Off the Grid (22 page)

“If it’s a little of both?”

“I’m not a spin doctor. I don’t cure deceit or stitch reputations back together.”

“You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

“And I can’t help but think the less you know the better. The duped wife. Sympathy would be yours for the taking.”

“A single incident of infidelity can be forgiven. Her age and the fact there’s a child makes this situation infinitely more complicated.” She placed a hand on her stomach. “But no matter what I do, this child will be a Drummond. Jason will always be his father. There’s no escaping it. Or him. From now on what I do? I do in the interest of protecting my child. So, I’m going to ask you again. How much more is there to it?”

There was no time to explain. The door opened and the man who’d been with Jason in her apartment stepped inside. He closed the door and stood with his hands crossed in front of him. “Jason wants to see you.”

Kristine straightened. Sophie had to admire her ability to call up haughty on command. Like all she had to do was raise the eyebrow of death and the peasants cowered before her. “You can tell my husband I’m unavailable for the foreseeable future.”

Except this guy hadn’t gotten the royal memo. His expression remained neutral, his stance wide. He pulled out his phone, made a call, and stuffed it back in his pocket. Oh yeah, and he made sure to shift his coat to the side and hook his suit jacket back behind his gun holster. “He’d prefer it if you came now.”

Kristine froze.

Sophie put a hand on her arm, more to gauge a possible collapse than in warning. Because hell no was she going anywhere with this guy. She had vocal cords and she wasn’t afraid to use them. “I’m not going anywhere. You can tell your boss if he wants to see me he’ll have to come to me.”

He reached back and Sophie flinched, but all he did was turn the doorknob and push it open. For a moment she thought he was actually going to go get Drummond. Instead, another man stepped into the room, his companion from the Empress. The one who’d walked out of the Balmoral. The one who’d killed her sister.

Her heart hammered out a warning. She knew they were in trouble. Big trouble. The other man’s eyes remained neutral along with his expression. He was here to do a job with no vested interest in doing more than he was bid. The skinhead’s tattoos marked him as a zealot and worse. A smirk lifted the corners of his lips. His posture read arrogant from his pushed back shoulders to his loose fists. Anticipation blazed in his eyes.

“Ladies, after you.” He gave a slight bow, held out a polite hand.

“What are you going to do? Shoot us? In the middle of a party?” God, she hoped not, but bravado was the only defense she had handy.

“Nope.” He strolled over and pried the tiny party-sized purse out from underneath her arm. Her keys landed on the floor and her lip gloss rolled into a corner. He stuffed her phone in a pocket and tossed her clutch to the floor. He pulled out his own phone. When he found what he was looking for he leaned in to share it with her. She refused to engage and he nudged her, like they were best friends and she needed to have a look. Another nudge. Harder this time. She glanced down.

Her house. Next photo: Caleb coming up her walk. One of her. Next: Kellie pushing Quinn in the stroller they’d borrowed. Another picture of Kellie. Kellie again. She held herself still. Her brain flinched then stalled, deprived of air. She sucked in a breath. Kellie’s silhouette through her front window.

“Very pretty. Always thought so.” The smile, and his triumph, were in his voice. “All tucked in for the night. Safe. For now.”

Sophie lifted her head. What was there to say? To do? She turned to Kristine, who watched with a hand pressed against her mouth, disbelieving. They stared at each other. Sophie nodded. Then they turned and walked through another side door into an empty hallway.

****

Caleb searched for Sophie among the many guests. It was a packed house. He checked his watch. Again. It was 11:15 pm. Still more guests arrived creating an ebb and flow of people. Friends and acquaintances greeted each other, moved on. People gathered around the bar areas set up at various stations. Wait staff roamed with trays. Jewels glittered, laughter trilled, music serenaded them.

But no Sophie. He knew in his gut she wouldn’t leave without him. Too stubborn. Too invested in the outcome.

A waiter paused beside him, he shook his head. His stomach churned, but it wasn’t hunger. It was concern. Or something a few levels above it. He never should have left her alone.

He spotted Tiffany across the room. She was snuggled up against another acquaintance of theirs. He headed in their direction.

“Tiffany, Evan.”

They exchanged pleasantries. He ignored Tiffany’s pout.

“Have you seen Dr. Monroe?”

“Who?”

He didn’t have the patience to deal with her shallow bitchiness. He didn’t care if her uncle was a managing partner. “It’s important.”

She snuggled closer to Evan. “She left with Kristine.”

Caleb froze. “Kristine’s here?”

Tiffany looked at him like he was crazy. “It’s kind of her party.”

“I was under the impression she wasn’t feeling well.”

“She seemed fine to me.” She shrugged and turned away.

“Thanks.” He patted Evan’s shoulder in sympathy. “Take care.”

Worst case scenarios danced through his mind like poisoned sugar plums. He wove a path through the chatter. Jason didn’t know Kristine was at the party. Good thing or bad thing? Or a lie? What was Sophie doing with Kristine? And why couldn’t he find either of them?

A crush of people parted and he stepped into their midst. He mumbled a few words of small talk then asked about Kristine. They either remembered seeing her briefly or hadn’t seen her at all and no one could tell him where Kristine was now.

Not good.

The closer he got to the doors the less sparse the crowd. A retired provincial court judge flagged him down, a friend of his father’s, he could hardly refuse to stop and offer a few words. He kept his eyes on the crowd and catalogued the people drifting in and out of the room. They were exchanging courthouse rumors when a man stepped into the doorway. Caleb’s heart stopped cold. When his gaze landed on Caleb he stopped searching and nodded his head. The skinhead.

Caleb excused himself. When he was within four feet of him he turned his back and led the way. Caleb pulled out his phone, his thumbs punching out the last couple of words to the message he’d drafted earlier to his friend with the Vancouver Police Department, he included the photo he’d taken earlier. He hit send and stuffed his phone in his pocket. Then once again he was climbing the broad staircase leading to the upper levels of the house. They paused in front of Jason’s office. With a sneer he pushed open the door and motioned Caleb inside. Caleb hoped like hell the private investigator he’d hired knew his stuff and that the recording technology Zack Kincaid had set him up with was working.

Caleb stepped past him into Jason’s office for the second time. Relief came quick at finding Sophie, pale, tense, but unhurt. The skinhead shut the door behind him and moved to stand against the wall to his left. Kristine was there sitting beside Sophie on the opposite side of the room. Jason lounged against the front of his desk, arms crossed. He tried hard for casual. And failed.

“Perfect. Enough time to figure out a few things before our announcement.” Jason held his hand out to his wife. Kristine pressed into Sophie and grasped for her hand. His jaw tightened. His arm dropped.

“Jason, have you lost your mind?” Caleb stepped forward. So did the man to his left. He held up a hand to stop him and keep him in place. “What’s this going to accomplish? Why are Kristine and Sophie here? This is between you and me.”

“Not anymore. You involved my wife. You dragged Kristine into this.” He stood full height and scowled in Caleb’s direction. “This is your fault. All yours. What happens now is on you.”

“Jason.” Kristine tried to stand and wobbled. She put a hand out to catch the back of the couch. Tears flooded her eyes. “Stop it. Stop
this
.”

“There’s no need for any of this.” Caleb moved in Kristine’s direction. Jason blocked his way. Caleb’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. His cue to send the police.

“I’m doing this as much for her, for our child, the future of our family.” He kept his eyes on Caleb. There was no remorse in his voice, only purpose.

Child?

It was a hammer blow against any hope he had of reasoning with him. It changed everything. He looked to Kristine for confirmation. She bit down on her bottom lip, tears glistening in her eyes, head nodding in apology.

“Jesus, Jason.” Caleb lifted his hands, palms open, heart on his sleeve. “All the more reason to let them go.”

“Not until we come to an understanding.”

Kristine put a hand over her mouth but her cry escaped through her shaking fingers.

“Here. Sit down. Try to stay calm.” Sophie rose from the couch to support Kristine who swayed. She put her arms around her, hugged her close. Her worried eyes went from him to Drummond. “She needs medical attention. You have to get her to a hospital. Now.”

God, he was so in love with her. So much it hurt. And because he did he feared for her. So much it paralyzed him. He struggled, pushed to find his reason and a way to stall until the police arrived. “Listen to her, Jason. Let them go.”

“When I hear advice from a real doctor I’ll take it.”

Enough.

“Do not be so fucking stupid you can’t see what’s happening right in front of you. It’s over.” His words stabbed the air. The wrong words. Careless words. “You’re done.”

Jason advanced until they were nose to nose. “I’ve had just about enough of your threats for one evening.”

“You heard Sophie. Kristine needs medical attention. If you do not want to lose this child too…” Caleb gritted his teeth. He had Jason’s attention right where he wanted it. On him. “Let. Them. Go.”

His whiskey soaked breath was a whisper in his face. “You are a dead man.”

“Yeah?” Caleb worked up a sneer while counting seconds in his head.

“Oh, yeah.” Jason searched his face, lips parted, teeth showing.

“I’m fine.” Kristine pushed up from the couch and moved in their direction. Or tried to, before Sophie grabbed onto her arm. “There’s no need to hurt anyone. Please.”

“See, she’s fine.” But Jason’s lips thinned. He backed up. “She comes from strong stock after all. The Lincolns are nothing if not hearty folk.”

“You have me. You don’t need them.”

“Ever the self-sacrificing type. It’s getting old, Caleb. You’ve already got the girl, no need to impress her. As for Kristine, her place is with me. Always. ’Til death do us part.”

At those words Kristine slipped back down onto the couch. Sophie sat down beside her. She put a hand to Kristine’s forehead then her cheek. “She needs to go to the hospital. For the sake of your child she needs to go now.”

Caleb glanced at the bald man to his left. His jacket was open, gun holster easily accessible. His hands clasped in front of his body. Eyes eager. Avid. Strained with waiting.

“Caleb and Sophie are going for a ride.” Jason consulted his watch. He nodded at his man who drew his gun. Then he motioned to Kristine. “You and I have an announcement to make.”

Kristine stared at him horrified. “No.”

“Yes.” Jason lunged for Kristine who shrank back against the couch. Sophie, being Sophie, tried to block him from his wife. He slapped her. She slapped back.

Caleb was forced to turn his back on Jason and move to stop the skinhead who charged in their direction.

The skinhead yanked out his gun. “Not another step.”

Caleb eyed the gun. He put up his hands and shifted. His sole intention to block the women from his view. He tracked the man’s eye movements and stepped in time to them. He paid attention to the sounds behind him. Another slap. A grunt. Kristine’s cry.

“Out of my way.” The skinhead tried to shove past him.

From behind an arm wrapped around Caleb’s throat. He stumbled under Jason’s weight.

“Call her off, Caleb.” Jason’s breath was hot against his ear.

Caleb latched onto Jason’s arm and yanked. His grip loosened a fraction and he sucked air into his lungs. He stumbled when Jason swung them around and he grabbed for something to hold on to. His fist closed around a handful of fabric. The lapel of a jacket.

A loud crack split the air, hung there suspended. It was an effort to lift his arms to try and cover his ears.

Pain.

The shape of the man in front of him blurred. Jason’s chokehold loosened, but not enough. The floor came up to meet them both. Jason landed in a heap beside him. Caleb stared at the ceiling, tried to catch his breath.

“No.” Sophie’s panicked cry worried him. No—What? What now? Then he heard his name.

His side. Something was wrong with his side. It hurt.

“Sit here. I don’t need you collapsing too.”

Sophie’s voice. Did it mean she was okay? He lifted his head but got distracted by the wet, warm, sticky stuff covering his hand. He was leaking blood.

Oh, shit.

“But he’s hurt.” Kristine’s voice.

Black crept in around the edges of his vision. He swallowed and concentrated on the voices. God, he was going to throw up.

“I know, but you’re in my way. Someone call 911. Now.”

Sophie sank down beside him. “Let me see.”

She undid his tuxedo jacket with frightening efficiency. Buttons popped off his shirt, the tails of it sliding free of his pants. He focused on her face because none of the panic he was feeling showed there, not one scrap. It calmed him until she frowned.

“Not so bad but bad enough. I need towels. Kristine? Get me towels.”

When she didn’t reply Sophie shot her a frustrated look. Caleb watched her reaction and wished he hadn’t. He turned his head to see Kristine hovering over Jason staring down at hands covered in blood.

Sophie lunged. “Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

She pushed Kristine to the side. He watched as she stripped Jason of his pants. Blood spurted. He gagged and turned away.

Other voices in the background. Hard to say who. He didn’t recognize any of them. But they seemed insistent on giving Sophie updates on things like police, ambulances and who was coming.