have figured. One of his criminal buddies? You just made things so much worse for yourself. Assaulting a minor. Kidnapping. Assaulting me.”
In his smooth smirk, she recognized the smile of a con man. “Guess that makes your job that much harder.”
“My job? What are you talking about?” She gestured toward Dylan. “Obviously this has nothing to do with him. Just let the boy go and we can talk about what you want.”
“The boy got himself into this. He came after me when he should have minded his business. Didn’t even have his phone with him. Now he’s my insurance policy. He’s going to stay right where he is until we’re outta here.”
We? Why did this man keep talking as if they were in this together?
“This is absurd. If my dad wanted something why didn’t he just call me?” A possible answer occurred to her. “They’re monitoring his communications. So he sent you.”
“Stop talking like he’s in charge. He’s not.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“Look, I’m not here to hurt you.”
Since he didn’t answer her question directly, she had to figure her father knew. And man, did that sting. Even if this intruder didn’t want to “hurt” her—he’d already done it.
“Why are you here?”
“You gave us no choice. We need more legal help.”
God, it was like being caught in quicksand and never being able to get out. This was the feeling that had driven her to emancipate herself, to go to law school, to change her path. Was it all hopeless? Every step she’d taken in life, erased?
She folded her arms across her chest. “I already told Frank I was done. No more legal help.”
“It’s not for him. He’s all set, not like the rest of us. You’ll get plenty out of the deal. Big bucks. Clients out your ass. I’m first, though.”
“You can’t make me represent you guys. That’s…coercion.”
“That’s real life. You don’t have a choice.” He indicated Dylan with his gun again.
He wouldn’t really hurt Dylan, would he? Frank wouldn’t do something like that, but she didn’t know this guy. She couldn’t take a chance.
She quickly ran through her options. No weapon. Dylan in danger. Her only advantage seemed to be that this man needed her alive. Needed her legal skills.
“What’s your name?” she asked him. “If I’m going to represent you, I’ll need that info.”
“Steve.”
Steve. It seemed like such an innocuous name for a hostage-taking criminal.
“Okay, Steve. Speaking as your potential lawyer, you need to let this boy go. You made a big mistake grabbing him. Everyone’s looking for him. The entire town of Lost Harbor is searching. His father is pacing the driveway out there, worried out of his mind. Did you know his father is the fire chief?”
“I know, I know,” Steve grumbled. “He told me. He wasn’t part of the plan, but now he is.”
“This so-called plan of yours, walk me through it?”
The word “so-called” made him give her the side-eye. “We’re going to leave together and you’re going to tell everyone your father is sick and needs you. As soon as we’re on a plane back to civilization, you’re going to call someone and tell them about this kid.”
“They’ll arrest you at the airport.”
“At least I’ll have my lawyer with me.” He offered that obnoxious con-man smirk again. “Take this.” He slid a dollar bill into her pocket. The contact made her skin crawl. “Can’t tell on me now, can you? Client privilege.”
Kate grimaced in disgust as the dollar bill crinkled in her pocket. “Did you see that on some TV show?”
“You trying to insult my intelligence?”
“The last time I saw you, you were wearing a bell boy uniform, so excuse me if I’m not sold on your scheme here.”
Fury twisted his face and for a terrifying moment she thought she’d gone too far. He still had a gun. He could still hurt Dylan. Or herself.
“But you got lucky,” she said quickly. “I’m actually Dylan’s lawyer too. We can work out a deal with him so he doesn’t file charges. Right, Dylan?”
From his spot on the rug, Dylan nodded his head. Steve walked toward him and stood over his prone body, his back to the sliding door that led to the deck with its spectacular view of Misty Bay. The bright sun blazed through the glass, making her blink.
And then something caught her eye. A figure rose slowly into view from below.
Darius. Crouched in some kind of big bucket at the end of a crane—like the kind on a fire engine.