Hostile Takeover (Vale Investigation Book One) Read online

  Cristelle Comby

  VALE INVESTIGATION

  REDEMPTION ROAD

  SERIES PREQUEL

  Copyright © 2018 by Cristelle Comby.

  Editor: J. Keith Haney

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

  By Cristelle Comby

  The Neve & Egan Cases

  Russian Dolls

  Ruby Heart

  Danse Macabre

  Blind Chess

  Vale Investigation

  Hostile Takeover

  Short Stories *

  Personal Favour (Neve & Egan prequel)

  Redemption Road (Vale Investigation prequel)

  * The short stories are exclusively available on the author’s website: www.cristelle-comby.com/freebooks

  When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.

  — Oscar Wilde, AN IDEAL HUSBAND

  Chapter one

  Swan Song

  I groaned as the cries for a second encore reverberated around the stadium. The night already dragged on long enough. The thought of having to wait on Sidhe (pronounced “she”) to wrap up yet another musical number just made it feel longer.

  But waiting was a big part of tonight’s job. I stood just off the main stage, where the latest top-ten pop princess currently enthralled a crowd of nearly fifty thousand people. I hadn’t seen the ticket sales, but I guessed that the Cold City Civic Center was standing room only right now.

  What I did see was the distant, lithe figure of tonight’s client raising her arms in benediction before saying into the mic, “Okay, one more and then we’ve got to go!”

  My boss, Bob Gregg, made this job seem fun when he pitched it to me: one night of security work, double the usual rate, and I’ll have the next couple of days off to spend with the family. It sounded good at the time.

  Based on the boredom factor, however, I should have asked for more.

  “Still not a fan?” Bob asked with a nudge to the ribs. He wore the same three-piece suit I did: pitch black, except for the pale white shirt. I stood over him by a couple of inches, but he had a bit more width than me. Hell, he was built like a tree stump, even the deep lines on his face resembling tree bark. A little sarcastic smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “Not of waiting,” I replied, sighing wearily. Damn, this shirt itches.

  “You’re getting paid good regardless, Bell,” he admonished. “Just tough it out for one more number, get our little pop diva back to her hotel, and then enjoy some time with Marissa and Line.”

  Sidhe began her next musical number in the background. I had to admit that she had something special in her voice. The moment she started singing, time and place fled the mind, and the listener simply surrendered to the notes. There was a compelling, hypnotic quality to the music that not only drew the listener in, but kept their attention, following every note with rapt attention.

  That talent was why Sidhe was now rich enough to afford Roman Square Security, the firm I worked for. And also why she was able to get Bob, the head honcho who’d long retreated from the front lines, to personally lead part of tonight’s detail.

  The eerie silence of the crowd caught my attention, none of the usual catcalls or “All right!” shouts. On slow numbers like this, everyone just shut up and let the music do the talking. I may not have shared their love for the song, but I felt its power just as surely as they did.

  In no time at all, the music ended and the crowd went crazy. My job brought me into contact with my share of cheers and applause, but this was off the scale, close to a riot. The closest thing I could think of was a gospel religious ceremony, where the participants roared and screamed their support.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Sidhe bowing to the crowd and lean into the mic. “Thank you, Cold City! Goodnight!”

  She walked towards us, and my senses flipped to full alert. At a concert, there’s always a risk someone might decide to get too frisky; that’s why Bob had both ends of the stage covered with a two-man team. But that was nothing compared to after the concert, when fans didn’t want to leave. As rapt as that crowd was, I saw no reason for my attention to be anything less than razor-sharp.

  Bob raised his inner right wrist to his mouth. “Coming out. Evac in five.”

  The young diva smiled at us as she got close. “Hello, boys.”

  She repelled me as much as she attracted me. Some of that had to do with the rainbow dye in her hair, the left eye green and right red, courtesy of contact lenses, and the nose ring. On the other hand, she had pale, clear skin, an elfin face and a thin frame under her scanty stage clothes, filled out just enough to avoid looking anorexic.

  She turned up the wattage on the smile. “Shall we?”

  “You got point, Bell,” Bob said, as he reached for the door. A grip slipped a white terrycloth robe on the pop star just before Bob opened the door to the alleyway.

  As expected, a throng of adoring fans—screaming, holding out pictures for autographs, snapping cellphone pics—stood between us and the limo in that narrow corridor. Being six foot tall has certain advantages in situations like this, as I was able to see that we only had to go about three feet or so before we came out to the limo proper. Two-thirds of the way was filled with the crowd, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle.

  Bob asked her manager before the concert why fans would be let around the back of the building instead of being cordoned off outside. The production company’s answer was that Sidhe couldn’t be insta-famous if no-one ever took her picture… or something like that. So Bob and I were stuck with crowd control as Sidhe walked between us, radiant as the sun. She occasionally favored some lucky fan with a wink or a wave, but otherwise let us do our jobs.

  The alleyway gave way to a small sidewalk, complete with canopy. There was another adoring crowd here too, but the Civic Center’s security team were doing a good job of keeping them back. We’d nearly reached the limo when I spotted a blur running right at us on my left. I intercepted him before he could get too close, wrapping my arms around his torso and pushing back.

  “Sidhe!” the guy cried out. “Sidhe, it’s me! Don’t you recognize me?”

  I turned my lips up in disgust as I got a closer look at him. He was roughly Bob’s age, wearing a suit that hadn’t seen a dry cleaner since the turn of the century. The look didn’t match his wild eyes, which shone with the same strength he was using to break my grip.

  What the hell is the matter with you, pal? I thought. Someone your age should know better.

  Bob stepped in and grabbed him from behind. “All right, buddy, let’s go.”

  “You don’t understand!” the guy yelled. “I need her!”

  “Sure, you do,” Bob said. “Bellamy, close formation. I got this one.”

  The security team held the rest of the crowd at bay while my boss dumped our intruder back into it. Sidhe gave her fans one final wave before getting into the limo. Three long strides and I was in there with her. I shut the door and banged the partition two times. The driver got the message and we were off.

  “Ohhh,” Sidhe sighed with satisfaction, as she leaned back in the plush leather seat. “That wa
s positively delightful.”

  “You enjoy your work that much, ma’am?” I asked, keeping a watchful eye out of the passenger side window.

  She grabbed me by the chin and turned my head around. “Oh, just call me Sidhe. Everyone does these days.”

  I tried turning my head back around. She exerted an unusually strong grip to keep it there. “Uh, uh,” she said with a shake of her head. “I appreciate your service, Mr. Vale. But we’re safe now, so I insist you relax.”

  “If I’m relaxing, I’m not working,” I insisted. “And right now, that work involves protecting you.”

  Sidhe hummed a little as a ghost of a smile twitched across her face. She patted my cheek like an indulgent aunt. “Well, I can’t fault you for being on guard. In fact, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

  The way she said it set off my internal alarm bells. I’d been around long enough to know a woman only gets this kind of friendly when she wants to make a move on you. If I were single, I might let her, but I had a wife and daughter waiting for me at home.

  “I never did answer your question, did I?” she asked, as I looked back out the window. “Yes, I very much enjoy what I do. It’s such a change from what I did before.”

  “What was that?” I asked.

  That same hum purred out of her throat. Apparently, it was all the answer I was going to get.

  My cell buzzed and I pulled it out.

  “Hey, Bell, it’s Bob. Package secure?”

  “And in transit,” I confirmed, noting the nearest street sign whizzing by. “Should be at the hotel in ten, traffic contingent.”

  “Got our ushers checking out the rest of the route,” Bob said, leaning heavy on his pseudo-military jargon. I smiled as it reminded me of my time in the Navy. “No reports of any problems so far.”

  “Hallelujah…I would like this night to end on a quiet note.”

  “Almost end of watch, trooper,” Bob assured me. “Maintain an even strain for just a little longer.”

  “That’s a wilco,” I replied.

  The phone clicked dead after that. Bob was never one for goodbyes, even off the clock.

  “No problems, I trust?” Sidhe asked me.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see her arching a dyed eyebrow. I shook my head. “Everything’s nice and peaceful at the hotel. Soon as I get you to your room, you should be safe for the night.”

  Suddenly, she was leaning against my arm and shoulder, rubbing against me while giving out a sensual hum. “My white knight continues to impress.”

  I did my best to ignore the treatment, keeping an eye on the outside world. She eventually stopped rubbing, but she leaned on my arm the rest of the way to the hotel.

  *

  Two of my colleagues, Rick and Blake, nodded at me as Sidhe stuck her keycard into the door. Physically, they had the best of both worlds, Bob’s width and my height. Anybody wanting to get past them was going to need superior firepower—or a whole football team.

  As Sidhe pushed the door open to enter, I held up a finger and entered first. While the client waited at the entrance, I went over the suite, which was roughly the size of the ground floor of my house. It had a spacious living room area, a full kitchen, a full bath that included a hot tub, and a really full bedroom that could have doubled as an efficiency apartment. Wall to wall, it was draped in enough white to make me glad that I still had my shades on.

  My search of the suite, which was part of the service Roman Square Security provided, took about fifteen minutes. I found a small digital camera in the bathroom that I smashed, and an audio bug inside the shade of one of the lamps that I yanked out by the wires. Other than those two annoyances, the rest of the place was clean.

  By the time I got back to the entrance, Sidhe gave me a saucy smile and asked, “Is it safe?”

  “Now it is,” I replied, holding up the fragments of the smashed surveillance devices.

  She reached for the light controls and dimmed the power. It was like an artificial sunset descending on the place. I pulled off my shades when it got too dark for them.

  “Ah, there they are,” my client whispered, as she slipped out of her robe. “Those lovely, lovely eyes I’ve been wanting to see all night.”

  I blinked hard. I knew for a fact that she had her stage clothes on when she put on the robe. Now she was completely nude.

  “In fact, everything about you is lovely,” she whispered, getting within arm’s reach. “I want to see all of it with my own three eyes.”

  I barely had time to puzzle out that statement when she pinned me to the wall and rubbed against me again.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I said, pushing her off me. “I have a wife at home.”

  She just chuckled and shrugged. “So? Most men I take to bed do.”

  I pushed myself off the wall and walked towards the door. “I’m not most men. Goodnight.”

  She shrugged and gave me that trademark hum. I closed the door behind me as I left. Rick and Blake gave me a look as I straightened out my jacket and pointed towards the door.

  “I’d stay out of there if I were you.”

  *

  I made it down to the hotel lobby before my phone buzzed again. Probably Bob checking in, I thought, but I didn’t recognize the local number. I pressed the answer button and said, “Bellamy Vale.”

  “Mr. Vale, this is Doctor Menendez,” the voice on the other end of the line told me. “I’m sorry to have to inform you that your wife and daughter were in a serious car accident.”

  I felt my heart drop straight into my stomach, as I stopped dead in my tracks. “What?”

  “They were in a car accident,” the doctor repeated. “We have them here if you can—”

  “Which hospital?” I asked, my strides taking me to the front door.

  “St. Jacqueline’s…but really, sir, we need to—”

  I hung up on him. I probably should have listened, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. All that mattered was getting to Marissa and Line as quickly as possible.

  *

  My Honda was stashed in the front parking lot. I nearly ripped the driver’s door off getting in. I hadn’t even shut it completely when I started the engine.

  I barely remember the drive to the hospital. It began raining when I was a few buildings down the block. By the time I got to the first red light, the downpour was so heavy that my stripped wiper blades could barely keep the windshield clear.

  But that didn’t matter. I didn’t care. The only thing that did matter, and that I cared about, was waiting for me at St. Jacqueline’s.

  I doubt that I was doing anything close to the speed limit but, somehow, I managed to get across town without getting pulled over. I’d barely shut off the engine when I opened the door to get drenched by the rain. I don’t think I even locked it before running towards the ER entrance.

  I managed to get to the front desk before I felt the first surge of tears rip its way through me. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I was supposed to be home. They were supposed to be home. We’re supposed to be going to the beach tomorrow. We’re supposed to be enjoying my time off. We’re supposed to…

  I croaked out Marissa and Line’s names to the nurse at the desk. She pointed me towards a hallway and gave me a room number. I think I thanked her as I stumbled in that direction. Then I realized that I only heard one name.

  I went from walking to running in the space of a second, my mind fixed on the room number like it was a lifeline. It was late, and the hallways were almost empty. Some people at the nurses’ station yelled at me to slow down or stop, but I kept going. I had to get there, I had to get there…

  I saw a man in a long white doctor’s coat standing next to the room I was looking for. I tried running past him to go inside, but he caught me by the shoulders and pushed me against the wall. I fought h
im until I realized what he was saying.

  “Mr. Vale…Mr. Vale!”

  Hearing my own name snapped me out of the angry delirium I was caught up in since the phone call, and I took a closer look at the doctor. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, hair almost gone with the exception of a seriously shaved section that went around the bottom of his skull. His skin had a bronzed look, more the result of genetics than excessive sunlight. He was roughly about my height and build, which accounted for the strength he used to push me back. Small square-framed glasses surrounded his calm eyes. Though his face didn’t have a line on it, his eyes looked old before their time.

  “How…how did you know?” I managed to ask.

  “The police are here,” he calmly explained, as he let me go. “They found some family photos. I recognized you from those.”

  I slumped against the wall, as much from the comedown of my manic burst as from grief. “My wife…my little girl…”

  “The EMTs did everything they could at the scene,” the doctor explained, crouching down beside me. “We ran tests immediately when they arrived in the ER, but your wife was DOA. We did our best…I’m sorry.”

  Strangely, I didn’t cry at the news. I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. The woman I loved was dead and there was nothing I could do about it. But the pain just hit too deep, made me too numb. The only drops on my face were from the rain outside.

  “What…what about Line?” I asked. “My daughter?”

  “We did everything we could for her too,” he said. “She made it to the ER alive.”

  He must have seen the flicker of hope on my face, because the next thing he said was, “She crashed two minutes ago. Her brain’s been without oxygen for too long. She fought as hard as she could. We were able to keep her heart beating, but there’s just too much brain damage.”

  I put my palms against the wall and felt something wrap its way around my throat. Still no tears, still the same desire to cry them out. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. It was all just too much.

  That’s when I noticed the nametag on the doctor’s lapel: Menendez.