Best Laid Plans(98)

She stretched and swung her feet over the edge of her bed. It was quarter to eleven, and she had a full day ahead of her. She saw a message on her cell phone. It was from Tobias’s contact, and she smiled.

We want it.

Of course they wanted the video. The woman was a federal agent. It was priceless, truly. From what she’d heard, Tobias’s people had been looking for someone in the FBI to cultivate. This seven minutes would take little Ms. Lucy Kincaid down a peg or ten.

She showered, drank a cup of tea, and sat down at her computer. She made a mental list of everything she needed to do. First was to assign her girls—and boys—for the evening. A good business couldn’t run on supplying only women for the particular needs of men. Some men liked men—and in conservative Texas, that meant discretion. The kind of discretion they paid handsomely for.

Her computer made an odd sound, like it was spinning, getting louder and louder. The screen was blue. Suddenly, white characters scrolled rapidly across the screen and smoke erupted from the hard drive. She jumped back. There was a spark and then the smell of burning metal.

Well, shit. She had everything on that computer, and it was only six months old. Thankfully, she had a complete backup, which saved her data wirelessly every night. She retrieved the backup drive from the closet and plugged it into her laptop in the kitchen.

First thing, order a new damn computer. That was under warranty, and if the dicks on the help desk thought they would make her pay, they had another think coming.

She turned on her laptop and at first nothing happened.

A cloud of suspicion washed over her. She reached over to pull the cable that connected her backup drive to the laptop, but smoke started coming from the laptop, and suddenly, the backup drive sparked and the plastic began to melt.

Someone was destroying her business.

“Don’t move,” a male voice said.

She turned and saw a man she didn’t recognize in the doorway of her kitchen. He was six one, maybe six foot two, lean, with dark hair and blue eyes.

He parted his windbreaker and revealed a gun in a holster.

“You’re not a cop.”

“No, I’m not. But I have a deal to make.”

She tilted her chin up defiantly. “I don’t work with partners.”

“And I have no intention of being your partner. But you’ll want to listen.”

She rose from the table. “There are two federal agents outside. All I need to do is scream.” Mona had been more than a little pissed off that Agents Crawford and Kincaid had sent two agents to watch her 24/7, but now she realized they might come in handy.

“I know. And I’ll leave the way I came—through your basement.”

How did this bastard know about her basement? It wasn’t on the original plans for the building.

“If you alert them,” the stranger continued, “I’ll tell Darlene everything I know about you.”

The blood drained from Mona’s face and she sat heavily on the chair. The room was spinning. This was not happening. No one knew about Darlene. No one.

Sean watched as Mona began to panic. He picked up the small fire extinguisher he’d brought with him and put out the mini fire that the melted backup drive had started. He put the container down out of Mona’s reach, and said, “Tell me everything about the people who want that video.”

She was confused. “You want it, too? I’ll sell to the highest bidder.”

He itched to hit the woman, but he needed to control his temper. Beating up his punching bag had left his fists sore, and if she baited him he would misstep. He had to keep his emotions on complete lockdown. He put himself in Kane’s shoes. He had to be as cold, as calculating, as shrewd as his brother.

“Let me explain something, Ms. Hill.” He waited until she focused on him. “I know everything about you. I know you planted a fake death certificate at the Los Angeles County Registrar so that your sister would think you were dead and not be suspicious that a trust was set up to take care of her and her fatherless son. I know your mother was a drug addict and a prostitute who pimped you out, and would have pimped Darlene out if you hadn’t intervened. I know that you are extremely smart and could have made your money legitimately—after tracking all your shell companies and bank accounts, even I was impressed. But instead, you choose to stay in the sex trade. To each his own, I suppose.

“But you crossed a line, and you do not want me as your enemy. I already destroyed your computers. And the archives in your basement?” Her eyes widened. “Gone.” He snapped his fingers.

“How dare you involve yourself in my business,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I don’t give a shit about your business. I want the man who was going to buy that video.”

She shook her head. “What’s in it for me?”

He held up one of the photos that Renee had taken of Darlene and her son, just that morning. Mona couldn’t prevent the full range of emotions that crossed her face, from rage to love to worry.

“I will take you down and then who will support your sister? Especially when she has to deal with the fallout of your criminal enterprise. Because not only have I traced your money, but I’ve traced every dime that’s gone to your sister. The government will want it back. She’ll lose her house. She’ll lose the trust fund. She’ll lose little Bobby’s college fund. And she’ll know that you supported her off the backs of women just like your pathetic mother.”