “That maybe they don’t want anything except to torture her fiancé. If her kidnapping turns out to be part of the effort to stop Juan DeLeon from curbing the drug trade in Ladera, we’re going to have trouble doing anything from here. And their legislature goes into session within a few weeks.”

Samantha Peters sat forward. She adjusted her tortoise-shell glasses on her pert nose. “But there’s another consideration. What about Juan’s nutty ex-wife? Anyone of her family could be behind this. After all, they all have connections with the drug trade.”

Sophie shook her head. “Why would they act now? They’ve had years to take revenge on Juan.”

“But now he’s more powerful. The bills he’s sponsoring will affect their livelihood, too.”

Rachel tossed her empty cup into the trash, frowning. “I know it’s frustrating that we can’t seem to nail down enough specific information to go on. And Sophie’s right, we’re limited in what we can do from here. One thing’s for certain. We operate on the belief that Sonya is still alive. And everything we do must be aimed at bringing her back safely.” Her brows knit together in a frown.

“And we’ve heard nothing else from the police, although that’s probably a good thing,” Rafe commented.

“True. I’d rather keep Miami P.D. out of it as much as possible. In fact—” Rachel glanced at her watch “—I have a meeting with the commissioner this afternoon to address that very issue. So far we’ve been successful in keeping this out of the public eye, and of course the commissioner is being cooperative with the Confidential Agency, but the media is beginning to buzz about Juan DeLeon’s presence here and Sonya’s conspicuous absence from her usual social and charitable functions.”

Sophie checked her watch. She had an appointment with a new client. Weddings Your Way was a very successful wedding planning salon, which provided the perfect cover for Rachel Brennan’s Miami Confidential team. “I apologize, Rachel, but my client will be here in a few minutes.”

Rachel nodded. “Fine. Go ahead. We certainly don’t want to neglect any of our brides, or make them suspicious.”

Sophie heard the front door bell jingle downstairs. She stood and straightened her black silk gabardine skirt. “There’s my client. As soon as I can get her approval of my design for her wedding invitations and get her out of here, I’ll touch base with my CIA contacts, find out if there’s any chatter about Ladera, or activity off the coast.”

“Good. Thanks, everyone.”

Sophie descended the curved marble staircase, her sleek black pumps clicking. She put on a cool smile and greeted the young debutante whose biggest problem of the day was whether to use white, ivory, or pale lilac for her wedding invitations.

SEAN MAJORS ground one fist into the other palm as he watched his boss being wheeled into the large, darkly paneled study of his fortified estate. He didn’t look forward to the next few minutes. He had good news for Carlos, but he also had some very disturbing news as well.

Carlos Botero had been a big, handsome, vital man until a few weeks ago, when his only daughter Sonya had been kidnapped. Now he seemed shrunken, dried-up. A stroke suffered on the day a vague and threatening ransom note had been delivered had sucked all the vitality out of him. Carlos’s brain was still sharp, but physically, he was a mere shell of his former self and deteriorating daily.

Carlos waved a hand weakly, shooing the male nurse out of the room. The nurse sent Sean a look and Sean nodded slightly. Javier would be right outside if Sean needed him.

“Mr. Botero, I have some good news.”

Carlos turned pale. “Sonya?”

Sean winced. “No, sir, not Sonya. I’m sorry.” He should have played it differently, should have been more considerate. But two significant events had occurred within the past twenty minutes and Sean’s brain was racing with plans and concerns.

“Craig Johnson has regained consciousness.”

Carlos sank a bit deeper into his chair. “The only thing good about that news is that now he can be forced to tell the truth about his involvement with my daughter’s abduction.” Botero’s gray eyebrows lifted and his sharp eyes bored into Sean’s. “Find out what he did.”

Sean nodded and dropped his gaze. Carlos was no fool. If he knew what Sean was thinking, he’d be even more upset. Sean hadn’t yet revealed to Sonya’s father that Johnson had been overheard by a member of the Weddings Your Way staff making a telephone call, a call that was traced to a number in Ladera.

“I plan to, sir. I’ve left word with my guard not to allow any visitors until I have a chance to talk with him.” Sean took a deep breath as his gut clenched. “Mr. Botero—”

Carlos sat up. “What is it? You have something else to tell me?”

Sean pulled a plastic bag containing a plain block-printed sheet of paper from his coat pocket. He’d just picked it up from the guard station at the entrance to Carlos’s estate.

Sean had been on his way to the hospital to see Johnson when the guard called to say a taxi had delivered the envelope. Sean questioned the guard about the taxi, then called the dispatcher, but she had no record of a delivery to Botero’s estate. The guard had written down the cab number, though, so Sean had dispatched a member of his security team to track down the driver and question him.

Sean retrieved the note himself when he arrived and bagged it, even before he read it. He didn’t want even the tiniest bit of evidence contaminated.

“Is that a second note?” Carlos asked, his voice thready with excitement.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me see it.”

Sean held it out so Carlos’s unsteady fingers could grasp it.

WE HOPE YOU HAVE THE TWO MILLION. PLACE THE CASH IN A CLEAR PLASTIC BAG STACKED IN BUNDLES OF 10,000 AMERICAN DOLLARS. WAIT FOR INSTRUCTIONS. BUT BE WARNED. ONCE YOU HEAR FROM US, YOU WILL HAVE TWO HOURS TO COMPLY. NOTA MOMENT MORE.

“Mr. Botero, it may be time to call in the police or the government—”

“No!” Carlos’s hand jerked and the bagged note fluttered to the floor. “No police!” He groped ineffectually for Sean’s arm and only succeeded in plucking at the sleeve of his suit.

“The note. It does not mention my daughter.”

“No, sir.” That worried Sean. It sounded more like a payoff or extortion than a ransom for Sonya’s safe return. Sean was afraid the kidnapping and ransom was a ploy to keep Juan DeLeon out of Ladera and distracted about his missing fiancée until the crooked Laderan politicians could shoot down DeLeon’s legislative bills.

He was also afraid that Sonya might already be dead. But he would never tell Carlos that. It might kill the old man Sean had come to care about very much during the ten years he’d worked for him. His job was to carry out Carlos’s wishes and keep him safe.

Of course he’d been charged with keeping Sonya safe, too, and he’d failed.

“Sir, the country of Ladera is a time bomb. Sonya’s kidnapping is almost certainly related to the activities there. The appropriate authorities should be contacted.”

Carlos tugged at Sean’s sleeve. “No! I care nothing for corrupt politicians. I care only about getting my daughter back. I trust her safety only to you!” Carlos yelled. “Promise me—”

The nurse stuck his head in the door, but Sean waved him away.

“Mr. Botero, I can’t tell you how sorry I am—”

“Do not apologize. Just promise me you will leave the authorities out of this. I depend on you.”

“I’ll do whatever you want done, sir.”

Carlos’s black eyes burned into Sean’s. “I want my daughter back. Sonya is my heart, my only remaining child. I cannot bear to lose her.”

Sean patted the older man’s hand. “I give you my word as a father that I will do everything in my power to get your daughter back safe and sound.”

Carlos relaxed minutely. “Thank you. Thank you. If my old friend Esteban were still alive, he could help you. But now Javier has taken on the additional duties of bodyguard.” Carlos took a breath and got choked. He started coughing.

Sean quickly called for the nurse. It pained him to see his robust, vital boss so ill and weak.

After the nurse brought Carlos some water, then wheeled him out, saying it was time for his massage, Sean sat down behind Carlos’s massive carved desk and put his head in his hands, replaying for the tenth or the hundredth time what had happened on that day in June when Sonya Botero was abducted in front of Weddings Your Way.

As Botero’s chief of security, Sean felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He was the one who had recommended Sonya park her red Porsche and let Craig Johnson, a member of his security team, drive her in her father’s limousine.

He’d felt she needed a bodyguard, considering the growing unrest in Ladera and the increased threats against her fiancé, Juan DeLeon. He’d picked Johnson for the job because of his military background. He’d served in some political hotspots.

Now Johnson was still in the hospital from a failed attempt on his life, an innocent client of Weddings Your Way was severely injured, and until just a few minutes ago, no one had heard from the kidnappers since the first note a few days ago.

Sean pictured the original note, with the unidentifiable bloody thumbprint on it and the lock of Sonya’s hair in the envelope. The note had been frustratingly terse. Two million, will be in touch.

Shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck, Sean reread the new note. It was scarcely more informative than the first one had been.

You will have two hours to comply. Sean picked up the desk phone and called Carlos’s personal accountant, who had already begun putting together the two million dollars.

“Winstead, it’s Majors. We’ve received a second note. Is the money ready?”

“It’s available. Specifics?” The dour accountant wasted few words.

“No pickup time, yet. Once we hear, we have to be ready in two hours, so I need your assurance that the cash will be ready.”

“Denominations?”

“Ten-thousand dollar bills.”

“Right.”

“Thanks.” Sean hung up, feeling helpless. He was used to being in control of a situation. He’d always been aware of Sonya’s vulnerability, given her high-profile lifestyle and her well-known charity work. He’d always sent a bodyguard with her to large public functions, although the independent, spoiled heiress hadn’t known that.

But the events surrounding her kidnapping didn’t feel right to him. From the beginning, Rachel Brennan, the owner of Weddings Your Way, had somehow managed to keep police and FBI involvement to a minimum. Sean had butted heads with her security chief a couple of times already, as well. Rafe Montoya seemed determined to keep Sean out of the loop.

A wedding planning salon with a crack security force. A high-profile kidnapping that hadn’t been scooped by the media. And Weddings Your Way employees uncovering vital pieces of information, like the fact that Johnson had called a number in Ladera before someone had sneaked into his hospital room and nearly killed him. It was all too convenient, the way everything seemed connected to the wedding-planning salon.

It didn’t add up.

Well, today, all that was about to change. Sean was going to see Rachel Brennan and demand answers. It was time he took control of the situation.

Sean stood and tucked the bagged note into his jacket pocket. He had promised Carlos that he would bring back his daughter safely. As a father.

As he headed out into the July Miami sunshine, on his way to the hospital to see Johnson, he thought about Carlos’s words. She is my heart.

He knew exactly what his boss meant. His mouth relaxed into a smile as he thought about his three-year-old daughter, Michaela. What would he do if something happened to her? Despite the heat, he shivered and suppressed an anguished groan. He would die.

As he patted the note in his pocket, his brain fed him a vision of another note. The note his ex-wife Cindy had left him.

You and the baby are sucking the life out of me. I can’t take it anymore. Get a divorce. You can have Michaela. She thinks you’re her father anyway.

Those words had pierced his heart with the efficiency of a stiletto. More than two years later, the piercing pain had dulled to an ache, but it hadn’t lessened. He rubbed his chest as he climbed into his Mustang convertible and started it, gunning the engine loudly.

How could another man’s child wrap his heart around her tiny fingers? How could he feel so consumed with love for her if she wasn’t biologically his? He squeezed his eyes shut for an instant.

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Michaela had his eyes, his dogged determination.

His ex-wife’s note was just one final cruelty. She’d hurt him in every other way she could. From her point of view, destroying his relationship with his daughter would be the perfect final blow.

He pushed thoughts of his ex-wife and her many betrayals out of his mind as he pulled up to the gate and instructed the guard not to let anyone in unless they had prior clearance from him. Not the police. Not a delivery truck. Not anyone.

He drove the several miles to the hospital, and headed straight up to Johnson’s room. A quick discussion with the nurse in charge told him Johnson was doing fine now that he’d finally regained consciousness.

The guard he’d placed at Johnson’s door rose from his chair.

“Mr. Majors.”

Sean nodded. “Morning, Kenner. If you want to grab some coffee, go ahead. Be back in ten minutes.”

It was after eight, but the room was still dark. Some morning show was on TV, but Johnson’s eyes were closed and one hand worried the oxygen tube inserted in his nose.

Sean stared at the man he’d hired less than a year ago. How in the hell had he been so wrong about him? Fury at himself and at Johnson propelled him across to the windows where he yanked up the blinds.

“Hey!” Johnson shielded his eyes from the bright Miami sun. He coughed and groaned, then squinted. “Mr. Majors.” He sank back into the bedclothes, his face suddenly pale.

“Good to see you awake.”

Johnson’s eyes fluttered. “Somebody tried to kill me.”

“I know. What I want to know is why.”

A slight shrug told him his employee didn’t want to talk. He stepped over to the bed and grabbed Johnson’s wrist where the IV tube was inserted.

Johnson squirmed. “Ow. Mr. Majors, you gotta get me out of here.”

“I’ve put a twenty-four-hour guard on your room.”

“You don’t understand. They’ll get to me again. I know it.”

“Who got to you?” He squeezed.

Johnson was sweating, grimacing at the pain from the IV catheter pressing into his flesh. Sean didn’t care.

“I swear, I don’t know. He stabbed me in the chest with a needle while I was asleep. Whatever he shot me with nearly killed me.”

“So you didn’t see anything.”

Johnson quit straining against Sean’s grip on his wrist. “You don’t believe me. I swear,” he coughed again. “The first and last thing I felt was that needle going in.” He rubbed his chest with his free hand.

Johnson had been attacked. There was no doubt about that. With a dose of potassium. Whoever had done it knew that injecting potassium straight into the heart would kill a person immediately. But the attempt had failed.

“Why’d you do it, Johnson?”

The young man swallowed. His pale face and the tubes attached to him bore witness to his brush with death. But he was alive, and Sean needed answers.

He waited.

Johnson’s eyes fluttered closed and he took a long breath, coughing dryly. “After I started driving Sonya, I got a phone call. They gave me a number. All I was supposed to do was let them know where I drove her. I had no idea they were going to kidnap her—”

“Like hell!” Sean jerked his hand away, afraid his anger might cause him to injure the young man’s wrist.

“Look, man. I’m serious. I thought it was the media.”

“The media? That’s a lie. I’ve seen the phone records. You called a number in Ladera.”

Johnson licked dry lips as his eyes widened. “That was just the one time. Nothing was said.”

Sean leaned over the hospital bed. “Don’t lie to me again, Johnson. I’ll take the guard off, and leave you here on your own. Now what the hell made you do it?”

Johnson’s pale face drained completely of color. His eyes darted toward the door. “I got in deep on some gambling debts. When I told the collectors I was driving Sonya, suddenly I got these phone calls. I swear, Mr. Majors—”

A nurse knocked on the half-open door, then stepped into the room. “Mr. Johnson, the lab is here to take you down for your CT scan.”

Sean blew out a frustrated breath. Johnson was lying. But Sean didn’t have time to question him further. He needed to get over to Weddings Your Way and talk to Rachel Brennan about the second ransom note.

He stepped back from the bed as two hefty young men wheeled in a gurney. Behind them Sean saw his guard.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he tossed at Johnson as he rounded the gurney and headed out the door.

“Stick with him. Don’t let him out of your sight,” he muttered as he passed the guard.

The day was growing hot and bright as he headed toward Biscayne Bay, toward the sumptuous offices of Weddings Your Way.

A half hour later, Sean stepped up to the carved mahogany and beveled glass front entrance to Weddings Your Way. He glanced at the discreetly placed security camera, only one of several positioned strategically around Weddings Your Way. His brain flashed back to the scene that had greeted him the day Sonya was kidnapped. The parking area had been in chaos. There were police detectives, crime-scene personnel and paramedics crawling all over the place. All he’d been able to think about was his boss’s missing daughter and his injured security guard.

He had watched the tapes. Frustration swelled in his chest as he thought about how little evidence the police lab had been able to glean from the footage.

The tape showed Botero’s white limousine pulling up behind a late model sedan in front of Weddings Your Way. Johnson, dressed in chauffeur livery and obviously not happy about it, opened the rear door for Sonya, who, with her usual exuberant energy, bounced out smiling.

Then, a black limo had pulled up behind Botero’s and two men dressed in dark suits leaped out and grabbed Sonya. Johnson reacted immediately, but one of the men coldcocked him.

A well-built young man ran into the frame, straight toward the limo, but the black car had veered and jumped the curb, heading straight for Johnson.

Johnson rolled to one side, out of the frame of the camera as the limo barreled forward and hit a young woman. Sean now knew that the young woman was Caroline Graham and the man who’d rushed the limo was her brother, Alex.

At no time did either of the kidnappers show his face to the camera. It was as if they knew exactly where the blind spots were.

He eyed the state-of-the-art piece of equipment. It was the same brand he’d just purchased for Carlos’s estate. Cocking an eyebrow at the lens, he reached for the door handle. Weddings Your Way must be more successful than he realized.

He knew from his own wedding that they were expensive. But that kind of twenty-four-hour security cost more than his apartment rent for a year. Rachel Brennan had upgraded since the kidnapping. Too late for Sonya and Johnson, but smart.

Walking into the elegant reception area of Weddings Your Way was like walking onto the set of a famous Thirties-era movie. A young woman seated behind a delicately carved table greeted him.

“Good morning, sir. Welcome to Weddings Your Way. How may we assist you?”

“Rachel Brennan, please.”

The pretty young woman quickly surveyed him, taking in his custom-fitted summer suit and the state of his fingernails and hair.

“Sean Majors, Carlos Botero’s chief of security.” He handed her his card.

“Oh, of course Mr. Majors.” Her cheeks turned faintly pink. “Ms. Brennan is not available. Could I direct you to—” she glanced quickly at a desk calendar “—Ms. Brooks?”

Sean took in the large main salon of Weddings Your Way. Brooks. Which one was she?

To the right of the marble staircase, beyond the display of wedding gowns and veils, in a cozy alcove, a tall blonde dressed in black and white with black stockings encasing her long, shapely legs smiled at a petite redhead in bright pink sitting across from her.

As he watched, the two women stood.

Oh, yeah. The blonde with the legs was Sophie Brooks. How could he forget those legs? The sleek, sheer black stockings were an endangered species in Miami any time of year. They were extinct during the summer.

As the bride-to-be turned toward the door and the blonde sat and recrossed her legs, Sean admired the long expanse of thigh that was revealed below the short, tight skirt.

“Mr. Majors, I’ll let Ms. Brooks know—”

He waved his hand. “I see her.”

As he passed the redhead, she smiled pertly at him. He nodded without taking his eyes off Sophie Brooks.

Her straight blond hair hid her face as she wrote something in a leather notebook, then typed a few sentences into a small laptop that sat open on her desk.

Her phone buzzed as he approached. She answered it, listened for an instant, then slid her gaze up his body, giving her head a little toss as she met his eyes. “No, that’s fine. I’ll take him.”

Sean smiled.

She frowned, set the phone down and stood.

He heard the swish of ultrasheer nylon and to his surprise, his body reacted.

Damn. What the hell was wrong with him? He was working, and nothing interfered with his job. Certainly not a beautiful woman. Miami was filled with beautiful women. Besides, he had absolutely no interest in women right now, beautiful or otherwise. He had his job and his daughter. He didn’t need anything else.

But, oh, those silk-clad forever legs.

With a great deal of effort, he managed to keep his eyes on her face.

She smoothed her hands down her skirt and swallowed, her eyelids flickering. Did she sense the battle that was raging inside him?

Knock it off, Majors. His jaw tightened. He was here for one purpose. He had to let Rachel Brennan know about the second ransom note.

“Ms. Brooks?”

“I’m Sophie Brooks,” she said, holding out her hand.

He took it briefly. Her fingers were cool, which didn’t surprise him. He’d have been surprised if they’d been warm. She was the epitome of cool. Her demeanor was smooth, sophisticated, unflappable, except for that tiny movement of her throat when he’d met her gaze.

“Please sit,” she said.

He gestured. “After you.” Cursing at himself for his weakness, he stole one last glimpse of her crossing those legs.

She moved an album of wedding invitations from the small table in front of her.

“I need to speak to Rachel Brennan,” he said, eyeing the pink slipper chair, then sitting carefully on the edge of it and propping his elbows on his knees.

“Ms. Brennan isn’t here. Can I do something for you, Mr. Majors?”

“That depends. Are you familiar with the Botero kidnapping?”

Sophie Brooks’s gaze snapped to his, the clear blue of her eyes suddenly turning opaque. He could have sworn something inside her shut down.

She fiddled with the pen she held, then pulled a notepad toward her and began drawing swirling circles and loops on it.

“Yes, of course. An awful thing to have happen right outside our doors,” she commented, her eyes on the paper.

Doodling. Sean exhaled shortly. “Right. Not to mention how bad it must be for Sonya and her father and the people who were injured,” he said dryly.

For a second there, she’d reminded him of his ex-wife, self-absorbed and heartless. But he supposed he was giving the woman too much credit, expecting her to be concerned about someone she may have never even met. She was an employee of a fancy wedding planning salon. It was natural that her biggest concern would be for the reputation of the salon.

But she’d heard the censure in his voice, because her pen stilled and she compressed her lips. “Certainly. I heard your security guard regained consciousness. How is he?”

And he heard the faint hint of disapproval in hers, as if the kidnapping were Johnson’s fault and, by association, his. “They’re running tests. I’ll see him this afternoon.”

Her lashes lowered for an instant. “Yes, I understand you’ve gotten his physician to order no visitors until after you’ve talked with him.”

More disapproval.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Majors?”

Sean assessed her. She appeared to be in complete control—poised, her legs crossed, her back straight. Maybe too straight. She seemed ill at ease. “You design the invitations for Weddings Your Way, right?”

Her throat moved and she blinked.

She was thrown off by his sudden change of subject. Sean made it his business to assess the people he came in contact with. It came in handy. Those tiny reactions told him Sophie Brooks wasn’t a hundred percent unflappable.

“Yes,” she said evenly. “I help the bride choose the perfect invitation to introduce the most important event in a young woman’s life.” She paused. “Is that relevant?”

“We’ve actually met before. You designed the invitations for my wedding.”

Sophie did her best not to react. So that’s why he looked so familiar. She knew she’d seen him before. She’d caught a glimpse of him on the day of Sonya’s kidnapping, felt the sense of déjà vu, and thought perhaps his even, rugged features reminded her of a movie star. In the chaos of the tragedy, she’d forgotten about him.

But now she remembered vividly—his athletic, loose-limbed grace, his broad shoulders and lean hips subtly set off by his tailored suit, his nearly perfect features. His wedding to a blond debutante four years ago had been her first assignment for Weddings Your Way.

“Of course.” She held his gaze. No way was she going to admit she remembered him after that long. In truth, his odd teal-colored eyes had fascinated her, as had his harsh, handsome face and his confident sexuality. She also recalled how much in love he’d been. She smiled. “How is your wife?”

His eyes changed then, from soft teal blue to the dark shadows of a storm cloud. “I have no idea,” he said flatly.

Before she could stop herself, she glanced down at his left hand. No ring. Not even a tan line. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t because of the invitations.” His lips smiled wryly. His eyes didn’t.

Sophie sent him a small sad smile. “Nevertheless—”

“When will Ms. Brennan be back?”

Back to business. Sophie watched as he deliberately refocused on his reason for being here. He tensed and subtly arched his shoulders, then glanced at his watch, a shadow of worry flickering across his face.

Something had happened. Her intuition, honed by her years with the CIA, kicked in. She tensed.

“It could be quite a while. I assure you, I am authorized to act on her behalf in any matter.”

He nodded, and his hand moved toward his jacket pocket. In a calculatedly casual move, he checked it and rested it on his thigh, instead.

But Sophie noticed. She spotted the corner of a plastic bag skirting the top edge of the gray silk pocket. They’d received a note. She leaned forward. “Mr. Botero has heard from the kidnappers again, hasn’t he?”

Sean Majors glanced down at the unbuttoned top of her blouse. His gaze brushed the shadowed area between her breasts like a caress. They tightened in response, and awareness drifted across her skin like the faint touch of fingertips.

His gaze slid up to hers. After a couple of seconds, he looked beyond her. He could have been just looking out the window behind her at the luxurious pool area, but Sophie knew he wasn’t. He was making a decision—a decision whether to trust her.

He blinked and leveled his gaze on her again. “Yes.”

Sophie’s heart slammed against her chest.

A break at last. She smoothed her skirt and reminded herself that to him she was just a graphics designer at an upscale wedding-planning business. Still, she was in charge while Rachel was gone. She had an obligation to get all the information she could.

“And you’re here because Mr. Botero doesn’t want the police involved.”

“That’s right. Mr. Botero has cooperated up to a point. But he refuses to allow them inside his estate. He doesn’t want them to know he’s heard from the kidnappers. I don’t like operating without their knowledge.”

“We’re willing to cooperate in any way,” Sophie said quickly. She couldn’t tell him that Rachel, as head of the Confidential Agency, was already working closely with the police commissioner to keep law enforcement and media attention off the Botero kidnapping.

“As I’m sure you know, we’ve been waiting to hear about the date and time for the drop,” she said.

“And your security team is ready?”

“Of course.” He assessed her narrowly. She knew what he was thinking. He was Botero’s chief of security. He knew all about coordinating surveillance and protection. He also knew all about cooperation with authorities. Luckily so far, he’d barely dealt with the Confidential team directly, and then it had been mostly through Rachel. Sophie knew Rachel had revealed nothing about the true purpose of Weddings Your Way.

He dropped his gaze to her fingers. Aware that she was still doodling, as she did when she was nervous or concentrating, she smoothly covered the paper with her forearm without looking at it.

“So, Mr. Majors, what can Weddings Your Way do for you?”

“I need copies of all your surveillance tapes from the day of the kidnapping. I’d like to interview everyone Sonya spoke with that day. I want to review all the statements from all your employees.”

“The police have all that.”

He waited.

“All right. Ms. Brennan has copies of everything.” Sophie picked up the phone and dialed Samantha’s extension. “Samantha, have you got an extra set of copies of everything related to the Botero case—to Sonya’s kidnapping?”

“Everything?” Samantha’s amused voice said in her ear. “I caught a glimpse of Botero’s gorgeous security chief. Lucky you, in charge today. You surely don’t mean he’s sweet-talked you into giving him everything?”

Sophie gripped the phone more tightly and avoided the gorgeous security chief’s gaze as her face grew warm. “All the information we provided to the police,” she said evenly. She’d never quite picked up the knack the close-knit team had of kidding around, especially in the middle of a serious situation. Her background hadn’t been conducive to gentle teasing.

“Ah, okay. Give me twenty minutes. So the unflappable Sophie Brooks didn’t fall under the handsome prince’s spell.”

“No, of course not. Nothing like that.” She disconnected, feeling her cheeks turn warm. Silently and fluently, she cursed Samantha for teasing her.

She gave Sean a stiff smile. “We can have that information for you in about twenty minutes. In the meantime, if you’d like, you can talk to our receptionist about arranging to speak with the employees who were here that morning. Or would you prefer to see our chief of security, Rafe Montoya? He’s not here right now.” He’d gone with Rachel to see the commissioner. “He should be back this afternoon.”

Sean glanced at his watch again.

He didn’t have much time. Sophie couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to know about the note.

“The kidnappers gave you a deadline, didn’t they? When is the drop? What did the note say? How was it delivered?” Sophie stopped as Majors’s brows drew together in a frown and his gaze sharpened.

She backpedaled. “I mean, is Sonya safe? Did the note say anything about her?” She sat back and forced herself to calm down. Sean Majors had no idea she was a former CIA agent. Her job, and her biggest challenge, was to stay in character. As far as Sean Majors was concerned, she was an employee of Weddings Your Way. Nothing more.

Sean didn’t speak.

“Mr. Majors, I assure you that I am authorized to act in full capacity in Ms. Brennan’s absence. If you like, I could give her your cell phone number so you can verify it with her.”

His face smoothed out a bit as he shook his head. “There was no specific mention of Sonya. But they gave instructions about the money, and said they’d be in touch very soon.”

“May I see the note?” She looked at his pocket.

As he pulled out the plastic bag and laid it in front of her, she was momentarily distracted by his hands. They were large and tanned, with long, well-shaped fingers. Good hands. Competent hands.

She forced her attention on to the note, reading it quickly. “Two hours!”

“Right. Not much time. We’re going to have to be ready to move.”

She held the note up to the light, drawing a curious glance from him. “No watermark,” she commented, then gave a small false shrug. “I’m a graphic designer. Mr. Majors, may we keep this?”

“What reason could you possibly have to want the note?”

“Ms. Brennan will want to see it,” Sophie said quickly. “She feels responsible for Sonya Botero’s kidnapping. Maybe a copy?”

Majors sent her a suspicious glance. “How can I be assured it won’t end up in the hands of the police?”

“As I said, I can have Ms. Brennan speak to you personally.”

He shook his head. “One copy, without removing it from the plastic bag.”

“Of course. I’ll do it myself if you’d like to observe.”

He stood, adjusting his cuffs, and picked up the note. He was not going to let it out of his sight for an instant.

Sophie stood as well. “Follow me.” She walked quickly up the stairs, her high heels clicking on the marble. Majors walked slightly behind her and she imagined his gaze burning into her back, her behind, her legs. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Disturbing. And yet slightly arousing. Suppressing the urge to slow down and force him into step beside her, she sped up, reaching the second floor and heading straight for the copy machine.

As he watched her like a hawk, she made one photocopy. He reached around her and cleared the machine, then inspected the copy.

“Your confidence in us is underwhelming.”

He didn’t look up. “This is my boss’s only daughter. My loyalty is to him.”

“True. I apologize.”

He didn’t acknowledge her words, just handed her the photocopy and retrieved the original note, tucking it back in his inside jacket pocket. Then he stepped aside to let her precede him down the stairs.

Sophie faced him at the bottom. “Where do you think they’ll want to meet for the drop?”

“Who knows. They don’t seem to be concerned about being seen in daylight, but they’ll want an open space.”

“Do it here.”

Sean lifted his chin slightly, staring at her as if she’d just confessed.

She’d come on too strong. But she was getting the definite impression he wanted to handle this alone. And she couldn’t let that happen. Sonya Botero had been kidnapped right under the nose of Rachel Brennan’s Miami Confidential team. Rachel was absolutely determined to get Sonya back, and Sophie and the rest of the team felt the same way. It had happened on their watch. It was their responsibility.

“It’s the perfect place,” she said quickly. “Sonya was kidnapped here. That means the kidnappers know the area intimately. We can arrange the drop in the circular drive out front. Cancel all appointments for the time frame to ensure that no one is around. It’s relatively isolated, yet out in the open. It would make sense.”

Sean cocked one brow. “You seem to have all the bases covered. Have you been thinking about this a lot?”

His remark gave her pause. Actually, the thought of using Weddings Your Way for the ransom drop had just occurred to her. “I watch a lot of TV. But it does make sense, doesn’t it?”

“Assuming the kidnappers are generous enough to let us make that decision, which I doubt will happen. Isn’t this Montoya’s territory?”

“Yes, but he and Ms. Brennan are out all morning. That means it could be hours before you could talk with them about arrangements. That’s time wasted.”

“Who do you suggest to make the drop?”

Sophie took a deep breath. “Me. I work here. I’m sure the kidnappers know all the employees of Weddings Your Way. They would have cased us pretty thoroughly before they planned the kidnapping.”

“Cased you?”

“Sorry.” Sophie smoothed her skirt and looked down. “Like I said, I guess I watch too many cop shows.”

“You think?”

She frowned at his sarcastic remark and the storm clouds still darkening his eyes. She challenged him. “You think I can’t handle it.”

“I’m sure you can. All you’d have to do is walk a few steps and set down a suitcase. My question is why do you want to?”

His voice was harsh, suspicious. He obviously suspected that she had an ulterior motive. Surely he didn’t think she was in on the kidnapping?

She couldn’t tell him the truth. That as a Miami Confidential agent, she had an obligation to make sure no one else was hurt. If anything happened during the drop, her CIA training ensured that she’d be prepared. She knew how to take care of herself.

Sean crossed his arms, waiting for her answer.

Smiling slyly, she leaned forward again, making sure her shirt gaped artfully. She was rewarded when his gaze flickered downward.

“I love the danger. It’s a turn-on.”