The Professional. Addison Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ winding down when she went out for a breath at nearly midnight.

      Which meant she’d been missing all night.

      Unwilling to show any weakness, she tamped down on the fear that she’d been gone too long for anyone to find a trail and focused on whatever she could possibly learn now.

      “Way to stack the deck in your favor.” She pushed every bit of Dallas socialite into her tone and prayed she didn’t get a smack for her efforts.

      What she received instead was far more alarming than she ever could have imagined. Tripp leaned forward, those snake eyes telegraphing menace and a cocky sort of assurance. “I always stack the deck in my favor, Miss Richardson. Gambling is for the weak-minded. Those who understand that remain in control.”

      A horrible sickness curled in her belly—a physical reminder that she wasn’t in control—yet she pressed on. “Clearly the strategy is working for you. You’re in hiding, kidnapping innocent women, while your wife refuses to see you. Good plan.”

      Tripp moved even closer, so close she could see the pores of his face and the black lines that rimmed his eerie irises. “The bravado is amusing, but taunting me won’t help. Nor will jabs about my wife. I will have the rubies. I will have my wife. And then I’ll be rid of you and your friends. Is that understood?”

      She said nothing, even as she refused to break eye contact. As Tripp lifted his head from hers, he tossed his final salvo. “You can at least take heart that I don’t play with my prey.”

      Alex dropped a wrapped bagel and a bottle of water on the end table before turning to follow his boss. It was only at the last minute, as the man turned from the door, that something dark and violent struck through the roiling fear already swimming in her stomach.

      Lange might not want to play with his prey, but Alex looked like he lived for it.

      * * *

      Max shoveled in his third biscuit as he paced Masterson’s small home office. The man’s wife had been sweet and understanding, dropping off a bakery box of goodies around six. It was now two hours later, and the butter-laden foods had done nothing to assuage the increasing concern they wouldn’t find Violet in time.

      “Let’s track it back, Ryan.” Reed flipped through a small notepad he’d pulled from his pocket earlier. “Can we trace Lange’s movements from when he was released? We’ve got him and his partner, Alex, for about three miles, but the trail goes cold after they get out of downtown.”

      “We found them the other night in Fair Park at the warehouse Tripp owns.” Max stepped forward to point at one of the large computer monitors that currently showcased the view from eight different Dallas traffic cameras. “Did they go back?”

      “The warehouse is blocked off, and there’s round-the-clock protection on it.” A dark look passed over Reed’s face, his mouth turned down in a hard frown. “Of course, there are supposed to be guards on it. Let me make a quick call and confirm that order didn’t get lost as neatly as Lange’s paperwork.”

      Ryan stopped him. “Let me. I can pull the records from here. It’s a standard query.”

      Within moments, Ryan let out a sigh. “Nope. Two officers have been there since the arrests last Thursday. No break in protocol and CSI is expected to sweep it fully on Monday.”

      At the image of forensic detectives working through the warehouse for any clues, Max had a different thought. “What if we’re going about this wrong?”

      “How so?” Ryan reached for his coffee, his ability to pass over the bakery box an impressive feat.

      “Lange’s got to have dummy corporations layered under dummy corporations. What work’s been done to find the companies he owns?”

      Reed flipped through his notebook once more. “We’ve been working on that. My partner, Jessie, spent all day yesterday combing real estate files. She couldn’t find a thing about the Fair Park property.”

      “Which means the records have been wiped.” Ryan reached for a donut at that point, his excitement palpable. “Which is something I can do a heck of a lot with.”

      Max gestured Reed toward the door. “Let’s give him a minute to work. I want to check in with Tucker, and I’m sure you want to call Lilah.”

      Tucker had holed up with Lilah, Cassidy and his boxer, Bailey, at Lilah’s town house, and they owed them all a check-in. Reed followed him into the hall, and at the sound of cartoons echoing from the living room, they moved as far as they could in the opposite direction, their voices low.

      “Wherever they are, sooner or later they’re coming back for the other two rubies. Violet’s alive until then.” Max balled his fists. She had to be.

      Of course, if he knew Violet, there was no way she was giving up the location of her ruby. Nor would she even hint she didn’t know the location of its twin, hidden by Cassidy in a separate bank. Violet was a pro at assessing every situation and would no doubt battle Lange to the bitter end of whatever game the man was playing. As strategy went, he admired the hell out of her. But as someone who cared for her, one thought trumped all others in his mind.

      What might happen to her in the meantime?

      “Max?” Reed’s shoulders stiffened with awareness. “We can get to where Cassidy hid her ruby. What about Violet?”

      Max pushed through the pain, forcing a calm he didn’t feel. “She’s been silent on which bank she used. No one’s gotten it out of her, and believe me, I’ve tried.”

      “Do you think she told Lilah or Cassidy?”

      “Tucker already told me Cassidy doesn’t know.”

      “Damn it.” Reed paced a few steps down the quiet hallway before turning back. “She wanted to protect them. Which means she’s also going to try to bluff her way through the negotiation with my stepfather.”

      The trio of biscuits in his stomach balled like lead at the image of Violet attempting to negotiate with Tripp Lange. “Would we expect anything less?”

      A shout from the office had them both running, and Max stopped at the set of screens, a real estate document blown up on one of the monitors. “Here it is,” Ryan said. “It’s under Alex’s name, not Tripp’s. But if you trace the financial backing, you can find Lange all over it.”

      “Where are they?”

      “About an hour outside the city. Twenty miles due east of Waxahachie. The property’s about two hundred acres.”

      Max punched the details into his phone, his mind already whirling with next steps. “Thanks, Ryan. I owe you for this.”

      Reed followed him into the hall, his long strides barely keeping pace as Max barreled toward the driveway. “Slow down, Baldwin.”

      Max spun at the words, his mind already picturing the op, a list of supplies he needed keeping pace with his tactical plans.

      “You can’t go after her alone.”

      “Like hell I can’t.”

      Reed moved СКАЧАТЬ