Michaels, Skye - Mikaela's Debut [The Black Dahlia Hotel 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (9 page)

“And I have told you. Not an option. I called my father and told him we had some issues to work out and that I was taking another week or two off.”

“I bet he loved that. He didn’t even want you to come to Florida for Jack’s wedding.”

“He was not happy. I’m sure I’ll hear more about it from him before this is over.”

“Baby, please?”

“No. I know you have issues about my family. I understand how much losing yours affected you. But it is not the same thing, Mikki. If my dad and I have a knock-down-and-drag-out fight about this, he’ll be as pissed off as a wet hen for a few days, and then it will be as if nothing had happened. He loves Devin and me. He’s not about to throw away his sons over any disagreement, no matter how serious. Not to say he won’t do his damnedest to get his own way.” He laughed. “And besides, Mom will cut him off if he goes too far. No cigars, no desserts, no nookie. The man would be in hell. Once she threw a brand new box of Cuban cigars in the fireplace—and there was a real good fire in there at the time.”

The plane started to roll away from the gate and out to the runway lineup. It was too late to get Dillon off the plane at this point. She might as well relax and enjoy his company for as long as it took to get to Chicago. And then she could start her campaign to get him to return to Fort Lauderdale again. When she looked in his eyes, she saw nothing but plain old pain-in-the-ass Irish determination. He wasn’t going anywhere without her. Damn and double-damn. “You aren’t going to give in, are you?”

“No.”

“God, you’re a PIB, Dillon Cavanaugh.”

“Yes. Agreed. But I’m your PIB, and don’t forget it. Speaking of PIBs, you owe me a punishment, and it’s going to be a doozie.”

“Threatening me is no way to gain my cooperation, Master.”

“We’ll see about that, subbie. We’ll see about that. My heart was in my throat when I knew you’d taken off without a word to me. That will not be forgotten.”

“I’m sorry, Dilly. I didn’t want to upset you, but I knew you wouldn’t understand. Protecting your election chances and your relationship with your family was too important to me to not do everything I could to safeguard them.”

“I understand your feelings, but you had no right to make that decision by yourself. We are a team. We both have a say in what happens.”

She took his hand and kissed the back of it. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re my hero, Dillon Cavanaugh. Forgive me?”

“After I beat your butt, I probably will.”

Oh, no. It looked like she was not going to be able to talk him around on this. She was going to get a hot butt for sure.

* * * *

Fine. Let her worry about that for the rest of the trip to wherever they were going. Dillon wasn’t going to back down. He’d had time to stew on the wild helicopter ride to Orlando. It had been the fastest way to get there once Dane had determined that she was in the VIP lounge waiting for a flight to Chicago. He hadn’t wanted to play catch-up all the way to her destination, so he had grabbed his briefcase and a couple changes of clothes and run off after her.

Now, he took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers while the plane taxied into position and took off. He knew she hated takeoffs. He would always be there to hold her hand—and to paddle her butt—when she needed it.

Maggie Sexton’s apartment in Brooklyn, New York, Tuesday afternoon, December 29, 2015

Maggie picked up her handbag, dropped her regular cell into the inside pocket, and grabbed her coat. She had to hustle if she was going to get to Macy’s on Herald Square on time for her shift in the perfume department. When she’d gotten the job she had liked the idea, but now the sweet scents made her nauseous. All the stupid women were always spraying the bottles, and the scents didn’t mix well. She looked around the small apartment, most of which could be seen from the front door. Nothing was out of place. She closed her laptop and left it on the kitchen table. This was her past. She was eager to get to the future—and hopefully a good dose of Mikaela’s money would help her on her journey.

* * * *

Cassandra Wright enjoyed her position in the security division of Court Industries. She had been instrumental in uncovering the Brewster Pharmacy Corporation conspiracy to undermine the Maxprotem drug trials two years previously, and that had gotten her a promotion and the notice of both John McGregor, the head of Court Industries’ security division, and Morgan Court. Now she had another opportunity to do a favor for the reclusive multimillionaire head of the company. She sure wasn’t going to pass it up.

At thirty, having survived four years of military service, including one tour in Iraq, Cassandra was tougher than she looked. She had a lithe but powerful body, brown eyes, and dark-brown hair she usually scraped back into a ponytail. Today she was wearing a beat-up black leather jacket over nondescript jeans and a T-shirt with running shoes. She hoped she wouldn’t need the running shoes for this operation. Easy in and easy out. That was the plan.

Court and McGregor had called her into Court’s office and asked her for a favor. There was no way she would turn either of them down. She’d had her eye on John McGregor since she started at Court Industries, but she hadn’t been able to catch his interest romantically. Maybe he had a girlfriend. Who knew? They wanted her to break in to and search the apartment of a woman named Maggie Sexton. She was to look for the original of a sex tape that was being used to blackmail a friend, and to download the contents of any computers or other electronic devices. If she found the sex tape or tapes, she was to liberate them and load a virus into any computer devices. Liberate was a fancy word for steal. Simple. Easy. Scary.

Cassandra didn’t have any scruples about taking something from a blackmailer. She just didn’t want to get caught and have to explain what she was doing there. McGregor had provided the address and a surveillance photo of Maggie Sexton as well as some background information. Maggie was a good-looking woman, but she had a hard, dissatisfied look to her face. Cassandra did not get a pleasant vibe. She had been hanging around Sexton’s Brooklyn neighborhood, trying not to look suspicious. It would take a lot to look suspicious around here—but nonetheless.

Finally, in the late afternoon she saw Maggie leave the building with a handbag and a clear plastic tote. It looked like she might be going to her job at Macy’s. This should be a good opportunity to slip into the apartment. Cassandra waited another half hour just in case Maggie had forgotten something and decided to come back. When the coast was clear, she entered the building. No buzzer to gain admittance. Good.

Cassandra felt sorry for Mikaela Sexton. She had taken a few minutes to watch the YouTube video that had already been posted. John and Morgan Court told her that there might be another one showing the woman’s face. Not only was the woman at risk, but her boyfriend was running for Congress in a special election, and a sex scandal would likely sink his campaign.

Cassandra walked up the three flights of stairs to Maggie Sexton’s apartment. She carried a grocery bag which contained a set of lockpicks and some other equipment she might need. There was no one in the hallway. She walked casually to the door and made quick work of the locks. Geez, in this neighborhood she could see why there were three of them. Once she was inside, she took a quick look around to orient herself and also to be sure she was actually alone. Coast clear. She had donned silicone gloves when she was on the landing of the third floor and had also pushed her long hair up into a baseball cap. She didn’t want to leave any forensic evidence behind even in this apartment building.

Cassandra began a systematic and neat search of the apartment. She didn’t want it to be apparent that someone had been there. When she got to the small kitchen, she saw the laptop on the kitchen table. She opened it and booted up. She quickly found the directory with the video and some drafts of the blackmail texts. The browser history showed where the contents of the DVD had been uploaded to YouTube. Stupid, stupid girl. She downloaded the contents of the computer and forwarded it to the IT department at Court Industries. She uploaded the virus that would wipe the computer cleaner than a freshly diapered baby’s butt. Then she proceeded to search the rest of the apartment. In the small bedroom she found a box in the closet that contained an old-style video cassette and a shiny, new DVD—both marked simply “Mikaela New Year’s Eve 1999.” She slipped them into her bag. These were going out of here with her. She carefully searched the rest of the apartment in case there were duplicates hidden elsewhere. She didn’t think this Maggie person was sophisticated enough for such elaborate countermeasures, but you never knew. She was vicious enough to try to blackmail her cousin.

When Cassandra was sure she had found all there was to be found, she quietly exited the apartment and relocked the doors. Maggie would wonder what the hell had happened to her laptop. Hopefully she would think it was a power surge or something. If she wasn’t too technologically savvy, that might be the case. With any luck Maggie wouldn’t look for the video cassette and the DVD any time soon. It would be better if she didn’t find them missing until after the mysterious crash of her computer was not so fresh in her memory. Hopefully the two events would not be connected. In any case, she hoped she had put a serious stick in the spokes of Maggie’s wheels. She headed back to the Court Industries offices on Madison Avenue.

Cassandra knocked on the doorframe of John McGregor’s office, and when he looked up and nodded she went in. She put the video cassette and DVD down on John’s desk. He immediately picked up the DVD and put it into his laptop. There were two files. One was the video that had already been put up on YouTube. The other was indeed a video that showed Mikaela Sexton’s face. She looked younger and less mature than the recent pictures he had seen, but it was definitely the same woman. “Did you check the apartment carefully for any other copies?”

“Yes. I didn’t find any other copies or anything else interesting. Unless she is a lot more clever than she appears, there aren’t any. Of course there is no way to know if she has duplicates in a safe deposit box or some other hidey-hole. I crashed her computer after I sent the contents to our IT Department. I did my best.”

“Thanks, Cassandra. Morgan and I both appreciate your help. I’m going to call and let him know what you found.”

* * * *

Morgan Court was delighted with Cassandra’s results. He dialed Jamie Devereau at The Black Dahlia Hotel. When Jamie had been paged and picked up the phone, Morgan said, “This is your friend in New York. We managed to locate the items you are interested in. Ask our mutual friend what he wants done with them.”

“Really? Where did you find them?”

“Where we thought we might find them, along with drafts of the texts requesting monetary compensation.”

“So, it was the…”

Morgan cut him off. “Yes, it was the female relative of the subject. Let me know what you and your friends want to do now.”

“I’ll call you.”

* * * *

Jamie dialed Dillon’s cell phone but was unable to get through. He must not have landed yet. This was indeed good news, but it might not be the end of the situation. It was possible that Maggie Sexton had backups. It was possible she had a Plan B to cause more trouble if she didn’t get what she wanted, which was a heaping pile of her cousin’s money. Jamie loved money more than most, but he had never used underhanded or illegal means to get it. He was just preternaturally talented in that arena. Money was his thing. It just seemed to jump into his pockets with very little effort on his part. Jamie placed a call to Dane Dunross and filled him in. “That’s good news, boss. Let me know if I can do anything else to help. That was a good call. Morgan Court was apparently the right guy for the job—even if he’s not one of you Harvard guys.”

“I think we’re going to have to hear about the MIT techno edge from now on—dammit. I hope this is the end of it for Dillon’s and Mikaela’s sakes. We’ll have to see.”

Jamie tried Dillon again. This time he was able to leave a voice mail. “Call me, Cavanaugh. I think I have good news.”

A suite at the Chicago Hilton, Chicago, Illinois, Tuesday early evening, December 29, 2015

Dillon retrieved his voice mail messages after they had checked into the Hilton for the night and gotten settled in the room. He smiled when he listened to Devereau’s message. He wasn’t going to say anything to Mikaela until he heard what Jamie had to tell him.

“Devereau. It’s Cavanaugh. I caught up with Mikki in Orlando, and we both just landed in Chicago. I’m sticking to her like glue from now on.”

“Good luck with that. I think the lady has some serious skills.”

“I won’t argue with that. What’s the good news you mentioned?”

“One of Court’s people was able to retrieve the original video cassette and DVD of Mikaela’s film debut. There was a second video that shows her face. We can’t be sure if these are the only copies, but the location was searched and no others were found. Drafts of the texts and copies of the videos were also found on a computer at the location. The computer was wiped clean.”

“Let me be sure I understand. Morgan is in possession of the originals. We don’t know if there are other copies, and the person involved is the female relative.”