Stolen (17 page)

Paxton’s hired thug. Russo and Sean had unwillingly worked together once and had an uneasy truce.

The truce was over.

Sean grabbed his bag and ran across the street. Russo saw him and almost bolted.

“Why are you following me?”

“Making sure you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Let me rephrase. Why is Paxton having you follow me?”

“I’m sure you know.”

Sean didn’t know.

Russo said in a low voice, “Paxton will make your life hell if you screw this up.”

“Don’t follow me.” Sean turned and left. Then he smiled. He’d done something to piss off Senator Paxton. Definitely the silver lining for the day.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sean walked into Noah’s apartment early Tuesday evening more contemplative than anything else.

“Where have you been all day?” Noah asked. His tone was accusatory.

“Researching and evading one of Paxton’s hired guns.”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you get my e-mail about Joyce Bonner and her husband?”

“Yes, but who was following you?”

“Sergio Russo. He works for Paxton. His daughter was raped and killed by a repeat offender. Russo attacked him and was tossed in prison. Ripe for the picking by the likes of Paxton. Someone who would have done well at RCK if he didn’t have major ethics issues.”

Noah didn’t say anything. Sean continued, “I must have done something, because when I confronted Russo he told me not to fuck up the assignment. I’ll keep my eyes open. I’m not worried about Russo.”

“Well, maybe you should be. We have word that Paxton landed in LaGuardia late last night. He’s at his apartment on the Upper West Side.”

“He’s nervous. Coming to town at the same time he has Colton breaking into PBM. Sending Russo to follow me.”

“Does he know where you’re living?”

“No. I lost Russo in Brooklyn, before I went to talk to Joyce Bonner’s maid of honor.”

Sean sat down at the table and slid over a file that he’d copied at the library that morning.

“Becca Shuman,” he said. “Joyce Bonner’s best friend from high school. In her wedding, hasn’t spoken to her much since. But she filled me in on the details.”

“I hope you have a point,” Noah said.

Sean frowned but decided to cut Noah a little slack. “I do. I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version. Jonathan Paxton and Randall Bonner grew up next-door neighbors in the same small upstate New York town. Paxton is Joyce Bonner’s godfather. Bonner funded Paxton’s early campaigns, before he died. They’re tight; at least they were.

“Joyce married Thomas Lynch. She was twenty; he was twenty-eight. He was controlling, judgmental, and Becca believed abusive. Their son was born eight weeks early after Joyce fell down the stairs. She told the doctors and police she tripped. They believed her. Becca didn’t, but by that point Joyce had stopped talking to her.

“Two months later, Lynch died in a boating accident, and the only witnesses were Paxton and Randall Bonner.”

“I see where you’re going with this, but you have no evidence that Paxton was involved with the death. What did the coroner say?”

“Body was never found intact. They found a partial skeleton three years later and confirmed it was Lynch through DNA. Paxton and Bonner said he’d complained of chest pains and stumbled overboard. They searched, but couldn’t find him.” Sean rolled his eyes. “He was thirty-eight.”

“And you think it was murder?”

“Heart attack could have been drug-induced, if there even was a heart attack. Randall Bonner founded a medical research company; if anyone could fake a heart attack, it’s him. Joyce and her kids got all the money. She put most of her share into the company.”

“Why would Paxton try to destroy the company?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet.”

Noah sighed. “We have nothing, and in forty-eight hours you’ll be committing a major felony.”

“We have something. We have a connection. And it’s not my first felony.” Sean wished he knew why Noah was being such a jerk.

“Geez,” Noah mumbled.

“I’m going to keep digging around, but I know the connection is here somewhere. What about you? You find anything?”

“More than you on your day out,” Noah snapped. “I know that there is no active investigation on you, but Deanna Brighton is looking at Colton Thayer for mortgage fraud.”

Sean almost laughed. “Mortgage fraud?
Colton?
Not in a million years.”

“But bank fraud’s okay?”

Sean bit back an irritated comment.

“That has to be a cover. She must be using a fake investigation to access information on Colton and me.”

“You’re accusing a federal agent of a serious crime.”

“She went to Quantico to question Lucy. She wanted to know where I’m living. She followed me from the pub. The woman is obsessed.”

“She’s doing her job.”

“She has a vendetta.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “You would certainly know a lot about vendettas, wouldn’t you?”

“She’s taking authority too far,” Sean said.

“There are safeguards to prevent that,” Noah replied.

“I don’t want to argue with you, Armstrong.”

Noah stared at him and Sean finally said, “What is it? You’re the one who wanted me to go undercover, yet ever since we’ve been in New York you’ve been an ass. I thought you’d agree with me about Deanna Brighton. Frankly, I thought you’d mellowed out this past year.”

“This isn’t about Agent Brighton. I’ll take care of it.”

“Then what
is
it about? Is it about this case? That you think I’m getting away with something?”

“You are.”

“Fuck this, Armstrong. It was nearly ten years ago. And
you
brought
me
into this mess.”

“You don’t regret it.”

“You mean with Martin Holdings? Hell no. That guy was a bastard. He deserved everything we did, and more—and don’t tell me I should have gone to the authorities. Because they would have done shit, and you know it. I told you and Rick everything.”

“And you’d do it again.”

“Yes, I would.”

They stared at each other. An impasse, maybe. But Sean was in too deep with Colton not to see this through. Sean had to give Noah something, an olive branch.

Sean’s phone rang and he sent the call straight to voice mail.

“I’m not anti-law enforcement,” Sean said. “I know too many good cops. You, even.” He gave Noah a half smile, but Noah wasn’t in the mood.

“And,” Sean continued, “I will never do anything to risk Lucy losing her faith or trust in me. I love her too much.”

Noah nodded slowly. “That I believe. It’s for Lucy I’m doing this.”

“What does that mean?” Sean said, a streak of jealousy running through his veins. He’d known for the past year that Noah had feelings for Lucy. It was something Sean, as a guy, just
knew.
And Noah knew Sean knew.

“Are you in love with her?” There, he’d said it. And it hurt. Not because he thought Lucy would return the feelings, but because some people thought a man like Noah—a cop, a military hero, a law-and-order stalwart—would be better for Lucy than a private investigator and semi-retired computer hacker.

Slowly, Noah shook his head. “I love Lucy, but not like you. You don’t need to be jealous.”

“Lucy respects you. She
trusts
you. If she even thinks—”

“I care for Lucy, but I’m not competing for her.” Noah ran his hand over his face. “I’m having a hard time with this case, okay? I’ve had issues with RCK in the past, when it was just your brothers and JT Caruso running things. You guys think you’re all above the law, and I’ll admit, after hearing about your shenanigans with Colton Thayer at MIT, I wanted to shut down the whole operation.”

Noah turned away and looked out the window. SoHo was bustling with the club scene, and the street below was a major thoroughfare to get to two of the most popular clubs in the area.

“I’ll deal with it,” Noah said.

“Look, Noah, I’m trying to understand you. I get that you don’t like me, that you don’t like what I’ve done, that you think I’m getting away with something. Just because I don’t regret what I did then doesn’t mean I’d do the same thing now. Maybe that doesn’t make any sense to you, but I don’t know how else to get you to trust me.”

“Ironically, I do trust you most of the time. The law means something to me, Sean. It means more to me than it does to you. Just—do what you need to do, but remember that this is my op, and I make the calls. If I shut it down, it’s shut down, got it?”

“Got it.” Sean knew this conversation wasn’t over, but it was for now. He glanced at his phone. Hunter had left him a message. “Back to work. Hunter called.”

Before Sean walked out, he turned to Noah. “What are we going to do about Paxton and Russo? Maybe I should check out Paxton’s apartment.”

“Stay away from him,” Noah said. “He could be here on legitimate government business. Congress is in recess.”

“Or he could be here because of PBM.”

“I’ll check on Paxton.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think he’d find it a bit suspicious if he saw you in New York?”

“I’ve done surveillance a few times,” Noah said.

“Really?” Sean said in mock surprise.

Noah shook his head and cracked a brief smile. “Watch your back, Rogan.”

“You, too, buddy.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sean listened to Hunter’s message as he walked up the stairs to his apartment.

“I found something really weird, and you’re the only one I trust. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m freaked.”

Hunter was paranoid by nature, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a reason to be paranoid now. Even Sean had been antsy ever since he cloned the badge, and now that Hunter was nervous—especially after they talked this morning—Sean was doubly concerned.

He hit Hunter’s number on his cell phone. No one answered. Hunter didn’t have voice mail set up. Sean disconnected. Hunter sounded scared, not paranoid.

Sean grabbed his go bag from his closet and slung it over his shoulder. It had everything he might need if he couldn’t return to the apartment.

He tried Hunter a second time; again, no answer. He went down the back stairs and called Noah. “I’m going to Hunter’s. He sounds spooked.”

“Do you need backup?”

“No—I’ll send a nine-one-one if I have a problem. Find out everything you can on Paxton, Bonner, and Lynch—and that boating accident.”

“I’m working on it.” Noah disconnected.

Though Noah was still Mr. Law and Order, Sean understood him better. It took guts for Noah to bring Sean into this investigation. And he was relieved that Noah wasn’t after Lucy. Sean had always worried that if something happened between him and Lucy, she’d turn to Noah because he was there.

Sean didn’t want to wait for the subway, so he grabbed a cab to Murray Hill, where Hunter had an apartment that had been in his family for half a century. Hunter said his grandparents had owned the four-story townhome and had sub-divided and sold off floors over the years to pay for their three kids to go to college. Hunter had been the only grandchild. The top floor was still in the family and worth many times more than the original building had been.

Sean had visited Hunter’s flat many times when they were in college, even lived in the basement for a few weeks one summer. A hidden staircase went from the top floor to the basement. In the twenties part of the building had been used as a speakeasy during prohibition. The basement had an old bar along one wall, a remnant of its past, along with a tunnel that led to the house three doors over.

Sean buzzed Hunter’s apartment. No answer.

Maybe Hunter hadn’t called Sean from his apartment. Except that earlier today, when they parted at the park, hadn’t Hunter said he was going home? A loner by nature, he wasn’t one for crowds and socializing. If he wasn’t here, he was at Colton’s.

“Come on, buddy, answer,” Sean muttered.

He glanced around. It wasn’t quite dark but late enough that there weren’t a lot of people on the street in this quiet midtown neighborhood. Park Avenue was a block west and bustling.

The door worked on an electronic release, easy for Sean to pop. He took out his phone, ran through a series of codes, and thirty seconds later the door clicked open. He slipped in and closed the door.

A central staircase on the south side of the building led to each flat with wall sconces faintly lighting each landing. He quietly went up to the fourth floor.

Hunter’s door was ajar.

Sean retrieved his gun from his bag and crept into the apartment.