Smash and Grab: Action-Packed Thrilling Romantic Suspense (Callahan Security Series Book 2) Read online

  Finally, Logan appeared at the back of the truck. Lacy swore soundly when she saw him. There were a couple of cuts on his face, and a slice on his lip was sending a thin trickle of blood down his chin. His hands were tied in front of him, too. They pushed him toward the truck, and then hoisted him up as they had done with Lacy.

  When they gave him a huge shove and, Logan lost his footing and fell, twisting at the last minute so he landed on his shoulder. The kidnappers jumped down and pulled the door closed after them. Lacy heard the lock click into place.

  Left in total darkness, she didn’t move until the truck started to roll. “Logan.” Silence. “Logan.” Desperation leeched into her voice.

  “Shit. Yeah?”

  “Thank God. Are you OK?””

  “Other than a few cuts and bruises, I’m fine,” he said.

  She let out the breath she had been holding.

  “So,” Logan said, “want to tell me what the fuck is going on? I hope you have an idea, cause I sure as hell don’t.”

  She sighed. “I think they’re trying to get to my father.”

  “Why? Is he rich or something? Are they looking for a big payday?” He coughed a bit as he rolled onto his back.

  “No. At least I don’t think that’s what this is about.” She paused. She really didn’t want to tell Logan the truth.

  “Then what the fuck is it about?” Logan snarled.

  She didn’t blame him. He was obviously angry, deservedly so, but as soon as she told him the truth, he was going to be furious.

  She swallowed. “I think my father refused to sell to them, and they’re trying to force his hand.”

  “Just what the hell does your father sell?”

  She tried to moisten her lips, but her mouth was dry. “My father is an arms dealer.”

  Chapter Three

  Logan froze. “Are you fucking serious? An arms dealer? As in guns?”

  “Shhh! Quiet down. And to answer your question, yes, but more like RPGs, that sort of thing.” Lacy said it so quickly the words had fallen over one another.

  “Whoever these men are, I suspect my father turned them down. I only know about the deals that go through, and not even all of those. Just the ones that he needs logistics help with.” She sighed. “It’s not the first time someone has become…upset at my father and tried to take it out on me. Although this is the first time they have somewhat succeeded.”

  “Somewhat,” Logan growled. “We’re tied up in the back of a box truck, kidnapped by some trigger-happy lunatic. I would say ‘somewhat’ is out the window, lady!” He grunted as he moved into a sitting position.

  Go to the Bahamas Gage had said. Catch some sun, get laid. You need a break. It won’t be hard, just keep an eye on her. We don’t really think she’s involved. This is just a precaution. Precaution, his ass. Logan winced when his ribs throbbed.

  “Wait. You help your father? You’re an arms dealer?” It took a minute for what she’d said to sink in. Could this get worse? Apparently so.

  Her voice was quiet. “More like an occasional assistant.”

  Logan grunted again as he shifted, trying to find a position that hurt less, but it was a losing battle. He leaned back against the wall of the truck and swore loudly.

  “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

  “Fine,” he breathed. He was anything but fine. He was tied up in the back of a truck with an assistant arms dealer, and his ribs and kidneys were killing him. But he wasn’t about to tell her that. It was obvious he didn’t have a clue about the real Lacy Carmichael.

  He should have listened to his gut and said no to his brother, been more forceful, but he’d been intrigued by Lacy from the moment he’d seen her across the boardroom table. When his brother told him about this job, he was thinking of getting laid, alright.. He’d been picturing Lacy wearing a string bikini, lying on a beach towel next to him.

  He should have… Shoulda, coulda, woulda, it didn’t matter now. Regrets weren’t getting him out of this mess. If he hadn’t of come, then Lacy would be trussed up in this truck by herself. The mere thought of that made his stomach clench. Logan cursed softly as he shifted again, trying to get comfortable.

  “So,” he said in a calmer voice, “any idea where we are going? Or what the plan is? It sounds like you’ve been down this road before.”

  “No idea. I’m guessing Scar will try to do some sort of exchange. Us for whatever equipment this guy wants. My father won’t make a deal with them if we’re hurt, so we’re probably physically safe.”

  Logan snorted. “Scar. Fitting. But there’s a problem with your theory. First of all, he was quite willing to kill me back there. The only reason I’m alive is because he thinks he can use me as leverage against you. So, why does he need leverage if he’s just going to trade us?”

  “I…I don’t know.” The sound of a gear grinding filled the truck.

  “Well, I’m sure we’re going to find out.” When he moved, pain radiated up his ribs. He clamped his jaws together and waited until the pain receded. “Did you happen to notice anything usable in this truck? Anything that might come in handy?”

  “No, it’s totally empty.” He could hear her moving closer to him. When the truck hit a bump, she grunted and fell onto his shins. She shoved upright, steadied herself with a hand on his leg then settled next to him. She whispered, “I have this, though.”

  Sticking out his hands, he turned to face her as best he could, which was when his fingers brushed against her breast. It was firm and soft at the same time.

  She gasped.

  “Sorry.” He wasn’t the least bit sorry. Feeling her up could be the last bit of action he was ever gonna get. Besides she’d just rubbed her hand up his leg and he’d enjoyed every minute of it. He was glad she couldn’t see his grin in the dark.

  “No problem. Just keep still, and I’ll find you.” A hand touched his, passing something sharp to him. “I think part of the console was blown off in the gunfight. I grabbed it on the way out of the cab.”

  “Nice. Can you tuck it back into wherever it came from? Chances are better they’ll miss it on you.” He felt her take the piece and then he heard rustling. In his mind’s eye, he pictured several possible hiding spots for the piece of plastic. He started to feel warm at the thought. Touching her breast had killed his focus. Now all he could think about was how good she felt. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the image of Lacy naked. So not the time.

  “We should make a plan,” Lacy stated and then promptly fell into him as the truck took a sharp turn.

  Logan grimaced in pain. He would normally welcome the chance to have her lean on him, but it hurt too much at the moment. He gently used his shoulder to help push her upright again. “Hard to make a plan when we have no clue where we are going or what Scar wants.”

  “You have a better idea?” she asked in a sarcastic tone.

  “Let’s just see what happens when we get to wherever it is we’re going. We don’t have a lot to work with at the moment. We need a better advantage than what we’ve got.”

  “You think we’ll be OK once we get to wherever they’re bringing us?” she scoffed.

  “No. But we don’t have a choice. We’ve got nothing to work with but one piece of plastic. I’m a little sore and you…” He paused. “Did your father teach you anything about being in situations like this? You said something similar happened before.”

  “Not similar exactly. Someone made a grab for me, but he wasn’t a professional and he bungled it. I ended up breaking his nose and several of his toes.”

  “Nice.”

  “Hey, it worked. My father taught me to pay attention and always be prepared.”

  “Great. You’re a boy scout. Not exactly helpful.” Logan knew his tone was bitter but he couldn’t help it. The pain was getting to him.

  “Who found the plastic?” she asked in a biting tone. “It may not be much, but it’s more than you’ve got.”

  “Touché.” He hated th
at a hint of annoyance had crept into his voice. Not that he was annoyed at her, just annoyed she was right. He didn’t have anything that could help. The darkness was making him slightly claustrophobic. He tried to figure out their next move.

  He had no idea of how they were going to get out of this mess. Certainly not the best situation to be in as the head of a security company. If word got out, this little incident could be very damaging. They were walking a fine line as it was. His brother Mitch’s foray into personal security had already dented their reputation. Although, truth be told, it wasn’t really his fault. Still, if this situation became public, he and his brothers were done for in the security business. It wasn’t helping his ego any either.

  The noise of the truck engine changed. They were slowing down. It was a good thing because the smell of the truck and the swaying in the darkness was making him nauseous. Last thing he needed was to puke his guts out.

  The truck turned to the right and then rolled to a halt. Logan heard Lacy’s quick intake of breath. He reached out blindly and managed to put a hand on her leg to comfort her. He didn’t need a hysterical woman on his hands. But he grudgingly admitted she’d handled herself well so far. Except for almost getting him killed, of course. Still, all in all, not bad.

  The sound of the cab door closing clattered through their little space, and voices faded in and out. Then the back of the truck opened. Logan blinked in the sudden light. They were parked next to a shed with security lighting in some sort of boat yard. The bald guy and the guy with all the hair were at the back of the truck, waving them out with guns.

  Logan struggled to his feet and turned to help Lacy, but she was already standing. They both walked to the back of the truck and looked down. They were a few feet off the ground. Baldy waved for them to get out. Logan jumped and had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from yelping. Baldy yelled at Lacy to move faster.

  “She’s in a dress and heels,” Logan snarled. “She needs help.”

  Baldy just snorted and aimed his gun at the middle of Logan’s chest.

  “It’s fine,” Lacy said as she moved toward the edge of the truck.

  Logan opened his mouth to argue but Lacy had already jumped off the back of the truck and landed on her toes. She stumbled a bit but quickly regained her balance.

  He smiled at her. “Well, damn. That was impressive.”

  “Get moving.” Baldy gestured with his gun for them to move around the side of the truck.

  Logan took in his surroundings. There were boats everywhere, pleasure crafts of varying sizes, many of them being repaired in dry dock. It had to be some sort of marina. To the left, beyond the boats, was darkness and a body of water. A bay maybe? Hard to tell.

  He glanced around for something that he might use as a weapon, but there was nothing close enough.

  Baldy pushed Logan forward and motioned for Lacy to follow. They walked through the boat yard and turned left, heading to the docks. Logan kept an eye on Lacy, making sure she wasn’t about to freak out. Outwardly, she appeared calm, but he had no doubt her heart was pounding in her chest. His certainly was.

  They were marched to the end of one of the docks and ordered to board a yacht. It was a high-end pleasure craft. Not as big as the one the party had been on, but it was over a hundred feet by Logan’s estimate. Something like this would cost big bucks, even if it was a rental.

  Lacy stumbled as she boarded. Logan wanted to reach back and steady her but it was difficult with his hands tied in front of him. Lacy fell onto her knees. He was leaning over trying to help her up when Baldy hit him in the kidneys again. Grunting, he went down beside Lacy. The look she gave him... He wanted to tell her it would be OK, but he had no clue if that was true, and he was having trouble getting his breath. He just gave her what had to be the fakest smile ever.

  “On your feet. Both of you.” Baldy was at their backs, poking him with the barrel of his gun. After they regained their feet, they were led inside the ship to the salon, carpeted with a thick, cushy cream-colored carpet. The whole room was done in shades of cream and brown. The furniture was made of a wood that gleamed in the soft lighting.

  “Welcome to my home away from home.” Scar was standing behind a bar, pouring fifty-year-old Scotch into a glass with ice in it. He had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He appeared like a well-mannered host entertaining guests, not a violent, crazed kidnapper. He gestured to Logan, as if to ask if he wanted one.

  “Sure. A drink might go down nicely right about now.”

  Scar laughed. “I like a man with a sense of humor.” He grinned, reached back and grabbed another glass, put ice in it, and poured in a couple of ounces. At a glance from his boss, Baldy brought it over to Logan.

  “What am I, chopped liver?” Lacy piped up.

  Scar grinned again. “Forgive my manners.” He went through the drink ritual, and soon Lacy was holding her own glass.

  Scar picked up his drink in a toast. “To new friendships. May they be profitable.” He took a swig of the liquor. Neither Logan nor Lacy moved. “What? You both wanted a drink, and now you won’t drink it?” His eyes narrowed. “I hate it when people are rude and disrespectful.” He glanced at Baldy, who immediately took a step toward Logan.

  “The toast didn’t really move me,” Lacy said. “How about we just drink to our health? Seems a bit more apropos.” She took a large gulp of her drink. Logan took a sip of his as well. It was a very smooth Scotch. He was a bit surprised that Lacy hadn’t choked considering the size of that swig.

  Scar apparently felt the same because there was a look of admiration on his face as he nodded and said, “Ms. Carmichael, you do not disappoint. I had heard you were like your mother. Now I see it is true.”

  Lacy swallowed hard before saying, “Thank you. I take that as a great compliment.” Her face tightened, and Logan wondered what that was all about. Who was her mother and what did she have to do with this whole thing?

  “It’s too bad I never had the chance to meet her. From everything I’ve heard, I think I would’ve been a great fan. She is still discussed fondly in certain circles.” Scar walked out from behind the bar and crossed the room to stand in front of Lacy. “It is also sad we had to meet under such circumstances.” He ran a finger down her cheek.

  Anger burned a hole in Logan’s gut. He wanted to reach out and strangle the man, but Lacy was outwardly calm.

  “And what circumstances are those?” she asked. “You have neglected to let us in on what this little game is all about.” She studied Scar without flinching and took another sip of her scotch.

  “It is not a game, I assure you.” He stepped back and went to sit down on the cream-colored leather couch under the main window of the salon.

  The yacht’s engines rumbled to life. Damn. They were definitely pulling away from the dock. He and Lacy rocked a bit on their feet as the engines kicked into a higher gear and the boat surged forward.

  “Ms. Carmichael”—Scar paused, his eyes narrowing—“I can see why you changed your name. Hazel is such an old-fashioned name. And, of course, being a Fontaine would have marked you for sure. Every policeman in Europe would have had you on some list. Hazel Fontaine, the only daughter of Armand Fontaine.”

  Logan’s stomach clenched as if Baldy had hit him again. Armand Fontaine. Son of a bitch.

  Turning to face Logan, he asked, “Did you know her real identity, Mr. Callahan? Did she tell you?” He studied Logan as he waited for his answer.

  Logan tried to remain impassive, but he knew his shock at hearing Fontaine’s name had registered on his face.

  Scar continued, “No. I think she did not. Well, no matter. This is Hazel Fontaine, heiress to one of the greatest arms dealing empires in the world. Her mother would be so proud that Hazel is following in her footsteps. It was her mother that started the empire.”

  She’d said her father was an arms dealer, but he’d pictured a guy with a pickup and a few crates of guns. Armand Fontaine dealt serious ar
ms, like tanks and helicopter-level arms, through back channels. And he sold to the governments of many corrupt countries all around the world. He was the black-market king of military-grade weaponry. Logan closed his eyes and swore a blue streak in his head.

  He had come down here to cross Lacy off the list of suspects involved in trying to steal Drake’s prototype. Sun, fun, and relaxation with a bit of work on the side. Instead, he’d been kidnapped with the daughter of one of the largest arms dealers in the world. Well, fuck.

  From the moment he’d seen Lacy on the yacht in that hot green dress, he’d known he was in trouble. He’d just thought it would be a different kind. It hadn’t occurred to him the next few hours would hold murder, an ambush, and a double kidnapping. She must live one hell of a life.

  Armand Fontaine. Logan flicked through his memory quickly, trying to dig up what he knew of the man. He had once worked a JAG case that had ties to the arms dealer. A couple of low-level clerks stole some RPGs and were selling them on the black market, if he remembered right. One of them had turned up dead. Fontaine’s name had come up on the survivor’s list of people who might have wanted him out of the way, so Logan had done some research on the man. It turned out that Fontaine was so major league these guys weren’t even a pimple on his ass.

  Logan glanced at Lacy. Scar had just confirmed what he had heard. Giselle Fontaine, Lacy’s mother, had been the brains behind the business before she was killed almost twenty-five years ago. Lacy must have been a baby, no more than two or three.

  Armand had been a big-deal importer/exporter, but Giselle was the one who’d started the arms dealing side of their business. Armand had taken over and devoted all his energy toward expansion—after, of course, he’d avenged himself on his wife’s killers.

  There was rumor that he kept their heads in a couple of boxes in his safe and took them out once in a while to deter others from getting the same idea. Quite the family tree. And here he was mixed up in the middle of it.