Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(58)

Arabella came up to stand next to me.

“He was pretty.”

“What was that all about? You never interrupt me while I’m with clients.”

“Bern texted me and told me to do it. He said you and he sat completely still, staring at each other for ten minutes. He thought something might have gone wrong and said I should check on you.”

Smart move. Garen would consider Bern with his wrestler build and judo shoulders a threat. But Arabella, barely five feet and maybe one hundred and ten pounds wet, would seem harmless. Garen had no idea how close he’d come to being crushed to death.

Ten minutes. Must’ve been when I was trying to find a way through his wall. Felt like a few seconds. I wonder if that’s what Augustine Montgomery felt like. Over a week ago I was trying to convince him to let me shield his mind from Victoria Tremaine, and I pulled some harmless but private information out of his mind. He never realized it happened until I told him. It was like a chunk of time simply disappeared from his memory.

Cold sweat drenched my hairline.

I spun around, ran the few feet to my office, and grabbed my laptop.

“What?” Arabella demanded. “What is it?”

The image of me and Garen sitting across from each other filled the screen.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Shaffer?”

“I’ve come to hire you.”

I clicked to fast forward. Frantic gestures and teeny voices. Blah-blah-blah . . . There.

Garen and I stared at each other. I zoomed in on myself and turned the sound up.

Nothing. I sat completely still, like a statue. So did he. No movements. No words. Just quiet staring. All my secrets were still mine.

I collapsed in the chair. I was suddenly so exhausted.

“Nevada? Are you okay?” Arabella grabbed a tissue box from the corner of the desk and thrust it at me.

I touched my face and realized I was crying.

“I think you’re stressed out,” my sister said. “I have a pack of cigarettes I’ve been hiding from Mom for when Catalina and I get stressed out. There is one left.”

“Mom is going to kill you when she finds out.”

“She won’t find out if you don’t tell her.”

I got up and hugged her.

“Are you okay?” my little sister asked.

“No. But I’m going to be. We’re all going to be.”

My laptop screamed at me. Bug’s face filled it. “Get here! Now, now, now!”

I sprinted out the door to Rogan’s HQ, Arabella at my heels.



I ran through the first floor, pounded up the stairs, and burst onto the second floor. Rynda stood next to Bug, her face pale, her phone to her ear. Kidnappers.

“. . . scared me. I’m very scared.”

She listened for a moment. “My husband is everything to me. I’m going to give the phone to Ms. Baylor. She’s authorized to negotiate on our behalf.” She handed the phone to me.

“This is Nevada Baylor.”

“Good,” a cultured male voice said on the other end. “Perhaps we can finally get somewhere.”

“You broke the rules of engagement,” I said.

Bug’s fingers danced over the keyboard and the man’s voice echoed through the room.

“Oh?”

“We had an understanding, and you broke it.”

“What kind of an understanding, Ms. Baylor?”

“You want your ransom. My client wants the father of her children safely home. You trust that we won’t involve authorities and that we will surrender the ransom, and we trust that you will keep Brian safe and allow us time to prepare the ransom. You made a demand, you gave us no chance to respond, and then you sent Harcourt to attack Rynda and her children in her house. And now you sent us a severed ear. This is a severe breach of trust.”

There was a long pause.

“The Harcourt incident was unplanned,” the man said finally. “It won’t be repeated.”

“Is Brian still alive?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“We would like proof of life, please.”

“Very well.”

The phone went silent. Rynda clenched her fists.

“Hello.” Brian’s quiet voice echoed through the room.

Bug pushed a mic toward Rynda. “How are you?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“In pain,” he said.

“Did they treat your wound? Did they bring in a doctor?” Rynda asked.

“Yes, but it still hurts. Please give them whatever they want.”

“I love you,” she said. “I’m trying, honey. I’m doing everything I can. Please hold on for a little longer.”

“I love you too,” Brian said. He sounded dull, his words devoid of any emotion. Maybe it was his ear, and he was in shock.

Rynda clenched her hands into a single fist. She looked like she wanted to scream.

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” the kidnapper said, “let’s get back to business, shall we?”

“It would help us a great deal if you told us what we’re looking for,” I said.

“You cannot believe that Rynda is that naive.”

“I don’t need to believe anything,” I said. “I’m a truthseeker, and I’m telling you that my client has no idea what you’re asking. The most I got out of Vincent, before he dove through the window, was that it’s something connected to Rynda’s mother.”