Lifestyles of the Witch & Famous (17 page)

Two small hands tugged on Molly’s shirt.

“We wanna go, too!” the twins demanded in unison.

They would.

Molly pried their fingers loose. “You can’t, munchkins. You have to stay and keep Admiral Byrd company. He’ll get lonely without you. Remember?”

The boys pouted but didn’t persist. They knew that look in her eye meant “the subject is closed.” No one could control the James boys the way Aunt Molly could. She felt a brief twinge of almost-pity for the kidnapper, wondering how he was making out with the one he had. Her guys were a handful, and she’d taught all three some of the tricks she knew – not the magic kind either (before she’d become a Wiccan and investigated the magical arts, she’d practiced the martial ones). The twins were just beginners, of course, but Stevie was pretty formidable for his age and size. Given the chance and enough provocation, he could inflict painful damage.

If their captor had done likewise, however, she’d give the creep a lot more than
pity
. They’d have to ship him home in separate sacks when she was through. She might be a tender-heart, but don’t mess with her kids.

Molly set her jaw, mentally preparing for the coming confrontation. She motioned for the others. “If we’re going to do this, we’d better get moving.”

She was as ready as she’d ever be. While waiting for Carlotta, she’d changed into a black sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes in preparation for the trip. She hadn’t known before what the dugout was, but common sense dictated it must be someplace on the Ranch, and probably in a rugged area. It always was in the mystery novels.

With a last sad glance at Tyler’s closed door, she grabbed Jeremy’s hand in her left and Josh’s in her right, and headed down the hall.

“We’ll need flashlights,” Carlotta said, falling into step beside her. André followed with Admiral Byrd, the first grumbling, the second mercifully silent because his cage was covered. “We can pick up a few on our way out. I know where they keep high-beam torches for outdoor use.”

Molly faltered in mid-step. “There’s something else we need, too.” The biggest something, and there was no easy way to say it. She girded her loins and just spit it out. “Do you know where Tyler keeps his diamonds? I need to…borrow them for a bit.”

“
Ai dios mio
,” Carlotta said.

Hopefully, that meant yes.

Chapter 11

“George Farrell? Our PI?” Barry blinked. “And
Molly
?” He collapsed into the chair Tyler had just vacated, looking a lot like he had that day way back in Marine Corps basic training when his rifle backfired on him. “And just how did you arrive at that brilliant conclusion?”

Tyler didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, and he didn’t have much time for an argument, but Barry would hound him till he got one. Given his tenacity, “Bulldog” might be a better nickname for him than Beanpole.

May as well get it over with.

It was 12:15. Tyler had already changed into black for a night attack. He could make it to the dugout in five or six minutes if he hauled ass and cut through the gully. That gave him nine minutes to hash it out with Barry, and he could still be there a half hour before the appointed time, for a little reconnaissance. If the jerkshit was there waiting, Tyler would take him by surprise. If not,
he’d
be the one waiting. And still take the son of a bitch.

Feeling grim, he perched on the edge of his desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and rattled off the reasons, trying not to notice how the knife in his gut cut deeper with each one.

“First, Farrell usually sends me his reports by fax, and he always hand prints them in black marker. The guy’s got a thing for Sharpies.”

“So do lots of people, I’m sure,” Barry countered. “Circumstantial evidence.”

“You know, it’s times like this I really hate your law degree.”

“Keep talking. The clock’s ticking down, Oh-Great-Jumper-to-Conclusions.”

Tyler resisted the urge to
jump
down his assistant’s throat. “Second, the note specifies that Molly deliver the ransom. Of all the people here, why her?” His voice went cold and so did the pain inside him. “So the two of them can run off with the ransom and the kids?”

If that was jumping to conclusions, it wasn’t a very far leap, not when you added it to the other clues, like that crack about giving him one hour to decide – an awful mimic of what he’d told her – and the way her attitude toward him had shifted so abruptly.
Why?
To keep him distracted tonight while the kidnapping occurred? That thought gave the knife an extra twist. He’d suspected something was up the minute she entered his office, all sultry looks, all tease…and that damn T-shirt. She’d distracted him all right.

Capping it off was her evident fear when the twins had shown up. Real fear, he’d been sure, but fear of what? That one of the boys had been taken? Or fear that something had gone wrong because two of them had been left behind?

Call it jumping to conclusions, call it intuition, call it whatever the hell you wanted. The clues still added up. Once the fax came through, he’d guessed the set-up instantly, but he couldn’t explain all of it to Barry. There was no time for an in-depth postmortem of his most recent romantic mistake, and Tyler didn’t have the stomach for it even if there were. He should have guessed even sooner. You’d think his mother would have taught him this lesson years ago. Never trust a woman. The ones you cared about the most always hurt you the worst.

No, he wasn’t going to get into that. Not now. Probably not ever. Just stick to the straight facts in this case. They were damning enough on their own.

“We can be sure Farrell knows Molly,” he said, “since he was busy investigating her this past week.”

“True. But she shouldn’t have realized that if he did his investigating as carefully as he usually does,” Barry pointed out. “There’s no reason to suspect
she
knows him.”

“There’s no reason to think she doesn’t, either. Farrell could have contacted her at anytime to arrange this with her. He knew she wanted the kids. He knew I was looking for reasons to keep her away from them. And
I
know the guy is a money-hungry—”

“Ty, coming from a billionaire, that sounds a little hypocritical. What? Other people aren’t allowed to want wealth?”

“If you want me to talk, quit interrupting.”

Tyler blew out his breath in exasperation. Yes, he had billions, but he’d earned them honestly, worked damn hard for his current fortune, and he supported a hell of a lot of people on his payroll. He supported plenty of charities, too. They might be good tax write-offs, but they did good work as well. He wasn’t in it just for himself. He wasn’t George Farrell’s ilk.

“You know what I mean. I use Farrell because he’s good at his job, but let’s face it, he’s no paragon of integrity. When he’s not playing PI, he’s always got some get-rich-quick scheme.”

“So? What do you care what he does with his spare time?”

“I don’t, normally. But I doubt my refusals to invest in his schemes have endeared me to his heart. Revenge and greed are both powerful motivators. He could have seen this as his one clear shot at hitting it big, with a little payback thrown in for fun. He’s always said that one day he’d
make
me invest in him.”

“Yeah, he has, but I always figured he meant it jokingly.” Closing his eyes, Barry leaned back in the chair, laced his fingers together over his middle, and steepled his thumbs. His thinking pose.

Tyler’s jaw clenched at the sight of it. He could almost hear the grinding of the wheels in that tricky, tawny-haired head. He started counting, silently, giving him till ten to speak.

The hazel eyes opened on six. At least Beanpole thought fast. “Okay, it’s a little flimsy, but you’ve made a
possible
case for Georgie-boy being the culprit – though I honestly don’t think kidnapping is his style. Conning Las Vegas showgirls who’ve made a killing at the craps table would be more to his taste. However, just for the sake of argument, let’s say it’s him. That doesn’t prove Molly is involved. Why would she do something to jeopardize a child she obviously loves? For that matter, if Farrell wanted to play kidnapper, why didn’t he grab one of the boys before they were here? Wouldn’t that have been simpler?”

“No, because that would have made it a real kidnapping. This is a
con
. That’s why it’s set up to move fast. That’s why he demanded diamonds instead of cash. He knows I always have some on hand for emergency funds, and that saves him having to wait for the banks to open. He’s hoping I won’t have time to think or react. And Molly is involved because he convinced her it was the best chance she had of keeping the kids.”

Scowling, Tyler glanced at the clock. 12:21. In three minutes this discussion was over, one way or another. He had an ass to kick, and the recent reference to Farrell’s eye for the ladies only added more lead to his boot. He could just imagine how the bastard had coerced Molly into this deal, preying on her feelings for the boys.

And using that slick charm of his as well?

What did they think they were going to do after they had the ransom? He knew what Farrell was thinking. Hell, in his shoes he’d be thinking the same thing: Take the loot
and
the lady.

The only question remaining was what Molly thought. Did she want to go with Georgie-boy? Money and the kids might have sounded good to her before, but if money and the kids were all she wanted, she didn’t need Farrell for that now. She could have more by marrying the kids’ uncle.

Except, she’d refused that option.

She’d made him sign that blasted contract instead.

Why? To buy time till the “kidnapping”?

She could have accomplished the same thing, and more easily, by agreeing to the marriage. It’s not like the wedding could have happened instantly, and she only had to hold off several hours.

For the first time since the fax, a flicker of doubt lit the dark thoughts.

Barry saw it in his eyes and fanned the flame. “Now that we’ve discussed your theory, you wanna hear mine?”

“Do I have a choice?” Tyler sighed.

“No. And, though I understand your reasoning, I don’t think the kidnapper is Farrell. Not because I think he’s above this sort of thing, but because I’m damn sure Molly
is
. And he couldn’t pull off the deal without her help. I also think this was a
spur-of-the-moment
scheme, not planned. Someone saw an opportunity and grabbed it. But I agree that it’s someone who knows about your diamonds – which narrows the field of suspects – and also that he has an accomplice. And I think you’re dead right on the motives. Greed and revenge. If you want to make certain about Farrell though, just compare this fax with one of his reports and see if the handwriting matches.”

Tyler sighed again. He’d already thought of that. He wasn’t a complete idiot, for godssake. “I can’t. I always shred his reports after I read them. You know that.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. Sorry.” Barry squinted at the fax. “Well, then—”

“Yes, I tried calling him. His cell, his home phone, and his office. Three strikes. He’s out. Which he would be, of course, if he’s here. And his cell might not work if he’s at the dugout – not that he’d answer even if it did. I left him an obscene message on his voicemail.”

“He’ll appreciate that, I’m sure,” Barry said. “But that wasn’t what I was going to suggest. Did you try the number the fax came from?” He waggled his brows.

Tyler felt proud of himself for not smacking him. “I really hate it when you do that. And, no, I didn’t try the fax number. What was I supposed to do, fax him back a confirmation?”

He shot another glance at the clock. Beanpole had thirty seconds to make his point. “I did look at the number,” he added quickly. “It’s nowhere I recognized.”

“You would if you spent more than a few weeks a year here. It’s the in-house line, the one you never use because you prefer shouting for people. This fax was sent from the Green Room. Which is now red and gold, by the way, since Bambi redecorated. It looks like an eighteenth-century cathouse on acid. Have you seen it recently? The waterbed is the best part.”

Tyler knew that. His feet stuttered to a stop midway between the desk and the door. The nine minutes were up and he’d been striding out, full steam ahead, with nary a word or a backward glance, when Barry’s info threw a monkey wrench into his works. He should have realized the fax came from
inside
. They already knew the kidnapper had been in the house. How else did he get Stevie?

The kicker was the
room
it came from. One more clue for his con theory. If Farrell had been skulking about the property today, waiting to pounce, he could have stumbled onto the dugout easily enough, but he wasn’t familiar with this mansion. Neither was Molly, but if she’d wanted to give him directions anywhere inside, that was one room she knew.

Tyler’s chest constricted at the memory of what they’d done there. The doubt flickered again. Even to him, the clues were starting to sound flimsy. Hell, maybe he
was
jumping to conclusions. Maybe he was looking for reasons to blame her.