Colby Lockdown

No one made a sound or even breathed. The distant hum of conversation and coffee mugs sliding across tables and counters from below were the only sounds.

“Are you prepared to issue your demands for the release of the hostages?” Ian inquired with amazing calm and self-assurance.

Jim looked away, the fury now visibly pulsing across his brow.

“There are only two.”

Only two. Great, Slade mused.

All four men waited for the harsh nightmare to become a stone-cold reality.

“Former District Attorney Timothy Gordon will be brought, by whatever means necessary, to the front entrance of the building. This demand is nonnegotiable.”

Now Slade got the picture. This wasn’t about the Colby Agency at all. It was about one of Chicago’s most prestigious political figures.

“Is it your intent to exchange the hostages for Gordon?” Ian asked, his tone still incredibly calm.

“I have two demands, Mr. Michaels,” the man said, his voice equally calm and absolutely firm. “When you have met this first demand, we will discuss the status of the hostages as well as the next step.”

“This is Lucas Camp,” the oldest of those gathered in the storeroom asserted. “Before we go any further, we will need proof of life. And a detailed listing of the physical condition of all hostages.”

The caller made a sound, not really a laugh but something on that order. “We have three injuries, none life-threatening. But, Mr. Camp, if you’re asking about the condition of your wife, she is indeed among the injured.”

Jim swore loudly. Ian and Lucas shot him a glare. Slade moved to Jim’s side, placed a hand on his arm and urged him with his eyes to stay calm. The slightest wrong move or comment could set off a chain reaction no one wanted.

“Under the circumstances,” Ian offered, “we must demand that you release the injured hostages before we proceed with negotiations.”

The sound that echoed in the air was an outright laugh this time. “Mr. Michaels, this is a one-way negotiation. You will bring Gordon to the front entrance. As I’ve already explained, we will discuss the release of the hostages at that point and not a moment sooner.”

“You,” Jim warned, stepping forward, “have made a grave mistake. Release the hostages now and we’ll forget this ever happened. Refuse and you have my word that your life will never again be your own.”

“You have sixty seconds to agree to this demand.”

Shock throbbed in the silence that followed.

“If you do not agree to this demand in the next fifty-five seconds,” the voice demanded when no one responded, “one of the hostages will die.”

“This is—” Ian began.

“Fifty seconds,” the man on the phone interrupted. “Another hostage will die with each minute that passes after that.”

More of that choking silence.

“Forty seconds, gentlemen. Perhaps I’ll start with one of the females.” There was a muffled sound followed by the caller shouting to one of his cohorts, “Bring me the deaf woman. I doubt anyone will really miss her.”

Slade held his breath. Dear God…

“We will do everything in our power,” Ian said, shattering the tension, “to meet your demand.”

“Not good enough, Michaels,” the voice warned. “Thirty seconds.”

“How long do we have to bring Gordon to you?” Jim roared.

Ian looked from Lucas to Jim as if he wanted to argue, but fear for his wife as well as the others kept him from voicing his concerns.

“Twenty-three hours and nineteen minutes. You will deliver D.A. Gordon to the front entrance of the building by seven forty-five tomorrow morning or everyone dies. And I do mean everyone.”

“He’ll be there,” Jim announced. “You have my word.”

“Remember, gentlemen,” the voice cautioned, “any contact with the authorities, any attempts to gain entrance to the building, and everyone dies.”

“You have my word,” Jim repeated without reservation. “Gordon will be there on time as requested. We will cooperate fully with all your terms.”

“Excellent. I’m always relieved when no one has to die. But,” the man added, his voice pulsating with pure evil, “I will without remorse execute one hostage after the other until they’re all dead if the need arises. My men will disappear as quickly and untraceably as they appeared. Just like smoke. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” Jim stated.

The connection was severed. Ian immediately started entering numbers on the keypad of his cell. Jim stopped him. “What’re you doing?”

“Determining if I can track the call back to a traceable number.”

Jim snatched the cell out of his hand. Fury glistened in Ian’s eyes.

“We will contact no one,” Jim told him in no uncertain terms. “We will deliver Gordon just as he requested.”

Again Lucas intervened. “Convoy will get to work on rounding up Gordon,” he suggested. “Ian and I will attempt to get to the bottom of who’s behind this takeover.”

“And my people,” Jim said, “will determine if there is a way inside without detection.”

Three, then five seconds of traumatic silence elapsed.

“Agreed,” Ian said, capitulating.

“Agreed,” Lucas chimed in.

All three looked to Slade. He held up his hands. “I’m ready to do whatever needs to be done.”

“Good.” Jim set his formidable attention on Slade. “Find Gordon. Bring him in.”

Not exactly the easiest job he’d ever been assigned. “What if he doesn’t want to cooperate?” Slade felt the question was a legitimate one.

“Do whatever is necessary,” Jim told him. “Just get him here.”

Slade hesitated to see if Ian would object. When he didn’t, Slade shrugged. “No problem.”

Chapter Three

Inside the Colby Agency, 8:50 a.m.

Victoria tightened her lips against the moan that welled in her throat. Her head throbbed and nausea roiled in her stomach.

She couldn’t show the first sign of weakness. The others were depending upon her.

All fourteen of her staff members had been shoved into the conference room. Two others were injured as well. Thankfully none appeared to be life-threatening.

“Victoria.”

She drew in a deep breath and forced a calm into her voice that she by no means felt. “I’m all right,” she assured Nicole. “We’re all going to be all right. I’m certain Ian, Lucas and Jim are doing all within their power to regain control of the situation.”

Merri Walters most likely had a mild concussion, at the very least a contusion. Victoria ached for the woman. Unable to hear the approach of the bastards who had taken control of the Colby Agency, Merri hadn’t reacted rapidly enough. She’d gotten a brutal whack to the back of the head for the delay. But she was coherent and, mercifully, showed no outward signs of serious trouble.

Fury vibrated through Victoria. Whatever these animals wanted, they would be sorry they had chosen the Colby Agency as their target.

She would see to that. Somehow.

Nicole glanced at Merri and the others huddled around her. “She seems okay.” Her attention shifted to the newest investigator on the Colby staff, Kendra Todd. The swelling and bruises on her face reminded all the others that back talk would not be permitted. “But I’ll need to keep an eye on Kendra. She isn’t accustomed to being pushed around.”

Several of the men, Ted Tallant and Trinity Barrett in particular, had their share of swelling, bruises and scrapes for having attempted to fight off the attack while the rest, Victoria included, ran for exits.

Their captors had been prepared for just such a diversion. Both fire exits had been covered and the elevators had been locked down.

“You monitor Kendra and help Simon with the others,” Victoria agreed. “I’m going to see if I can learn the shackled prisoner’s identity.” He was the one unknown variable in this equation.

Nicole’s gaze followed Victoria’s to the man on the other side of the room. He’d been dragged into the conference room and shackled to a chair as far away from Victoria’s staff as possible within the confines of the same four walls. A cloth sack covered his face and head, and his plain gray sweatshirt and worn jeans gave no indication of who he was or where he’d come from. The generic sneakers he wore had seen far better days. There was nothing about his appearance or his bearing that gave the slightest impression of who he was. He hadn’t attempted to speak or escape, which could mean he was either gagged or drugged. Not that escape was an option considering the way his ankles and wrists were bound together and his waist was manacled to the chair. His head drooped forward as if he were in fact unconscious.

“His guard doesn’t look too friendly,” Nicole commented under her breath.

That much was true. The guard wore black like all the others, including the concealing ski mask. The weapon in his hand indicated he didn’t trust anyone enough to holster it. Though all visible beyond the mask were his dark eyes, that glimpse into his psyche warned that he wasn’t taking any chances or any grief.

“The least I can do is try,” Victoria insisted as she struggled from her position on the floor to her feet. Her head swam. She braced against the wall to steady herself. She’d made the mistake of struggling with the two men who had escorted her to this room. Being made an example of wasn’t a surprise—she’d expected as much. Her attackers had wanted to ensure all present realized that Victoria was no longer in control. Several of her staff members had gotten roughed up when they’d attempted to come to her aid. All the more reason she had to tread carefully. Her staff would be taking their cues from her.

Their safety depended a great deal on her every action.

Even as the thought echoed in her brain, she slowly crossed the room toward the shackled man and his personal guard. She’d already spotted the tracks of dried blood down the front of his sweatshirt. He no doubt needed medical attention the same as she did and many of her staff members.

“Back on the floor,” the man with the gun ordered. He shifted the business end of his weapon in her direction to reinforce his order.

Victoria halted. “He’s bleeding.” She gestured to the mysterious prisoner. “I just want to check to see that he’s not seriously injured. He may need medical attention.”

The guard scoffed. “He’ll be dead soon enough. Any injuries he sustained are inconsequential.”

Victoria refused to flinch. “Surely you don’t mean to deprive us of proper care for our injuries, and some water.” She indicated the door on the other side of the room. “There’s bottled water and coffee in the lounge across the hall. And first-aid supplies.” If someone made a run for it, it couldn’t be her. She would not leave a single member of her staff behind. Perhaps Nicole would be allowed to go across the hall. She could attempt an escape if the opportunity presented itself.

This very minute Lucas, Ian and Jim would be planning how to resolve this takeover. These bastards had no idea how lucky they would be to survive the coming battle.

“Sit down,” the guard ordered. “Or—” he shifted his aim toward the others huddled around Merri “—one of them dies.”

Victoria backed up a step. “Fine. I’ll sit.” She couldn’t take the risk that he might not be bluffing. “But you, sir, should think about how to keep your hostages from further harm. We’re no good to you unless we’re alive.”

His glare was his only response.

The unidentified prisoner was apparently unconscious. She hadn’t heard a moan or any other sort of sound from him. If he’d been awake and aware of himself, he would surely have tried to communicate as Victoria had questioned the guard about him.

As she settled on the floor near the members of her staff, she and Nicole exchanged a look of defeat.

No. Victoria refused to be defeated. Not by these men. Not by anyone. True, she had lost that battle, but she wasn’t through by a long shot.

Simon Ruhl, one of her most trusted investigators and one of her seconds-in-command, kept one arm around Merri as she leaned against his shoulder. He flashed a ghost of a smile at Victoria. She understood what the gesture meant. They would be okay. Lucas, Ian and Jim would not fail. They would find a way to neutralize the hostiles. Simon’s confidence affirmed her own.

All Victoria and her people had to do was remain patient and cooperate with these infiltrators. This day, this nightmare, would soon be reversed. The most brilliant minds on the planet were working together.

The conference room door abruptly flew inward. All eyes swung to the man loitering in the open doorway.

“You,” the man who appeared to be in charge said to Victoria, “come with me.” It was impossible to tell him apart from the others except for his voice. His accent said he wasn’t an American by birth. Perhaps he was of European ancestry.

Simon and several others braced to defend Victoria, but she signaled with a small shake of her head for them to stand down.

Whatever happened to her, the most important thing was for the others to remain safe. To survive.

As Victoria dragged herself up once more and walked slowly toward the door, she tried to remember if she’d told Lucas she loved him that morning before leaving for the office. They’d shared a light kiss. That part she remembered vividly, as always.

Tears brimmed on her lashes and the ache deepened in her chest. They hadn’t had nearly enough time together. She’d made him wait so very, very long.

And Jim? When they’d spoken by phone last night, had she told him how very much she loved him? Or Jamie, her sweet little granddaughter?

Victoria hoped that was the case.

She might never get the opportunity again.

Chapter Four

Treamont condo complex, 9:20 a.m.

Mia Dawson checked her reflection in the mirror once more. She could do this. No matter that he was most likely on to her.

She could do it.

No one else had the level of access she did. If she failed to get this done…then he would just get away with his crimes.

It was her duty as a citizen of Chicago—as a human being—to see that he was stopped. And she owed it to her cousin to ensure justice prevailed.

Mia took a deep breath, moistened her lips and strengthened her determination.

There was no one else. It had to be her.

Grabbing her purse and keys on the way to the front door, she pushed aside the fear and reached for the door. She could do this.

A fist pounding on the slab of wood shook the doorknob in her hand.

She blinked, resisted the impulse to draw back a step. It wouldn’t be him or one of his men. She was on her way to his home now. He would much rather carry out any confrontation on his own turf.

Just check the security peephole and see who it is.

Mia leaned forward and took a look. A tall man with blond hair stood on the other side of her door. A frown furrowed her brow. She’d never seen this man before. She squinted, looked again. No, he was a stranger. Knowing her boss, he could have hired someone new just for this job.

Taking care of the enemy.

She swallowed back the uncertainty, deliberately slowed her breathing. “Who is it?” No point in pretending she wasn’t home. If he’d been sent to take care of her, he would know she wasn’t at work and that her car remained in the underground parking garage.

“I’m Investigator Slade Convoy. I have a few questions for you related to your work with former district attorney Timothy Gordon.”

Holy hell. She searched her brain, tried to reason what his statement meant. Seemed damned coincidental that an investigator would show up at her door at precisely this moment.

“Do you have some ID?” IDs could be faked, but asking felt like the right thing to do. He would surely expect her to ask.

The man shoved a credentials case close to the peephole. The case was open so that the identification card was displayed.

The Colby Agency. Private Investigator Slade Convoy.

The Colby Agency. The name rang a bell. She’d heard it at some point. Maybe on a case her boss had prosecuted. Maybe from a defendant. She stiffened her posture and demanded, “Why would you want to talk to me? Who sent you?” The latter was the far better question. If he told the truth.

“Ma’am, I really don’t want to do this in the hallway. The subject matter is sensitive.”

Ah, he avoided the important question altogether. Getting inside was his objective. “Who did you say sent you?” she repeated, though he hadn’t said at all.

“Victoria Colby-Camp, the head of the Colby Agency.”

That name sounded familiar as well. “Is there a way I can verify that?”

Impatience etched across his face. “You can call my supervisor. His name is Ian Michaels.” To her surprise, the man rattled off a number.

Mia chewed her bottom lip. What the hell? She fished her cell phone from her purse and entered the number.

After the first ring, a male voice uttered, “Michaels.”

She cleared her throat. “This is Mia Dawson. There’s a man at my door. His…name is Slade Convoy. He claims he represents your agency.”

This made no sense! He could have given her any number. No matter what this Ian Michaels said, he could be lying as well. She wasn’t thinking.

“Ms. Dawson, it would mean a great deal to the Colby Agency if you allowed Mr. Convoy to ask you a few questions. I can’t divulge the nature of the situation, as you might well imagine. But your assistance is greatly needed and would be genuinely appreciated.”

She had to be out of her mind to even consider opening the door. “I’m sorry, Mr. Michaels, but you and Mr. Convoy are asking me to open my door to a complete stranger. I’m certain you can understand how unwise such a move would be.”

“I do understand, Ms. Dawson.” He paused. “I don’t want to frighten you, but this is a matter of life and death. Without your help, fifteen people stand to lose their lives.”

Good Lord. How did she say no to that? Would anyone go that far to gain access to her when all he had to do was wait for her in the basement near or inside her vehicle? “All right. I’ll…talk to him.” Michaels thanked her before she disconnected. She had to admit that he sounded genuinely sincere.

Mia peered out the security hole once more. “Mr. Convoy, remove your jacket, please, so that I can see whether or not you’re armed.”

The man rolled his eyes but acquiesced to her demand. He removed the lined leather coat he wore and dropped it to the floor. Then he held up both hands, surrender style, and turned all the way around so that she could ensure there was no weapon tucked into his waistband.

When he faced the door again, he dropped his arms to his sides. “Satisfied?”

Another moment of hesitation lapsed before she relented and opened the door. He stood before her, taller than he’d looked through the tiny hole. One more deep breath. “How can I help you?”

He gestured to the room behind her. “Surely you can understand how I wouldn’t want to have this discussion in a public corridor like this.”

No way was this man getting her alone inside her condo. “Since I don’t know the nature of your business, I’ll have to disagree. What can I do for you, sir?” She’d made all the compromises so far—time for him to make one.

Tension started to throb in his square jaw. If he was one of her boss’s thugs, he was damned good-looking. She gave herself a mental shake. What the hell was wrong with her?

“Fine.” The tightening of his lips warned that he wasn’t happy. “The Colby Agency is investigating Mr. Gordon. I’m hoping you can clear up a couple of things for us before we make a wrong step. Whatever you tell me will be completely off the record. No one will connect any of it back to you.”

Interest stirred. Gordon was being investigated? This was the first she’d heard of that. “What sort of investigation?”

Convoy glanced around. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I just can’t talk about this in the open like this. You’re going to have to trust me.”

Anticipation nudged her. This could be the break she’d been hoping for. All she had to do was take the risk. She reached into her purse and removed her pepper spray, rested her forefinger on the trigger. “Come in.” Stepping back, she opened the door wider.

Convoy picked up his coat and crossed her threshold. She hadn’t noticed until then that he wore cowboy boots. Faded jeans and a striped button-up shirt. Other than the pricy jacket he didn’t exactly look like any high-class investigator she’d ever met. And if she recalled correctly, the Colby Agency was no low-rent P.I. shop.

Keeping her finger ready on the trigger, Mia closed the door and turned to her visitor. “What is the nature of your investigation?”

“Our client,” he began, “has requested a face-to-face with Mr. Gordon.”

Mia shrugged. “Gordon has a secretary. I’m certain a simple phone call is all you’d need to set up an appointment for your client.” Mia wasn’t the man’s secretary. She’d been his personal assistant for two years, had the rest of this month to go and then they were done. A tingle of fear shimmered through her. Less than one month to go to get what she needed. She was so close, but close wouldn’t cut it. The evidence had to be in her possession before she made her next move.

And that all depended upon whether or not he was on to her extracurricular activities.

Convoy glanced around the room. “I’m afraid the usual route for this sort of thing won’t work. Our client wants this meeting off the record as well.”

A new kind of fear reared its ugly head. “What does that mean?” Good grief, she’d been so fired up to get the goods on Gordon, she very well may have walked into a trap. But what kind of trap? What was the Colby Agency after? Who was this client he kept referring to?

His gaze, the shade so intensely green that it made her quiver, zeroed in on hers. “I’m going to cut right to the chase, Ms. Dawson.”

“That would be nice.” She braced, mentally and physically.

“We have a hostage situation at the Colby Agency. Contacting the authorities is out of the question. If I don’t bring Gordon in for this little tête-à-tête, then folks are going to die. I have only a few hours to accomplish that task.”

Mia hadn’t seen anyone else in the corridor outside her door. This man was alone. No cameras. No audio recorders visible. He was unarmed, for heaven’s sake. Yet, this had to be some kind of scam or setup. It was too bizarre to be real. Mia Dawson had never believed in coincidences.

Not to mention what he was talking about was kidnapping. A felony.

“O-kay.” She felt her gaze narrow. “What’s going on here? I don’t know what you’re up to, but you can tell me the truth now or I’m calling the police.” Her free hand went instinctively to her cell phone while her forefinger settled more fully on the pepper spray trigger. This game was over.

“Wait.” He held up both hands as she produced her cell. “I’m telling the truth,” he urged. “I don’t know what else to say to convince you, but this is not a scam or a joke. It’s real and people are going to die.”

Maybe if he hadn’t looked dead serious—or if she didn’t want to get her boss so badly—she wouldn’t have hesitated.

Could she really have gotten so lucky that an avenue to execute her plans had fallen right into her lap?

“You want me to believe you?” She hiked up her chin in defiance of the skepticism simmering beneath the hope. “Take me to the Colby Agency and let me hear this from someone besides a voice on the telephone.”

His hands dropped impotently to his sides once more. “That’s the one thing I can’t do.” That unsettling gaze pierced hers once more. “The truth is, ma’am, I could have waited for you in your little hybrid in the garage. I could have taken you by force. But I’m giving you the opportunity to do the right thing on your own.”