Deadly Temptation. Justine Davis
“Who the hell are you?”
“My name’s Tony Alvera.”
He’d wanted considerably more than just a name, but he sensed the man knew that.
“IA recruiting from outside now?” he asked.
“I’m not a cop.”
Logan frowned. “Marcos hiring a higher class of thug now?”
The man laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But no, I don’t work for him, either.”
So he was working for somebody, Logan thought.
“And,” the man went on in a tone that matched the first ruefulness of his expression, “if the man I do work for ever finds out how easily you burned me, I may not be working for him much longer, either.”
“Who,” Logan said carefully, “is your boss?”
“Name’s Draven. John Draven.”
Logan frowned at the unfamiliar name.
“Yeah, not many on the outside have heard of him. He likes it that way.”
“Outside of what? Or where?”
“You might have heard of his boss, though,” Alvera said. “Most people have.”
“Look I don’t have time for games. Who the hell sent you to tail me?”
“Joshua Redstone.”
Logan Beck was not often astonished, but he was now. He knew he was gaping at Alvera, but he was stunned.
“Joshua Redstone?” He said the famous name incredulously. “The gazillionaire of Redstone Aviation?”
“The same,” Alvera confirmed. “And Redstone Resorts, Redstone Technologies and Development, and a few other assorted divisions of the empire.”
“Why? What have I got to do with Redstone?”
“Nothing,” Alvera admitted. “It’s more the other way around.”
Completely baffled now, Logan shook his head as if that would somehow make this all make sense.
“What,” he said slowly, carefully, “are you talking about?”
“I’m Redstone Security.”
Logan straightened up sharply. Usually, to the police, the mention of private security resulted in either visions of retired cops who were more often than not well past their prime or who had left the job ignominiously, or wannabes who couldn’t cut it as real cops. Neither engendered much respect.
But Redstone Security was a different story. Anybody who ever dealt with them, be it local law enforcement, the feds, military, or any other agency, universally came away respecting the efficiency and capabilities of the team Josh Redstone had built. Their reputation preceded them in most quarters, and they were, in fact, the envy of many for their freedom to do what needed to be done without jumping through the myriad hoops traditional authorities had to deal with.
But they weren’t glory hounds, either, Logan knew. More than once they’d succeeded where police had failed but they never made an issue of it. When they came across criminal activity in the course of one of their own operations, they handed what they had over to the cops and let them take the credit while they went about the business of protecting Redstone. In that, they’d earned the respect and admiration of law enforcement wherever Redstone operated, an area that covered a large portion of the globe.
And they should have nothing to do with this, he thought, even more suspicious now.
“You have some proof of that?” he asked.
The man nodded. Again he held up his right hand, palm forward, as indication of no malicious intent.
“ID,” he explained as he reached back with his left hand and pulled a canvas wallet out of his back pocket. He flipped it open and handed it over.
Logan studied the displayed ID card. It looked legitimate, with the gray and red Redstone colors and the stylized graphic of the prototype Hawk I jet in the upper left corner. The name on the card read “Tony Alvera,” as he’d said, but there was no indication of a job title or position, just the name and the Redstone address and contact numbers.
“So if I call Redstone personnel, they’ll cheerfully confirm you work there?”
“No.” His gaze shot back to the man’s face. Alvera shrugged. “Security keeps a low profile. Our work is often in-house, so we work out of a different location, and our files are kept separately.”
“So I should just believe you?”
“Your choice.”
He studied the man for a moment. The dark eyes held his gaze levelly, no dodging, no skittishness, just a calm, open response to his suspicions. After the men he’d been dealing with lately, it was a pleasant change. And also told him it was unlikely this man was one of them.
“What,” Logan said carefully, slowly, “does Redstone Security have to do with me?”
“Not us per se,” Alvera said. “The order came from the top, Josh himself.”
“I’ve never even met him,” Logan said. Meeting one of the five richest men in the world wasn’t something he was likely to have forgotten.
“But one of Redstone’s people has met you. And asked us to…look into your situation.”
Logan frowned. “I don’t know anyone at Redstone.”
“You do now. Liana Kiley.”
Logan blinked; of all the names he might ever have expected, that hadn’t been one of them. “What?”
“You do know her, right?”
An image instantly formed in his mind, as if it had been yesterday instead of years ago, of the blue-eyed redhead with a faint tracing of freckles across her nose. A sweet, pretty, girl-next-door type who’d been caught up in an ugly situation, she’d been justifiably terrified, and yet had managed to keep her cool enough to help him end it.
Liana?
He’d never forgotten her. How could he, after what had happened? Not only had they shared that adrenaline-pumping experience, but she had also, amazingly, spent hours with him during those long, pain-filled days in the hospital. His memories of that time were a little hazy, and consisted mainly of hospital personnel subjecting him to various indignities, doctors looking suitably grim, a parade of cops looking even more grim, the knowledge he was likely going to die…and Liana.
Oh, yes, he’d thought of her often. In fact, more than ever since he’d been undercover on this assignment. More than once he’d barely stopped himself from tracking her down, just to see how she was doing. There had been such an innocence about her, something he hadn’t seen much of since he’d gone under. He supposed that was the reason she’d been on his mind so much.
“Back then, she was working for JetCal,” he said slowly.
“She quit. After they got caught funding industrial spying. On Redstone.”
He drew back slightly. “And now she works for Redstone?”
The man nodded. “As of a couple of days ago, yes.”
In spite of himself Logan’s mouth quirked into a wry smile. “Now that sounds like her.”
An echoing smile flitted across Alvera’s face. “I’ve only met her once so far, but I’d have to agree.”
That “so far” irked him, and Logan tensed before he realized it. Then he wondered what the hell that was about. He had no reason to feel territorial about a woman he hadn’t seen in eight years, since the day one month after he’d finally gotten out of the hospital, when she’d presented the Medal of Valor