Redstone Ever After Read online

  Gabe moved then, dropping smoothly down into an odd sort of sideways crouch, his left leg extended behind him, his right arm sweeping forward to point in the opposite direction. Even if he hadn’t recognized the signal, hadn’t remembered that Gabe had done a stint on an aircraft carrier, the meaning would have been clear.

  He knew by the way Tess’s breath caught that she recognized it, as well. It had been a while since she’d done that Redstone-arranged afternoon doing practice landings on a carrier, but she clearly hadn’t forgotten the flight-deck signals.

  “Launch,” she whispered.

  “Already have,” Josh said grimly. “This ends now.”

  Chapter 21

  “What if they realize Mac isn’t Josh?” Grace asked as they were getting ready to make the final move.

  “By then it will be too late,” Draven answered his wife as he held up what looked like a large, heavy fountain pen. He pressed a button disguised as a gold logo and a thin, deadly, five-inch blade shot out.

  “I prefer a switchblade to a stiletto, myself,” Mac said mildly as Draven retracted the blade and handed it to him.

  “They take too much room to operate. This one is loaded with a special, powerful spring assembly that will let you penetrate from point-blank range.” He gestured at the wicked scar on his face. “If I’d had one of these, I wouldn’t be carrying this.”

  “Interesting,” Mac said, looking at the pen. “Who came up with that idea?”

  Draven flicked a glance over his shoulder at Ian Gamble, who shrugged. “I’ve taken an interest in useful weaponry of late,” the genius inventor said.

  Since he’d married Sam, Draven thought. All she had to do was describe a situation and a need to him, and they more often than not had a solution in hand within weeks. And once, apparently, she had described the knife fight that had marked him forever, a story she only knew because he used the details to train his people in hand-to-hand combat. Ian never seemed to run out of ideas, only the time to pursue them all, which was at a premium with little Joshua now on the scene.

  He turned back to Mac. “Your sidearm?”

  “Ready.”

  After his near-fatal misadventure in Nicaragua, Mac had come to him and said he’d learned the folly of not knowing how to shoot well enough. Draven put him through a course that would have done the special teams he’d worked with proud. Mac would never be a shooter on Rand’s or his own level, but few were. And he was good enough at close range, and that’s what they’d be dealing with today.

  Draven’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, ready to ignore it, but when he saw it was Detective Captain Chen, his local connection, he answered.

  “Dave?”

  “John. Everything under control there?”

  “Calm before the storm, which will be short and end sweet.”

  Chen accepted his assessment. “Good.” Then, “Did you say the guy your boss was with earlier was named Odell?”

  Draven went still. “Yes.”

  “I don’t know if it’s related to your situation, but we found a body in a car, just this side of the county line. ID says it’s a Bradley Odell.”

  Draven was silent for an instant, feeling things shifting rapidly. “Any details you can give me?”

  “Not many. Appears it might be suicide. Gunshot to the head. Can’t say for sure yet, though.”

  “Thanks, Dave.”

  “Anything I need to know?”

  “Not that I know of, yet. If I find anything, you’ll be the first call I make.”

  After disconnecting the call, he relayed what the man had told him. Silence descended as they all processed, each one, Draven knew, trying to figure out if this had anything to do with Josh.

  “We can’t assume it doesn’t relate,” Sam said.

  “It does,” St. John said. “Maybe not directly.”

  Draven didn’t doubt the man for a second; one didn’t work for Redstone long without learning the man was as close to infallible with information as any human could be.

  “Go, Dam.”

  St. John lifted one shoulder. “General Machine’s in trouble. Odell’s fault, mostly. Ran it into the ground.”

  “Didn’t they just get bailed out last year?”

  St. John nodded.

  “But he didn’t change the way they did things,” Mac said, “which is what put them there in the first place. I knew this was coming from the moment the old man died. He was a tough old bird, and Brad…wasn’t. He wanted everybody to like him. So he gave away the store.”

  St. John snorted, and Draven guessed they all saw the irony in Mac’s words. Josh gave nothing anyone didn’t earn, in his view, but he treated everyone with respect and a quiet confidence that they could and would give him the best they were capable of. And in return, he had not just liking, but love.

  St. John nodded at Mac’s assessment. “Vultures are circling, including Carl Carter of Carter Tool, and he’s ruthless. And he’s got the inside track with the government creditors. Unless Brad comes up with—” he broke off, corrected himself. “—came up with another cash infusion, it would have been over. His time was up tomorrow morning.”

  “You think he asked Josh for money? That that was the purpose behind this whole trip?”

  “I heard,” St. John said, without elaborating on which of his huge network of sources had provided the information, “he was trying to sell this piece of property they were hiking through.”

  “To Josh,” Draven said, understanding now.

  “Who would have said no,” Mac said. “He wouldn’t put Redstone in that position, not considering who Odell’s been dealing with.”

  “But we still don’t know if his death is related to this,” Reeve put in.

  “Unless he tried to call it off, and when the guy didn’t answer him…” Sam said slowly.

  “He took the easy way out?” Alvera suggested.

  “We can’t discount the very real possibility that’s what happened,” Draven said. “But it doesn’t change what we have to do now.”

  “Then let’s roll,” Sam said.

  They all nodded, and Draven turned back to Mac, who was still fiddling with the heavy ring.

  “Emma?” Draven asked.

  “I talked to her a few minutes ago. Told her I’d be home for dinner.”

  “You will,” Draven said. He glanced over to where Ian was planting a serious kiss on his wife. He waited until they pulled apart, and Sam ran her fingers through her husband’s perpetually floppy hair. Draven was surprised the young inventor’s wire-rimmed glasses weren’t steamed over.

  There had been a time—when his own life had been an empty, cold thing—when he would have had no patience with such things. But Grace had changed that, just as she had changed him, down to his core. They’d shared a kiss of their own a short while ago, and now she simply stood there watching him calmly.

  “Be back shortly,” he told her.

  “I know,” she said, nothing short of utter confidence in her voice. “And you will have Josh and Tess with you.”

  He turned to Mac. “Ready?”

  “I am. Enter one arrogant, uncaring and utterly mistaken version of Josh Redstone.”

  “We need to talk,” Josh said, gripping her shoulders and staring down at her. “And when this is over, we will.”

  Josh Redstone was through playing games.

  She knew she’d been right when she’d thought it; she knew him too well to mistake the mood. Josh was through waiting.

  It just hadn’t occurred to her until this moment that her thought could be applied to more than just those men outside. It was only the situation, she told herself, aware that even in her mind the words sounded desperate.

  “I suppose asking you to stay here is pointless?” He was speaking briskly now, like a man with a mission.

  “Absolutely,” she answered, shoving all the tangled emotions and speculation out of her mind. “Draven would revoke my honorary Redstone Security membership.”


  For an instant Josh’s intense gray eyes narrowed, and she guessed that he was suspecting Draven had trained her in a bit more than the basics. But he didn’t argue. Whether that was a tribute to her or to his faith in Draven, she wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter, not now. All that mattered was getting him out of this safely.

  “If it comes to that, I want Pinky,” she said, with no more emphasis than if she’d requested a cup of coffee.

  An odd gleam came into those familiar gray eyes. “You got him,” he drawled, “and I don’t envy him one bit.”

  Movement outside once more attracted her attention. She quickly spotted St. John and Reeve again walking hand in hand, as if still absorbed in each other and oblivious of the jet that sat barely yards away.

  Josh walked across the stateroom, looked out the matching window on the other side. She followed, and saw a man in coveralls messing with a cart with several bags. She realized after a moment that the man was Tony Alvera, and the bags were the duffels Redstone Security used, masquerading as ordinary luggage. Noah Rider was back at the fuel truck, which seemed to her closer to the plane this time. A small pickup labeled rather grandly “Airport Operations” was parked next to the fuel truck, and it’s driver, Logan Beck, was talking with an air of utter casualness to Noah.

  All perfectly normal-looking for an airport. That it was a bit much for this little field would not, hopefully, occur to their uninvited guests until it was too late.

  She wondered where Draven was, if he was on board the Hawk III overseeing this operation. Then answered her own question; he would be exactly where he needed to be—with Mac as they started the proposed masquerade. What he wouldn’t be doing was worrying about his team doing their jobs. He was as steeped in the Redstone tradition as Josh himself; he let his people do what they’d been so well trained—by him—to do.

  She’d asked him once about his philosophy at the end of the exhausting day when he’d at last deemed her worthy of protecting Josh.

  “A wise man taught me that whenever one of your team shines, it reflects on you,” was all he’d said.

  She would shine, she thought. No matter what, Josh would walk out of here alive and unhurt.

  Time to stir the pot, Josh thought. Whatever Draven’s plan was, it could only be helped by a little internal chaos here. Tess hadn’t liked the idea, but had eventually given in.

  Pinky, he guessed, was still hovering outside the stateroom door. So he went into the head, unlocked the opposite door that led into the main cabin, and stepped quietly through. Brown Shirt was hovering near the plane’s exit door, peering out the small porthole window, as if looking through the door instead of the bigger main window would make his quarry arrive faster.

  Josh leaned casually against a bulkhead in a position that disguised the placement of his right hand within easy reach of the weapon at his waist, hidden by the jacket he’d never taken off for just that reason.

  “You know, Redstone has never flown in here with guards before,” Josh said casually.

  The man whirled. Josh hadn’t been able to see if he still had his weapon in his hand. A shot echoed in the cabin as he fired wildly, in a near panic. Wood splintered near Josh’s head as a cabinet door took the hit. He felt a sting uncomfortably close to his eye. Instinctively he reached for the Colt. But then Pinky yelled. He appeared in the cabin, dragging Tess, his own weapon jammed against her neck. The sight made Josh jerk his hand away from the butt of the .45.

  Brown Shirt wheeled on his partner, taking aim. Pinky screeched. He let go of Tess, raised his hands and backed away. For a moment Josh half expected Brown Shirt to fire. His gaze flickered to Tess in warning, but she’d already moved to one side, out of a possible line of fire.

  “You’re an idiot!” Brown Shirt screamed at the hapless Pinky. “You let him walk right in here behind me!”

  “How’, I s’posed to watch both doors at once?” Pinky whined.

  “Just shut the hell up and do your job if you want to get paid.”

  Josh didn’t miss the contempt in the man’s voice. But he heard an undertone of tension, even fear, as well. The man was falling apart.

  Amateurs.

  Josh could almost hear Draven’s disgusted voice echoing in his head.

  “Well,” he said, “I guess we’ve established you don’t work for Redstone. They’d never hire you two.”

  Brown Shirt spun back around, and for an instant Josh held his gaze, using every instinct he’d ever developed over hundreds of negotiations to try to read the man.

  “As if I’d ever work for the all-mighty Redstone,” Brown Shirt said, his tone acid, “or any other greedy corporation, sucking the people dry.”

  “Tell that to the thousands of people who do work for Redstone. So what are you after?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You’re waiting for Redstone, you must think you’re going to get something out of him.”

  Brown Shirt’s mouth curled. “Oh, I will.”

  It was pretty obvious now that Brown Shirt didn’t care anymore if “Mike” knew he wasn’t a Redstone employee. So Josh pushed a little further.

  “You know he’s got a strict policy, a commandment, in fact. No ransom. Ever.”

  “We’ve got that handled.” He was so distracted, Josh wondered if he even realized what he was giving away.

  “Do you?” Josh said softly, wondering just how they thought they were going to get around that.

  Brown Shirt seemed to suddenly realize he’d let too much slip. He swore, sharply, insulting Josh’s parentage and species. He gestured sharply, insulting Josh’s parentage and species. He gestured sharply at Pinky, with the weapon Josh still wasn’t sure he had control of. “Get them back in there. Lock the other bathroom door and don’t turn your freakin’ back!”

  The orders were snapped out in the tone of a man teetering on the edge. Josh knew he’d come within a hairsbreadth of pushing too far.

  But he also knew he’d done what he’d wanted to. Brown Shirt hadn’t looked out the window this whole time. And both men were distracted enough, worried enough, that whatever Draven was planning, they likely wouldn’t react coolly or calmly.

  Every bit of edge you could get counted. If it had only been him, he would have pushed harder. But the sight of Tess with that gun on her wasn’t something he’d forget. Ever.

  And now it was up to Draven.

  He just hoped whatever the man had planned, it went off before Brown Shirt decided to cut his losses. Because if that happened, the next shots he fired wouldn’t be wild. And he and Tess could end up dead.

  Not Tess, Josh swore to himself. No matter what happened, not Tess. He would not let that happen. No matter what it took.

  The group of three people headed toward the Hawk V. Sam looked normal, lithe and leggy and Nordic as usual, although the sight of her hanging—and apparently giggling—on the arm of someone other than Ian was disconcerting.

  It was the other two that really threw him. Mac wasn’t just walking, he was swaggering. His entire demeanor was one of arrogance. As they walked he was pointing his index finger sharply—what the hell was that gaudy ring he was wearing?—at the man wearing a pilot’s jacket and glasses who walked meekly cowed beside him.

  And there was the true shocker; if Harlan McClaren as a blustering bully was hard to believe, John Draven as meek was impossible. But he could see the point of Draven looking less dangerous than he was.

  “There’s our distraction,” Tess said from beside him.

  “But what are they playing at?” Josh asked, staring.

  “They’re giving them exactly what they expect,” Tess answered. “They expect you—Josh—to be a self-important tyrant. They can’t even conceive of a man in your position being who you really are.”

  He wanted to tell her a little about who he really was—and what he was really feeling—but now wasn’t the time. That if things went badly he might never get the chance wasn’t something he wanted to think about. Every
thing else would be handled; if nothing else, Elizabeth’s death at far too young an age had taught him that there indeed was no guarantee of tomorrow. So his will, massive though it was with all the divisions, foundations, charities, individuals and other instructions as to his wishes, was up to date. As were his de tailed instructions on what was to be done with Redstone itself.

  But Tess… No, he thought. He simply wouldn’t let it happen. But it could, it might….

  This uncertainty was as unlike him as Harlan’s swagger. And the unaccustomed feeling tipped him over into stealing five more seconds. He grabbed Tess’s shoulders and gently but insistently turned her to face him.

  “You know what you mean to me?”

  She hesitated, as if trying to read beneath the surface of the words. And to her credit, she didn’t deny the possibilities looming ahead. “I… Yes. I think so.”

  “Double it,” he said gruffly. “Quadruple it. We have to talk,” he said again, and glanced out at the man who was going to make that talk possible. He’d always had complete faith in John Draven. And he’d never let him down.

  Draven concentrated on not stumbling; Ian had loaned him the magnifying glasses explaining that he always carried them because he never knew when he might want to examine something very closely. It fit with the man’s genius, so Draven barely blinked.

  But he was blinking now. However, having to look over the top of the lenses helped him keep his head suitably bowed as Mac, pointing in that imperious manner, kept talking. From a distance, Draven was sure it looked as if he were spouting orders instead of recounting his wish to send the two intruders aboard Josh’s plane down to Nicaragua for a visit with Omar, the warlord who had tortured him to the point where he would have welcomed the grim reaper, had he come calling.