Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset Page 2

  “Or over it on the ceiling,” Zane laughed before the two of them bumped fists.

  Jace didn’t laugh or offer a fist to bump. He was too busy studying the image on the screen. Bright green eyes flecked with gold that nearly matched golden hair which hung far past her shoulders. A full mouth, a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones. A long, graceful neck.

  His assessment stopped there, as that was where the photo ended. He wasn’t like his brothers—he didn’t assume it was hot, worthy of pinup status.

  But he could imagine.

  “Kara Collins,” Doc announced to the room at large. “Age twenty-four. Daughter of Senator William Collins.”

  “He’s been in the Senate for years, hasn’t he?” Jace asked when the man’s face appeared on-screen. He couldn’t tell one politician from another for the most part—they all had the same phony smile, the same too-white teeth and too-perfect hair, the same suits, the same vapid, smiling families.

  But this guy he remembered. William Collins had a reputation for ending up on the news, fighting one battle after another, going to homeless shelters, soup kitchens, tent cities built beneath overpasses. Even then, it would’ve been easy to dismiss these good deeds as public relations opportunities, but the man backed up his actions with the fights he started on the Senate floor relating to legislature intended to ease the suffering of these people.

  He also had the looks and bearing of a golden boy, one who’d probably had the best things in life handed to him, though Jace knew better than to make those sorts of assumptions just from looking at a man.

  After all, nobody would look at Jace and correctly guess what went on beneath the surface.

  Doc nodded, checking notes he’d taken on a pad. For all his tech, he preferred doing some things the old-fashioned way. “Yes, he’s served five terms and is going for a sixth in the upcoming election. His approval rating is one of the highest among the entire Senate body, and reelection seems guaranteed.”

  “What happened to the girl?” Logan asked, steering the conversation back to its original intent. He was good at that. He had to be.

  “Right. At approximately twenty-one hundred hours, an envelope was dropped at the front gate of the family’s summer home in East Hampton. The gate is covered by security cameras. All they picked up was a black SUV—no plates. The passenger window opened just wide enough for the envelope to slide out and onto the ground. The driver barely came to a rolling stop—tinted windows, the works.”

  “Naturally,” Logan growled.

  “The Senator is understandably frantic. He wants security upgraded and round-the-clock protection for his daughter.”

  “What was in the envelope?” Sledge asked, pulling off what was left of his blood-soaked tee. It was the first time he’d spoken—he hadn’t even commented on the gorgeous Kara Collins. Jace suspected that while his body took no time to heal, he needed a bit more time coming around in other areas. He normally got quiet and reflective after a close call, even if it wasn’t really close.

  Maybe he was thinking about how it wouldn’t have turned out the same way if he was human.

  Doc shook his head. “We don’t know yet, only that it amounted to a death threat against Kara.”

  Logan turned to Val, who stood just on the outside of the group as she normally did, waiting to be told what to do. There was something to be said for hanging back rather than inserting oneself into a situation and wasting the time of everyone around.

  At the touch of his gaze, she seemed to come to life. Her spine straightened. Her eyes lit up like a computer waking up after being in a sleep state.

  It was unfair to think of her that way, and guilt touched the corner of Jace’s mind the moment the thought passed through. She was a genius, her IQ practically off the charts, and nobody on the team could touch her when it came to research.

  “I need a list of—” Logan began.

  There was no need. “Potential enemies. Groups he may have pissed off in the past. Top political rivals,” said Val.

  “Doesn’t his wife come from one of those old money families?” Zane asked. “They were into publishing, weren’t they?”

  Doc grinned. It was a ghost of a grin, empty. “Yes, Mrs. Collins is from a publishing family. Her great-grandfather started in mining back in the 1800s, then parlayed some of his wealth into the purchase of several newspapers. His son extended that empire, and while many of the family’s holdings were later sold off thanks to the advent of digital publishing and the lessened interest in print, they are still quite well-off.”

  “I’ll get on top of them, too,” Val nodded. This was a cakewalk for her. They always began new cases this way.

  And as usual, Logan clapped his hands while standing in the center of the group. “All right. Five minutes to clean yourselves up before we roll.”

  Doc cleared his throat, holding up a hand to stop their progress as they scrambled to pull fresh shirts over their heads and wash off whatever blood remained. “There’s just one problem.”

  “You mean aside from the death threat?” Braxton snickered. Jace snorted, jerking his chin upward in acknowledgment of a joke that wasn’t really a joke.

  Doc nodded, grim. He wasn’t exactly the type who enjoyed joking around. If he’d ever had a sense of humor, he’d lost it along with part of his right leg. “Yes, aside from that. The girl is nowhere to be found.”

  The team exchanged looks ranging from amazement to resigned acceptance. That was Doc all over, waiting until the end to deliver the most important piece of information.

  “Do you think maybe you could have told us that sooner?” Logan asked. “You could have briefed us while we were on the way.”

  Doc followed them as they started to move from the command center. “Sources tell me the girl often escapes her security detail. This is not exactly unusual for her.”

  “Some security,” Jace grumbled. The girl had another thing coming if she thought she could so easily escape the members of his team.

  Logan, Braxton, and Sledge took the first truck, while Jace drove with Zane as his passenger. He slid behind the wheel, plugging the address of the Collins home into the GPS.

  “I always did like driving around the Hamptons,” Zane snickered. “Seeing how the other half lives.”

  Jace only grunted in response. He had no desire to see how the other half lived and even less to spend time with them in their rarefied air.

  That was what the job demanded, though. The hefty price tag that accompanied their services meant their clients were more often than not well-off. It came with the territory.

  Just like spoiled, demanding little rich girls came with the territory.

  And there he had been, thinking he could spend a quiet evening at home once they rescued Trinity.

  Chapter Two

  “Give us a rundown.” Logan’s voice echoed through the truck’s speakers as both vehicles traveled down I-95 where they’d hook up with I-78 and cross through the city on their way to Long Island. Traffic was tight pretty much no matter the time of day or night.

  Val was at the ready, having already completed more research in the past twenty minutes than some would be able to compile in hours. “William Collins. Age fifty-eight. Wife, Laura, age fifty-four. William was born and raised in Brooklyn, working-class, got a full ride to Yale after graduating valedictorian and stayed there through law school. Married in 1989. Twin daughters born six years later after several miscarriages.”

  She knew how to do her work, for sure.

  “Wait. Twins? We only heard about Kara. Where’s the other one?” Logan asked.

  “Krista Collins died in a car accident when she was four years old.”

  Silence. Even Logan had nothing to say about that.

  “What happened?” Jace asked after the moment of discomfort passed.

  “The car was driven by William. No evidence of his being under the influence or using excessive speed before the car ran off the road. While a set of skid marks which couldn�
��t have possibly been made by his car were visible on the road, he swore there was no other car involved. His report was of a deer that ran into the road. His avoidance of the animal caused him to lose control of the car.”

  “Why couldn’t the marks have been made by his car?” That was Zane, always trying to analyze things.

  “They came from the other direction, as if a car cut him off while traveling toward him.”

  “Cover-up?” Sledge said.

  “No further insight into that, sorry, but the child died. That much we know. William walked away with a broken arm and a few cracked ribs.”

  “That must’ve been hard on the family,” Jace mused, eyes on the road. Funny how hearing of a car accident caused a driver to be more alert.

  “Laura basically went underground for a year after that, and she took Kara with her. They lived with her family in California. Call it coincidence, but she came back around the time William was beginning his first Senate run.”

  “Gotta keep things looking good for the voters,” Zane snickered.

  “Exactly. That’s how it looks here.”

  “What about Kara?” Logan asked. “What’s her story?”

  “Twenty-four. Graduate of Yale, like Dad.”

  “Major?”

  “Pre-law. But no law school. She stopped with her bachelor’s degree. Since then, she’s floated around. A few odd jobs. It looks like for the most part she’s lived on the proceeds of the trust fund set up by her mother.”

  “How much are we talking here?” Jace asked, his hands tightening around the wheel.

  “In the area of fifty million.”

  “Holy hell,” Zane muttered, while at least one of the passenger’s in Logan’s truck whistled.

  Fifty million dollars just for being born. If Jace wasn’t careful, he’d tear the wheel in two.

  “She was a dancer for a long time, lessons since she was able to walk,” Val continued. “Stopped around the end of high school. Prom queen, president of the student council, editor of the yearbook. A golden girl, in other words. Mom tried to get her into a pageant when she was six, but Kara hated it. Tore her dress off and stormed off stage during the competition.”

  That at least made Jace laugh. She had spirit.

  Spirit which, judging by reports of her slipping past her security detail, hadn’t waned much. She was still a handful. Their handful. Weren’t they lucky?

  “They never tried for another kid?” Logan asked.

  “Twice. Two more miscarriages.” Sadness touched Val’s voice, which was rare. She was normally upbeat, and at the most, she’d sound neutral. This seemed to get to her. “I’d be careful if and when you bring that up.”

  “No need to bring it up. We’re not there to rub salt in the wound, but it’s a look into Laura’s—and William’s—mindset when it comes to their one living child.” Logan sighed. “She’ll be the one they pin all their hopes on.”

  “Making it that much more painful to lose her,” Jace concluded.

  “Whoever did this might be aware of that history,” Doc suggested, his voice sounding farther away than Val’s. Jace could imagine him standing behind her, speaking over her shoulder. “Hence their threats against Kara.”

  “Anyone would strike at the children first,” Logan argued. “It’s almost a guarantee that the child is a parent’s Achilles heel, their weakest point.”

  “Just the same. Whoever did this might be just as aware of the Collins’ history as we are. It’s important to keep that in mind. If this is more than your average nutcase making a threat against a public figure, they could know Kara as well as we do.”

  “Then it’s up to us to know her better,” Logan replied in a firm tone.

  Wonderful. Getting to know a girl like that. Jace rolled his eyes, taking note of the tightness in his chest.

  Zane was unaware of this, naturally, though their heightened senses allowed them deeper insight into each other’s prevailing train of thought. “What’s with you?” he asked Jace once the call ended and the rest of the team wasn’t listening in.

  “Nothing aside from the usual. We just closed a case tonight and are on our way to open another. The reminder that no matter what we do or how hard we work, there will always be someone in need of our help. The sense that I’m trying to fill a bucket that’s full of holes.”

  “It’s not like you to overthink.”

  “You don’t know what I’m like. Not really.”

  “Ouch.” He took it well. Zane normally did.

  “I’m just saying. None of us knows that much about our individual pasts. We’re bound together by what we are, not by who we are, and we don’t share a history beyond our service.”

  “You have a problem with rich people, then? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Zane elbowed him a little. “It’s okay if that’s the case. Honestly. Just be real about it, you know? Admit it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you do have a problem, it could be a problem going forward. It could jeopardize our client and the team.”

  Jace hated how right he was. “If I had a problem with wealthy people, why would I do the work I do? That’s all I see and deal with all day—them and you losers.”

  “Fair point,” Zane admitted. “Fine. Not rich people as a whole. Rich girls. You don’t like rich girls.”

  “I don’t like rich kids,” he corrected. “I’m sorry but fifty million bucks? For what? How many people are out there right now just trying to survive, scratching out a living? The people Senator Collins wants to help, right? The ones whose lives he wants to improve. Meanwhile, he married money, and his daughter’s on an express train to nothing, wasting her life, wasting her money, pampered and pathetic.”

  “I’m glad I attended your TED talk.”

  Zane’s deadpan delivery was just what it took to crack Jace up, and it was what he needed. His grip on the leather-covered wheel loosened. “Okay, okay. Point taken. I’m a little uptight when it comes to this subject.”

  “More than a little, but hey. Whatever. We’ve all got our things.” And just like that, the subject was closed. Another good thing about Zane: he knew when to leave things be. There wasn’t much Jace hated worse than somebody who couldn’t take a hint.

  Instead of falling into an uneasy silence, Jace asked, “Do you ever wonder what would happen to us if we did this work while living the way we used to live?”

  “You mean before we turned to what we are now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Of course. I can’t walk into a situation like the one we faced tonight without asking myself what would happen if I got shot like Sledge did. Even with armor, it would’ve been ugly. He might’ve bled out with wounds like that.”

  “I know it.”

  “You think it bothers him?” Zane asked.

  “Would it bother you?” Jace countered. “Yeah, I think it bothered the hell outta him. I think he’d have to be completely numb for it not to. You remember guys like that.”

  “Girls, too,” Zane muttered. “Too jaded. Numb to the danger. Like they had to push themselves to crazy lengths just to feel something. The more dangerous, the better.”

  “And they were always a risk to the rest of their unit,” Jace concluded. “I’d rather have a thoughtful teammate than somebody jonesing to be a cowboy.”

  “True that.”

  Logan tapped the brakes in front of them, leading Jace to do the same. They were coming up on the road in question—a quiet road, which didn’t come as a surprise. The people living in this area wanted their peace and could afford to buy it.

  A pair of stone pillars marked the entrance to the Collins’ driveway. A black iron fence ran around the perimeter of the property, and a pair of wide-shouldered men in dark suits stood at the swinging gate.

  “Looks like security’s been stepped up already,” Zane mused. They waited while the guards approached Logan’s vehicle, then split up so one of them could approach Jace and Zane.

  “Good ev
ening.” Jace showed his ID, as did Zane. The guard was young, wearing an earpiece so he could communicate with the house.

  He touched a finger to his ear. “All clear,” he muttered before waving the car through.

  The driveway was more like a road of its own, gravel-covered and wide enough to hold at least two vehicles side by side. Tasteful solar lights lined both sides at even intervals, casting a multi-faceted glow onto the gravel and the lush lawn.

  “Whoa,” Zane muttered once the house loomed in front of them. The word house was a bit of an understatement. It was a mansion, its huge windows allowing warm light to shine out over the grounds surrounding it.

  “I don’t even know if I could handle living in a place like that,” Jace admitted. “I’d always worry somebody was gonna break in, even with security in place.”

  “Even with all our skills? You know we wouldn’t let you down. Your house would be like Fort Knox by the time the techs finished with it.”

  “Great. Now I just need the money to buy one.” That wasn’t about to happen, so this was all hypothetical. Sure, they all made plenty of money—more than enough, thanks to the cut of the agency’s impressive fees.

  But some people had responsibilities too. Their money didn’t go solely to them.

  The exterior of the home was like a zoo, with cars clogging the roundabout positioned before the front door. All black, all similar models, the sort used by people who needed to blend in, like security personnel.

  “This is gonna be interesting,” Jace murmured before opening the door and stepping out into the muggy night.

  The team got together before jogging up the steps in tandem and crossing the deep porch. They flashed their IDs to the many guards milling about before reaching a sunken living room large enough to fit Jace’s apartment inside it three, maybe four, times. The rear windows looked out over the beach, then the Atlantic beyond.

  On the overstuffed beige sofa positioned before those windows sat the man the team had viewed onscreen at headquarters. William Collins looked like he’d aged a decade or two since that photo was taken, even though it was snapped at a fairly recent event.