Fiancé by Friday
Page 60They ducked under the wind created by the blades of the helicopter. Billy and Rick hoisted Linden’s dead weight to the men on board the chopper. On board they pulled Mickey, who was limping but carrying himself, in with them.
Mac twisted toward the fireball they’d just left. His ears rang from the blast that took out his men. His back and head took a blow with his fall but he was otherwise OK. Alive.
Rick pulled him into the chopper and they were instantly airborne.
Mouths were moving but Neil couldn’t hear what they said. Only ringing and the hum of the chopper. His chest ached and he coughed for what felt like an hour.
Billy knelt on the floor beside Linden while the two men Neil didn’t know cut away Linden’s clothes and exposed the blast wound in his gut and thigh. Blood was everywhere.
Neil grabbed the army blanket someone had draped over him and shoved it in Linden’s side.
“Don’t you f**king die.”
But the color in Linden’s face had gone stone white and before they could apply a field dressing his eyes lost focus and he took his last breath.
The chopper listed, and Neil had to hold on or risk falling.
The silence in his ears made his eyes focus.
Billy hung his head beside Linden. Rick’s expression was equal parts rage and remorse. Mickey was doubled over.
Neil managed to get to Mickey’s side and met the man’s eyes. Neil lifted his hands in question and Mickey shook his head.
That’s when Neil saw the shard of wood sticking from Mickey’s groin. The bleeding was minimal, and they knew to keep the object in place until medical could see where it landed. He shook his head toward Mickey as if to remind him not to tug out the wood. Mickey was known to act against reason on occasion. Didn’t seem he had the desire to do so now.
Neil slumped on the side of the chopper and hacked up a lung.
Blake had his secretary arrange his ride to the airport in the morning. He was headed to Colorado himself to trace Neil’s steps. Everything had been too quiet for his taste and not hearing from his bodyguard or his sister weighed on him.
Blake just hoped that Neil and Gwen had come to their senses and weren’t running around with guns cocked and loaded.
He pulled off his tie and reached for the phone, intending to give Sam her nightly call.
The phone rang under his fingers, and made him jump.
Get a grip, Blake.
“Hello?” he answered when he didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID.
“Mr. Harrison?”
Blake tossed his tie to the side of the bed and sat. “This is.”
“I’m sorry to call you so late, Mr. Harrison. Even more sorry for why I’m calling.”
Blake stopped midway through toeing off his shoes.
“Who is this?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. This is Bernard, the manager over here at First Class Services.”
“The car service?”
“Right. Right. That’s us.”
Blake’s anxiety dropped and his shoes fell to the floor one at a time. “What can I do for you, Bernard?” And why was he calling him now?
“Is there a problem with tomorrow?”
“No, not at all, sir. We’ll have a car ready for you.”
Blake pinched one button after the other on his shirt and then moved to the cuff links. “Then why are you calling?”
Bernard was breathing a little fast, obviously worked up over something. Blake wanted to tell him that whatever his worries were, they had nothing on his. Instead, he just waited while the man started to apologize.
“I’m sorry. We here at First Class Services are so very sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I checked to see who your driver was earlier in the week. We try to keep them consistent whenever possible. As you know, we take great pride in the privacy of our customers. And you are a very valued customer—”
Blake rolled his eyes. “Bernard, can you please cut the crap and tell me why you’ve called? I have a busy day tomorrow.” And at this rate, he’d still be on the phone with the poor sap.
“Sorry. Right. You see, the driver who picked you up. We don’t know who he is.”
“What do you mean you don’t know who he is?”
“We received the request and a car went out earlier in the week…but none of our men were behind the wheel.”
Blake stopped undressing. “Well someone sure as hell picked me up.”
“Right. But it wasn’t our man.”
“He said he was from your service.”
“If he wasn’t one of your men, then who was he?”
“We don’t know. Your privacy is paramount to us. We have the police coming here now to view the tapes. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you. For that I’m very sorry.”
“How the hell did this happen?” More deals were made in the backs of limousines than boardrooms.
“I’d suggest you consider who you were talking with and what about on the way home. Perhaps there was someone in need of the information you relayed on that short trip?”
He and Dean had to talk in the car because Neil suggested the house was bugged.
“Oh, damn.”
“We’re gravely sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah…I’ll be there with Detective Brown in an hour. I want to see those tapes.”
“Of course, sir. Anything we can do.”
Blake shoved his feet back in his shoes and made a call to Dean.
Forty-five minutes later, they were sitting in the offices of First Class Services with a nervous Bernard and a half dozen uniformed officers.
Blake listened to the story of how a complete stranger made his way onto the property, managed to get the keys to a company car, and then proceeded to leave said parking lot to pick him up at the airport without being detected.
“It had been an exceptionally busy weekend. Several of our drivers were still out from the night before. It’s not unheard of for us to move drivers around from one lot to another.” Bernard rambled on about the company and how it was run. According to the sister service in Orange County and the one in San Diego, none of their drivers had been given the green light to take assignments in the LA area on the date in question, therefore ruling out a driver on their staff.