Covert Makeover Read online

  “So, Mr. Majors, what can Weddings Your Way do for you?”

  “I need copies of all your surveillance tapes from the day of the kidnapping. I’d like to interview everyone Sonya spoke with that day. I want to review all the statements from all your employees.”

  “The police have all that.”

  He waited.

  “All right. Ms. Brennan has copies of everything.” Sophie picked up the phone and dialed Samantha’s extension. “Samantha, have you got an extra set of copies of everything related to the Botero case—to Sonya’s kidnapping?”

  “Everything?” Samantha’s amused voice said in her ear. “I caught a glimpse of Botero’s gorgeous security chief. Lucky you, in charge today. You surely don’t mean he’s sweet-talked you into giving him everything?”

  Sophie gripped the phone more tightly and avoided the gorgeous security chief’s gaze as her face grew warm. “All the information we provided to the police,” she said evenly. She’d never quite picked up the knack the close-knit team had of kidding around, especially in the middle of a serious situation. Her background hadn’t been conducive to gentle teasing.

  “Ah, okay. Give me twenty minutes. So the unflappable Sophie Brooks didn’t fall under the handsome prince’s spell.”

  “No, of course not. Nothing like that.” She disconnected, feeling her cheeks turn warm. Silently and fluently, she cursed Samantha for teasing her.

  She gave Sean a stiff smile. “We can have that information for you in about twenty minutes. In the meantime, if you’d like, you can talk to our receptionist about arranging to speak with the employees who were here that morning. Or would you prefer to see our chief of security, Rafe Montoya? He’s not here right now.” He’d gone with Rachel to see the commissioner. “He should be back this afternoon.”

  Sean glanced at his watch again.

  He didn’t have much time. Sophie couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to know about the note.

  “The kidnappers gave you a deadline, didn’t they? When is the drop? What did the note say? How was it delivered?” Sophie stopped as Majors’s brows drew together in a frown and his gaze sharpened.

  She backpedaled. “I mean, is Sonya safe? Did the note say anything about her?” She sat back and forced herself to calm down. Sean Majors had no idea she was a former CIA agent. Her job, and her biggest challenge, was to stay in character. As far as Sean Majors was concerned, she was an employee of Weddings Your Way. Nothing more.

  Sean didn’t speak.

  “Mr. Majors, I assure you that I am authorized to act in full capacity in Ms. Brennan’s absence. If you like, I could give her your cell phone number so you can verify it with her.”

  His face smoothed out a bit as he shook his head. “There was no specific mention of Sonya. But they gave instructions about the money, and said they’d be in touch very soon.”

  “May I see the note?” She looked at his pocket.

  As he pulled out the plastic bag and laid it in front of her, she was momentarily distracted by his hands. They were large and tanned, with long, well-shaped fingers. Good hands. Competent hands.

  She forced her attention on to the note, reading it quickly. “Two hours!”

  “Right. Not much time. We’re going to have to be ready to move.”

  She held the note up to the light, drawing a curious glance from him. “No watermark,” she commented, then gave a small false shrug. “I’m a graphic designer. Mr. Majors, may we keep this?”

  “What reason could you possibly have to want the note?”

  “Ms. Brennan will want to see it,” Sophie said quickly. “She feels responsible for Sonya Botero’s kidnapping. Maybe a copy?”

  Majors sent her a suspicious glance. “How can I be assured it won’t end up in the hands of the police?”

  “As I said, I can have Ms. Brennan speak to you personally.”

  He shook his head. “One copy, without removing it from the plastic bag.”

  “Of course. I’ll do it myself if you’d like to observe.”

  He stood, adjusting his cuffs, and picked up the note. He was not going to let it out of his sight for an instant.

  Sophie stood as well. “Follow me.” She walked quickly up the stairs, her high heels clicking on the marble. Majors walked slightly behind her and she imagined his gaze burning into her back, her behind, her legs. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Disturbing. And yet slightly arousing. Suppressing the urge to slow down and force him into step beside her, she sped up, reaching the second floor and heading straight for the copy machine.

  As he watched her like a hawk, she made one photocopy. He reached around her and cleared the machine, then inspected the copy.

  “Your confidence in us is underwhelming.”

  He didn’t look up. “This is my boss’s only daughter. My loyalty is to him.”

  “True. I apologize.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her words, just handed her the photocopy and retrieved the original note, tucking it back in his inside jacket pocket. Then he stepped aside to let her precede him down the stairs.

  Sophie faced him at the bottom. “Where do you think they’ll want to meet for the drop?”

  “Who knows. They don’t seem to be concerned about being seen in daylight, but they’ll want an open space.”

  “Do it here.”

  Sean lifted his chin slightly, staring at her as if she’d just confessed.

  She’d come on too strong. But she was getting the definite impression he wanted to handle this alone. And she couldn’t let that happen. Sonya Botero had been kidnapped right under the nose of Rachel Brennan’s Miami Confidential team. Rachel was absolutely determined to get Sonya back, and Sophie and the rest of the team felt the same way. It had happened on their watch. It was their responsibility.

  “It’s the perfect place,” she said quickly. “Sonya was kidnapped here. That means the kidnappers know the area intimately. We can arrange the drop in the circular drive out front. Cancel all appointments for the time frame to ensure that no one is around. It’s relatively isolated, yet out in the open. It would make sense.”

  Sean cocked one brow. “You seem to have all the bases covered. Have you been thinking about this a lot?”

  His remark gave her pause. Actually, the thought of using Weddings Your Way for the ransom drop had just occurred to her. “I watch a lot of TV. But it does make sense, doesn’t it?”

  “Assuming the kidnappers are generous enough to let us make that decision, which I doubt will happen. Isn’t this Montoya’s territory?”

  “Yes, but he and Ms. Brennan are out all morning. That means it could be hours before you could talk with them about arrangements. That’s time wasted.”

  “Who do you suggest to make the drop?”

  Sophie took a deep breath. “Me. I work here. I’m sure the kidnappers know all the employees of Weddings Your Way. They would have cased us pretty thoroughly before they planned the kidnapping.”

  “Cased you?”

  “Sorry.” Sophie smoothed her skirt and looked down. “Like I said, I guess I watch too many cop shows.”

  “You think?”

  She frowned at his sarcastic remark and the storm clouds still darkening his eyes. She challenged him. “You think I can’t handle it.”

  “I’m sure you can. All you’d have to do is walk a few steps and set down a suitcase. My question is why do you want to?”

  His voice was harsh, suspicious. He obviously suspected that she had an ulterior motive. Surely he didn’t think she was in on the kidnapping?

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. That as a Miami Confidential agent, she had an obligation to make sure no one else was hurt. If anything happened during the drop, her CIA training ensured that she’d be prepared. She knew how to take care of herself.

  Sean crossed his arms, waiting for her answer.

  Smiling slyly, she leaned forward again, making sure her shirt gaped artfully. She was rewarded when his gaze flickered downward.

/>   “I love the danger. It’s a turn-on.”

  Chapter Two

  It’s a turn-on.

  For an instant, her words hung between them. Neither of them moved.

  Then Sean Majors’s eyes darkened and his knuckles whitened against the dark gray of his jacket.

  Sophie took a deep breath, willing her face not to express the embarrassment she felt. Her ploy hadn’t worked. She never should have tried flirting. Lord knew, she was no good at it.

  He uncrossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his jacket as he took a step backward. The set of his strong straight mouth telegraphed his disapproval of her and her suggestion.

  She hated this posturing. Hated the idea that she had to resort to such tactics to keep Weddings Your Way’s true identity a secret. But she’d started it and now she had to finish. She had to ensure that Confidential was involved in the ransom drop.

  “You must feel the same way.” She stepped forward, letting her gaze drift down to his chest, where a shoulder holster strap showed beneath his jacket. She ran the tip of one fingernail along the edge of the strap, then she met his gaze again and smiled.

  “Why else would you be in a job where you carry a gun?”

  Sean’s mouth compressed into a thin line and his eyes turned black. “My job is to protect. It doesn’t turn me on.”

  His tone chilled her. Still, at least she’d accomplished her purpose. He thought she was a bimbo who had no better sense than to think dealing with kidnappers was a chance for excitement.

  Cringing at the censure and contempt in his gaze, Sophie desperately hung on to her false smile.

  He buttoned his coat. He was done here.

  “All right, Ms. Brooks,” he said finally. “Your idea is actually not too bad. It’s simple and yet unexpected. So if the kidnappers and Montoya agree, you can have your excitement. But don’t forget for one moment that this is deadly serious. One wrong move and you could be killed.”

  He paused, but she didn’t take the bait. She just nodded.

  “Remember, we have to be ready within two hours. When the kidnappers contact us again, I’ll let Ms. Brennan know immediately.”

  Sophie didn’t realize she’d wiped her palms down her sides until his gaze slid along the buttons of her white silk blouse, over the snug waistband of her skirt, down to the hem and farther. His frown stayed in place, and his entire body exuded disapproval.

  She swallowed, suffering his assessment. Probably wondering how fast she could run if something went wrong with the ransom drop.

  “Tell Rachel Brennan to call me.”

  “Of course. Does she have your number?”

  He flipped out a card.

  Sophie took it.

  He nodded and turned toward the door.

  She felt a little dirty, and it surprised her how much it bothered her that he actually believed she’d participate in a ransom drop for kicks.

  As she watched him walk away, his grace and self-assurance obvious in his sleek movements, she reviewed his change in attitude toward her. He’d started out neutral, with a little bit of masculine appreciation for her appearance. Now though, he apparently thought she was lower than pond scum.

  Odd that it mattered so much what he thought. She didn’t even know him.

  As she sat back down at her desk, she looked at her notepad. She’d sketched him.

  Had he seen it? The sketch was small, but accurate. She turned on her desk lamp to look at it more closely. She’d caught the storms that had gathered in his eyes when he’d spoken of his failed marriage. Looking at the sketch, she noticed there was a subtle difference in how he’d looked then and how he’d looked when she’d been pretending to be a bimbo.

  The eyes in her sketch looked sad. Before he left, the sadness had been replaced by distaste.

  She held the sketch closer to the light, studying the hint of sadness she’d caught. Did he still love his wife?

  Shaking off the question, which was none of her business, she picked up her phone to tell Vicki to cooperate with him in arranging meetings with the staff.

  Then she tried to go back to work on her latest assignment, but her curiosity got the better of her. She accessed the archived designs on her laptop. There it was. The Majors/DuVall wedding. Their snow-white invitation had featured two gold-embossed hearts linked together.

  She glanced across the salon at him as he spoke with Vicki, then back at her notepad. Pen in hand, she drew two identical hearts, one broken. She swallowed and scratched out the image.

  At least that would never happen to her. Not again.

  IN A PRIVATE office in an expensive villa overlooking the capital of Ladera, seven men sat around a polished wood table. Three of them smoked cigars. Each of them had a cup of steaming black coffee close at hand.

  When the eighth man walked into the room and sat at the head of the table, the other seven sat up straighter. The tall, white-haired man nodded at the servant pouring his coffee.

  The servant quickly bowed and exited the room.

  “You know why we are here,” he addressed the other men.

  A rotund middle-aged man lifted a finger. “Is it true that DeLeon’s kidnapped fiancée has been traced to Ladera?”

  “There are rumors. Someone in the Miami area is investigating her whereabouts.”

  “And doing a good job of it,” another man commented.

  The white-haired man pinned him with a dark glance. “Yes. I have it on good authority that the police are staying out of this investigation, nor have federal officials been called in. But that could happen at any moment.”

  “Who is the contact?”

  “That is not your concern. You should be squashing interest in DeLeon’s antidrug bills by whatever means necessary while he is preoccupied with the search for his missing fiancée. The Laderan people are counting on the legislature to keep their livelihood from being taken away from them because of DeLeon’s crusade. We must continue to paint him as a fanatic, only interested in revenge for his ex-wife’s mental illness caused by illegal drugs.”

  “Juan DeLeon is very popular.”

  The man sighed and sipped his coffee. “Exactly. That is why I took the chance of bringing you all here at this time. You are my most trusted allies. Before you leave, I need to make sure that each of you understands your role within the next days. DeLeon has several senators poised to demand an immediate vote on two bills, the first to oust legislators found guilty of corruption, and the second to impose term limits.”

  There was a hushed muttering around the table.

  “I expect to hear shortly of a development in Sonya Botero’s kidnapping. We must ensure that the votes are timed to coincide. We can’t take the chance that DeLeon will return before the vote is taken. Several of DeLeon’s allies have vulnerabilities that we can use to our advantage. This is where you come in. Hector, let’s start with you. Here’s what you must do….”

  SEAN SPENT the rest of the morning grilling the employees at Weddings Your Way, including Sophie Brooks. He left with little more information than he’d come with. Then he drove by the hospital to check on Craig Johnson.

  He spoke with him briefly, but the young man seemed too medicated to respond much. Sean was suspicious, but the nurses confirmed that he’d been agitated earlier and the doctor on call had ordered a sedative.

  Sean spoke briefly with Johnson’s physician by phone and let him know that he had to speak with Johnson the next day. The physician hired and paid for by Carlos Botero assured Sean that Johnson would be alert the next day.

  Sean headed back to his office at the Botero estate and studied the police reports and went over the security tapes. Just as he suspected, he found nothing he hadn’t already seen or heard from the police.

  By the time he’d finished, it was after six o’clock and there had been no word from the kidnappers. Michaela would be waiting for him. He picked up the intercom phone.

  “Javier, a phone call may come in from the kidnappers. I
f so, let Mr. Botero speak to them, but you patch me through immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thanks. Let me speak to Mr. Botero.” After a brief pause, Carlos’s voice spoke weakly into the phone. “Mr. Botero, do you need me this evening?”

  “No, no. Javier will be here, as will Cook. You go on home.”

  “Thank you, sir. If anyone contacts you, Javier has instructions to patch me through, although I doubt we’ll hear from them tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  By the time he got to his apartment off old Route One, it was almost seven. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt as he rode up in the elevator from the parking garage. He unlocked the door and stepped into his brightly lit living room.

  He’d barely had time to shrug out of his jacket and toss it onto a chair before Michaela came running in.

  “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! You’re late!”

  The blond curls and the wide grin of his precious daughter greeted him like a burst of sunshine after a gloomy day. He dropped to his haunches and held out his arms.

  “Hi, sprout. What have you been doing today?”

  Michaela giggled as she threw herself against him. “Me and Rosita are making tea cakes. See?” She held up her hands. She was covered in flour and cookie dough.

  “Michaela, what did I tell you?” Rosita bustled into the room. “You go and wash your hands right now.”

  Michaela pushed away and looked at him solemnly. “I got to wash my hands, Daddy. So I don’t get your suit all dirty.”

  He nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

  She ran out of the room.

  “Too late, but a good idea.” He chuckled as he pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. “Rosita, send these to be cleaned tomorrow, will you? I apologize for being late.”

  “Mr. Sean, you get into your room before you take off anything else. It is not proper for you to unclothe in front of a woman of my age.”

  Sean laughed and tossed his shirt and tie to her. “Right. Like you didn’t powder my bottom when I was a baby.” He headed toward the master bedroom, which was separated from Michaela’s room by the kitchen and dining room area. At the door, he turned.