The Professional. Addison Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ who always seem to keep their jobs despite the screw-ups. Or who always manage to fade under the radar every time something goes sideways. Why?”

      “Because the entire force isn’t dirty. It can’t be. What you likely have is a small group who need to keep their own counsel and secrets. Rout them out and you find the problem.”

      Max watched Reed weigh his words and continued to work through the problem in his mind. Every way he turned it, the truth seemed more and more clear. Dallas was a huge city, and the majority of its citizens were good, law-abiding people. For Tripp Lange to have as much power and influence as he did—and for no one to know about it—the cancer in the department had to be relatively contained.

      “Come on. Think through the people you trust. We’ll start there and work it through.”

      “There’s a guy I went through the academy with. He’s one of our lead detectives on digital forensics. He’s a good guy. A family man with strong ethics.”

      “Let’s go.”

      * * *

      The first thing she noticed was the absence of noise. Where had all the guests gone? The loud buzz of the wedding had faded, and the only sound she heard was the light, gentle hum of an air conditioner.

      Where was everyone?

      The thought hit hard and fast, and Violet’s eyes popped open at the realization she needed to send Kimberly and Jordan off on their honeymoon. The guests. Where were—?

      The fear at missing the rest of the wedding quickly morphed into something far worse as she realized she hadn’t moved. She was still flat on her back, the room around her full of shadows. She tried again, willing herself into a sitting position, but her body never moved.

      Panic filled her chest in a hard press, and she struggled to catch her breath as her gaze rabbited around the room.

      Where was she?

      As the question rolled over and over, desperately seeking some purchase inside the terror, another question, this one louder than the first, took root.

      How had Reed’s stepfather found her?

      With the legendary focus she was known for—and teased about by Cassidy and Lilah—Violet slowed her gaze along with her breathing and took stock of the room. The thought of her two best friends went a long way toward calming her, and she kept them both close to her heart. They were okay.

      They had to be okay.

      Neither had been out of Reed’s or Tucker’s sight the entire wedding. Which had to be why she was the one who was taken. Her friends were safe.

       Safe.

      She’d focus on that and believe it. Because anything else was unacceptable.

      Violet kept that image in her mind—her two best friends unharmed—and continued to take stock of the room. She was in what looked like a guest room. Although she couldn’t move her head, she knew she was on a bed, the expansive king visible in her peripheral vision. A small light was plugged into the far wall, the soft glow illuminating the room. The cord was visible where it went into the plug, and she considered how she might use it.

      Assuming, of course, she could find a way to move her arms and legs.

      Stilling her breath and the horrifying thought that her captors might have done something permanent to her, she tried once more to move. When a seated position proved impossible, she took another deep breath and focused on smaller motions. Envisioning her hand, she willed movement into her fingers.

      And was rewarded with the light sound of her fingertips scratching over the soft cotton of the bedspread.

       It’s temporary. Just temporary.

      A breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding released in a rush before she added her condition to her arsenal of tools. How long could she play the paralyzed card? Whatever drug she’d been given obviously just needed time to wear off. Her captors likely knew approximately how long, but if she could find a way to use uncertainty to her advantage, she might have surprise on her side.

      With the same quiet focus she’d used on her fingers, Violet settled herself with a few deep breaths and took stock of the rest of her body. She tried wiggling her toes, satisfied when she heard some movement against the mattress, even if she couldn’t move her head to see the progress. And her fingers seemed to gain increasing momentum as she worked on her right hand, then her left.

      A hard jiggle against the door lock drew her attention, and she briefly toyed with playing possum before settling on a new approach. She didn’t run and she didn’t cower. She’d hit this head-on.

      The same man who’d taken her came to stand in front of the bed. “You’re awake.”

      Despite her bravado and the inability to feel much physically, a disturbing sense of menace raced through her body in cold chills.

      “No thanks to you and your boss.”

      The man cocked his head. “So we can dispense with the formalities, then?”

      “What does Lange want?”

      “The rubies.”

      “He’s already got one.”

      “But there are three.” The man’s gaze roamed over her with calculated speculation. “Unless there were more in the cache beneath your floor.”

      “There are three. There have only ever been three. They’re the Renaissance stones of legend.”

      Violet knew she had precious little to trade, but there was no use giving false information over their fantastical find. The Queen of England—wife to King Edward—had wanted the rubies secreted out of England after the Second World War, and their landlady’s father had been the one to do it.

      The fact Mrs. Beauregard thought burying the legendary stones beneath a layer of concrete in an old Dallas warehouse was a good idea was an entirely different matter.

      “How’d you know the stones were even in the warehouse? My partners and I have been there for three years and never even looked beneath the carpet.”

      Although she had a pretty good idea of how Tripp Lange knew—his connections with Cassidy’s late brother-in-law were the start of a terrible chain of contacts—she was curious to see what his rent-a-thug knew.

      “The stones aren’t a secret for those precious few who make it their business to know about these things. Mr. Lange is one of those individuals. He has patience and the will to see every acquisition through.” The man moved in, as quiet and lethal as a snake, and Violet wished like hell she could move to the corner of the bed.

      “He will have the Renaissance Stones. All of them.”

      * * *

      Max fought the need to slam his fists against the front door of the modest north Dallas home and instead waited while Reed rang the bell. He glanced out over the thick, well-manicured lawn, visible in the small pathway lights that led from the driveway to the front door, and took several deep, calming СКАЧАТЬ