Hero Book 3 - The Battle: Military Romance (2 page)

I'd spent the night with her, and had gotten her grandfather's blessing to pursue a relationship with her. For one moment, it seemed like everything would work out. I renewed my focus on keeping Leighton safe, not only for her sake but for mine. I needed her, I wanted her, and if we were going to be together, I knew I needed to find the source of the threats and neutralize them. The first thing I'd wanted to do was tell her about the threats. Devlin refused.

I hadn't gotten a chance to disobey his order. Leighton had been wasted and that hadn't been the time to tell her. Besides, her behaving like a petulant child didn't make me want to be anywhere near her. If I hadn't been so worried for Gwen and the baby, I would've been relieved to have a reason to leave for a bit.

The private jet touched down on the tarmac, and as soon as the cabin was stable, I unbuckled my seat belt and stood up. The flight crew stared at me as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

“Mr. Welch, we'll let you know when we reach the hangar. It won't take long.” The same attendant tried giving me a tight smile.

“I'll wait,” I said.

I clenched my fist again. I was furious, but there was nothing to fight against. It was the worst sort of helplessness, especially for a soldier.

Finally, the attendant unlocked the door and pushed it open. I brushed past her, and started down the steps before anyone could go first. I'd hoped the tight bands around my heart would loosen when I touched the tarmac in California, but I didn't think that would actually happen until I had her in my arms again.

Devlin Pope jumped out of his limousine and strode across the tarmac to meet me as I stepped off the final step. He was a billionaire, a businessman who commanded the respect and attention of some of the most powerful people in Hollywood.

But right now, he simply looked like a man who was missing the most important thing in his world.

I wondered if I looked the same.

“Tell me everything again,” I said.

Leighton's grandfather had already related everything he could over the phone, and I already had a good idea what direction to go in, but I needed to hear it all again. The smallest detail could mean everything.

Devlin led me away from the private jet and toward the limo. “Leighton was last seen at Diabolique with Paris. They entered the VIP Lounge just before midnight and ordered bottle service. They stayed past closing. The private party was photographed by paparazzi and is all over social media.”

“Can we identify everyone seen in those photographs? You have the photographer's name?” I asked.

“Yes, and we're working on it. My network is sending me the names as we speak.”

The driver opened the back door of the car and Devlin climbed inside. I followed. My car was back at the house.

“The temporary bodyguard we sent with Leighton was photographed sitting at the table with Paris. You're sure he had nothing to do with this?” Devlin asked.

“I vetted him myself,” I said wearily. I'd personally picked him to be my back-up. I wouldn't have left Leighton in the hands of anyone I didn't trust.

“He can't account for the time when Leighton went missing,” Devlin said as the car started to move.

“He wasn't bribed, and if Paris seduced him in the back hallway, that should be easy to corroborate. You said there was paparazzi at the private party?” I asked. “I'm sure the photographer has picture proof, but has yet to find the right outlet or the right price.”

“I have no idea why Leighton was out with that revolting woman again.” Devlin made a disgusted sound. “You have no idea what set her off?”

I ran both hands through my hair. “I've been over that day a thousand times, and relived the timeline over and over. I only have one theory that works: Leighton heard us talking in your office.”

He sighed and nodded in agreement. “She heard us discussing the threats.”

“And we both know your granddaughter doesn't like people keeping things from her, especially something this big.”

“So, true to her reckless nature, Leighton decided to go on a bender to get back at us.” He picked up the story where I'd left off. “Why does she always insist on throwing her life away?”

I shook my head. He still didn't see it. “No, I don't think that's it. I think she's looking for higher expectations, for us to treat her like she matters. She was upset, and decided the only thing she could do was exactly what we expected of her.”

Devlin’s eyebrows narrowed. “You're sure this isn't just her disappearing to get back at us?”

“I'm certain. The details coincide too closely with the last threatening letter. 'The Devil may take her if she stays out too late.' The club was called Diabolique. I didn't think to cross reference the names of LA hotspots and make that connection before you told me what happened.”

The car suddenly stopped as the driver slammed on his brakes. Before either of us could say anything, we heard a voice shouting from outside.

“Where is she? Where's Leighton?”

Ricky Gardener, asshole of a boyfriend slash ex-boyfriend, was standing in front of the limo. “Everyone's saying she's been kidnapped! What happened?”

I got out of the limo, ready to vent some of my frustration. He ran up to me, and I grabbed his wrist. My other hand clamped around his throat and I slammed him against the expensive car.

“Maybe her useless boyfriend realized he was about to be dumped and decided to get a little revenge. You better have a good alibi because this entire town knows what a sleaze you are.”

“Mr. Pope, help,” Ricky cried out. His light blue eyes were wide, the expression frantic. “I'm here to help. Honest.”

“Give him your alibi, Ricky.” Devlin's voice was flat, even. “And pray it holds up.”

Ricky flailed in his expensive sport coat, but couldn't dislodge my hand. He had one of those athletic builds that came naturally rather than at a cost. He'd never actually had to use those muscles and he'd find out in a few years that they wouldn't be there for him anymore.

“I was at a charity ball. There have to be photos. My parents chair the foundation. Safe drinking water or feeding orphans or some shit like that. You know, Mr. Pope, you donated, right?”

Without a word, Devlin pulled out his phone. A few minutes later, he spoke, “He's right, Haze. There was an after-party and concert that went until three in the morning.”

I leaned closed and squeezed Ricky's throat, turning his face from pale to red. “Some people might find that a little too convenient.”

“I already went to the police,” Ricky stammered. “I wanted them to do something, to find her. They told me Leighton hasn't been gone long enough for it to be a missing persons case. Why would I do that if I had something to do with it?”

I let go. He had a point. He could still be lying, but it looked a lot less likely now. “I don't need their help or yours.”

“You have a plan?” Ricky asked, his voice frantic.

Either he really cared about Leighton or he was one hell of an actor.

“Do you know anything about the person or people who took Leighton?” He looked from me to Devlin and back again.

“We have a pretty good profile of the person sending the threats, thanks to Haze,” Devlin said.

Ricky glared at me, and it took a lot of self-control not to lunge at him just to see if I could get him to squeal like a small child.

“No offense, Mr. Pope, but wasn't he the one who let Leighton slip away the last time?”

I worked on ignoring him. I had too much to do. I couldn't let Ricky distract me. He was right about one thing. The police wouldn't consider Leighton a missing person for at least another twenty-four hours, maybe a little longer thanks to her history and her resources. But I wasn't going to look at it as a bad thing. It meant I had a small window before other people trampled all over the trail and destroyed anything that might lead me to her.

“And he was the only one to find her,” Devlin countered Ricky's comment. His voice hardened. “I suggest you get out of our way, Ricky. If I understand correctly, Leighton already kicked you to the curb, and I agree that's where you belong.”

There were several long beats of silence.

“Well, I have one thing to say. If Haze screws up, I'll make sure he gets a one-way ticket back to the cornfield he came from.” Ricky stalked away, making sure to give me a wide berth as he went back to his flashy sports car.

I ignored him and turned to Devlin. “Did you get the things I asked for?”

He gestured toward the floor of the limo as I climbed back in. There was a case I hadn't seen before. I leaned down and opened it. Inside was a gun and clip. He watched as I loaded the gun and slung the holster over my shoulders. The duffel bag also contained a taser, a hard leather sap, and heavy duty binoculars with night vision capability.

“Where's the sniper rifle?” I asked.

“It'll be on my desk by the time we get back to the house.”

I leaned back in the seat as the limo started forward again. “Don't mistake me, Devlin. I'll use the weapons only if absolutely necessary, but I won't let anything get in the way of bringing Leighton home safe.”

Devlin was quiet for a moment, his blue eyes hard as he regarded me closely. They looked so much like Leighton's that it was almost painful. “That's what I'm counting on.”

We rode for several minutes in silence before I spoke again.

“There's only one plan that will work,” I said. “If there was paparazzi at the private party in Diabolique's VIP Lounge, it means a bouncer accepted a bribe. Once we get back to the house, I'll interview the bouncers on duty that night. That, plus the photographer, are the best bets to find out who didn't belong.”

“And what if there's no proof that your substitute was seduced by Paris?” Devlin asked.

“Then they both move to the top of my list of suspects, and I'll bring them back to your place.”

“Alright,” he said. “I'm coming with you.”

I shook my head. “I work better alone. You're not going to want to be party to my, ah, style of questioning.”

He frowned and scrubbed his stubbled chin. I hadn't even realized he wasn't sporting his usual smooth-shaven skin.

“Give me something to do, Haze. I can't stand twiddling my thumbs. Leighton is out there somewhere and I need to help.”

I thought for a moment and then thought of something he could do. “Get the rest of the people in those photographs identified and send me a list of names. If anyone stands out for any reason, I'll go see them.”

Even as we finished our discussion, we pulled up in front of the mansion that the Machus family called home. I followed Devlin into his office, inspected the contents of the long, flat box, and then took it with me as I went back out to my car.

Devlin's final words echoed after me. “Go find our girl and bring her home.”

I would. I would find Leighton and bring her home, even if I had to tear apart LA to do it.

Chapter 3

Leighton

When
the door opened, the dim light was enough to blind me. I blinked hard and squinted up at the looming person in the doorway. He was beefy, not chiseled like Haze, but heavy and terrifyingly strong. His face was hidden under a black ski mask, and the room was too dark for me to make out any details other than sheer size.

“Heard you shrieking away in here.”

His voice was oddly high-pitched for a man of his size, and if I hadn't been piss-my-pants terrified, I would've laughed.

“You could do it until your throat cracks, and no one will hear you. Still, it's getting on my nerves.” He slapped duct tape across my mouth.

I tried to struggle away, but one meat hook of a hand was enough to keep me from going anywhere. He untied my ankles, and dragged me to my feet. Any idea I had about kicking him in the balls and running disappeared as I involuntarily sagged against him. Being tied up had numbed my legs, and I could barely stand, much less run for my life. I didn't even know where I was anyway.

Sub-basement, I thought, as he took me up a short flight of stairs. The next room had hundreds of pipes and vents running along the ceiling. There were gauges and control boxes I didn't understand, and the farther we walked, the more I realized we must be in a large manufacturing warehouse or other industrial area. He was right. No one would ever hear me scream.

I swallowed my panic and tried to focus on what Haze would do. When the paparazzi chased us, we'd ended up in a similar basement, but Haze had never hesitated once. He'd followed the pipes and found the exit without a second thought.

The beefy man shoved me along the damp walkway, and I shuffled along slowly, trying to differentiate between the pipes and cables on the ceiling. At some point during our fiasco, Haze had told me water pipes almost always coincided with exits because water shut-off valves needed to be within easy access. Now, I traced the ceiling until I saw a black stamp with faded letters marking the water main.

“In here,” the man said and shoved me into a side room.

The concrete room was empty except for a metal folding chair and a narrow basement window. Weak sunlight filtered through the dirty glass, but it was still bright enough to hurt my eyes. He dumped me into the chair and tied my ankles to the chair legs.