"Yes, I am, and I'm going to be late. Can I help you?"
"I sure hope so,” the woman said. “I need to meet with you. Immediately."
"Who is this?
"I've got some tax information you might be interested in."
Herbert froze. “Excuse me?"
"I know about your taxes, Herbie. I know everything. I assume you want to talk to me in private, but I can be at your house in five minutes, if you like. I'm sure your wife would love to hear what I've got to say."
Herbert felt a combined wash of rage and terror. “Did Kirkland send you?"
"Does it really matter?"
Herbert's heart raced with fear of discovery. Angie looked at him quizzically. “No, no that's quite all right,” he said into the phone. “Where did you have in mind?"
"Pioneer Park. You know where it is?"
"Yes, I know."
"Ten minutes. I'm Ms. Smith. Look for the gray van."
The phone clicked as the woman disconnected. Herbert slowly set the phone down, fear dripping into his soul.
The shrill ringing of the phone brought Sonny out of his semiconscious state. While his body remained exhausted from a night of amorous adventure with the exquisitely talented Chloe, his mind popped instantly alert, ready for the day.
"Yes?"
"Mr. McGuiness?"
"Who is this?” Sonny said, instantly suspicious. He'd told only one person — Herbert Darker — where he was staying.
"Mr. McGuiness, my name is Connell Kirkland. I represent a company that would like to talk to you about your find."
Connell “Cutthroat” Kirkland of EarthCore. Anybody who knew anything about the mining world knew that name. Kirkland's rep preceded him; he was a man not to be trifled with.
"I'm flying into town and I hoped we could meet for dinner,” Connell said.
Sonny felt anger well up inside him like a rocket warming up for launch. The only find he'd had in over two months was the Wah Wah site, and he'd only discovered that two days earlier. Only Herbert Darker knew about that find. Had Herbert sold him out? Sonny's first urge was to hang up, but he needed to know the extent of the possible betrayal. He also needed to know what information this Kirkland character held. Besides, EarthCore had deep pockets. Whatever Kirkland offered, it would probably prove a good starting-off point for open negotiations with other companies.
"Augustino's,” Sonny said. “Make the reservations for eight p.m. Ask for Sonny McGuiness's table. Don't be late.” He started to get up, preparing to go out to Darker's and find out what the hell was up. As he rose, a hand with long fingernails lightly scraped his back. He turned to see Chloe smiling up at him, her caramel skin beautiful against the white sheets, her lush lips slightly parted, her black eyes glinting with sex.
Sonny's anger dissipated, replaced by morning lust. He had all day, after all — Herbert wasn't going anywhere.
Kayla sat and waited. She'd parked the gray, nondescript rental van under a struggling elm tree just outside a typical suburban park. She checked her makeup in the van's rearview mirror. She still looked damn good, if she did say so herself, even though the only sleep she'd had was a brief catnap on the flight out from D.C. The bags under her eyes showed through the makeup, but only slightly.
Sonny McGuiness might have nothing to hide, but Herbert Darker had a closet full of financial skeletons. He'd pulled in $210,000 from Connell, one rat-out at a time. If the IRS found out about that unreported sum, Herbert would be looking at a decade in prison at least. If she was going to come up with something on McGuiness, she'd have to fabricate it. Darker was the only person who could help on such short notice.
Herbert pulled up to the curb in his Cadillac. As he got out, Kayla evaluated him; five-foot-five, maybe one hundred and fifty pounds, all the muscle of a Dachau victim. No visible weapons, poor coordination. An easy mark.
She opened the van's sliding side door and stepped out. The three-inch heels on her black pumps slid into the grass, but only a little. She saw Herbert's eyes widen. She couldn't blame him, as she'd dressed to elicit just such a reaction. Her loose cotton skirt barely hung below her ass, showing off strong legs. The pumps only added to her five-foot, ten-inch frame. Her long, straight blond hair draped loosely around her face and shoulders, framing emerald eyes and a sultry smile. A halter top showed plenty of deeply bronzed skin as well as toned arms, shoulders, and a smooth six-pack of abs. She flashed Herbert a practiced smile and waved him forward. She saw his guard instantly drop. He was still angry, but like a typical man, most of his fear subsided when he laid eyes on a sexy woman. He was a man, after all. And men weren't afraid of beautiful women.
He eyed her with a suspicious glare. “I have a message for Kirkland. You tell that asshole he crossed the line when you called my home."
Kayla flashed a look across the park. The only kids present were at least fifty yards away, occupied with the sandbox, paying no attention to the van or the adults beside it. Kayla still smiled at Herbert, then reached back into the van. She pulled out a Taser. Herbert's eyes widened slightly, but before he had time to run or call out in surprise, ten thousand volts coursed through his body. Kayla watched Herbert's body shudder and jerk from the electricity.
She cut the power and he fell forward. With practiced ease, she caught him on the way down and flipped his short, light body over her shoulder. She effortlessly tossed him into the van. Jumping in after him and slamming the door, she quickly rolled him on his stomach, then tied his hands and feet behind his back with thin copper wire. Herbert moaned softly, incoherently, as Kayla buckled a ball-gag's leather straps around the back of his head.
She slid into the driver's seat and gunned the engine, smoothly pulling out of the park and down the street. The kids never looked up from their summer play. Someone in the neighborhood might have seen, but Kayla wouldn't keep ol’ Herb long. She zipped through the songs on her iPod — Cindi Lauper would do nicely for the drive. Kayla tapped the steering wheel in time to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."
Herbert regained consciousness and started mumbling. The words seemed incomprehensible through the ball-gag, but Kayla had done this before — she had heard such words more times than she could remember.
"You want to know where I'm taking you, sunshine?” Kayla asked, flashing a seductive smile over her shoulder. “Somewhere we can be alone. Gotta ask you a few questions."
Fear flashed on Herbert's face. Fear and incredulousness. Just like a man — take away control of any situation, and they crumble like little boys.
While she didn't know Salt Lake City, she'd scouted the area before setting up the meeting with Herbie. A vacant factory sat less than two minute's drive from the park. She pulled into the empty, weed-choked parking lot and drove behind the building, out of sight from the main road. It wasn't a great hiding place, but she only planned on a fifteen-minute encounter.
She killed the engine. It was time to get to work. Cindy Lauper wouldn't do, she need some theme music, something a little more… rocking. The thumbed the iPod's click-wheel until the display read “The Donnas — Take Me to the Backseat."
Kayla grabbed her purse and slid around to Herbert. He lay on his stomach, his hands and feet bound behind him. A little blood trickled from his left wrist where the wire had cut into the skin.
"You and I are going to have a little conversation,” Kayla said, kneeling down in front of Herbert and tenderly stroking his hair. “I need to get some information from you. If you're good, I'll let you go. If you're not, I'll kill you."
Herbert's eyes went wide with fear. He tried to say something, but the red ball of the gag blocked all words. Kayla slid around behind him and straddled his back, resting her crotch on Herbert's small ass.