The Conspiracy

The Conspiracy, by Kat Martin

EXCERPT 1 of 5

Dallas, Texas

She knew who he was. The only man at the gala in a black tuxedo and shiny black alligator cowboy boots. Chase Garrett. The man she intended to hire to help her find her missing brother.

Harper Winston had known Chase since the day her father had thrown an obnoxiously extravagant party in honor of her sixteenth birthday.

Chase had attended with her older brother, Michael. She had spotted Chase in a swimsuit standing next to the pool, tall, with a lean, hard-muscled body, whiskey-brown eyes and thick, dark blond hair. In the sun it had gleamed like pirate’s gold.

Aside from the close-trimmed beard along a jaw that had hardened with maturity, Chase hadn’t changed. He still had the perfectly symmetrical features of a movie star combined with a toughness that appealed to a legion of women.

Now that she was thirty, Chase thirty-five, Harper still found him ridiculously attractive, though he’d never given her more than a passing glance.

He didn’t notice her tonight, though she wore an elegant strapless black gown that hugged her slender curves and set off the pale blond hair she wore long and slightly turned under. She glanced over to where he stood next to a stunning brunette, a successful lawyer in Dallas, the typical sort of woman Chase dated.

It didn’t matter that she was nothing like she was. That she hadn’t the least interest in society. Her interests lay in the business world, in Elemental Chic, the company she had started, a line of affordable, stylish and well-made casual clothing and accessories.

She wasn’t cut out for teaching or social work, she had discovered during a year of volunteer work in South America, an adventure she had undertaken mostly because her father disapproved.

Harvard Business School was where she was meant to be, she had grudgingly conceded. As her father had insisted and was eager to pay for—business being one of the few interests she and Knox Winston, a self-made multimillionaire, had in common.

Unlike her father, Chase Garrett came from big money, which he disdained, though he and his two brothers had inherited a not-so-small fortune from Bass Garrett, Chase’s dad.

Harper lifted a champagne flute off a passing waiter’s tray and took a sip. Chase might not notice her tonight, but he was the reason she was there. She hadn’t seen him in years, but when she had read in the newspaper that he would be attending the gala, she’d seized the opportunity. She wanted to see the man he had become, the man she would be facing tomorrow morning.

It didn’t matter what he thought of her as a woman. She needed his professional assistance. Her brother was in trouble. She knew it deep in her soul. Mikey had disappeared, and Chase was among the few people she trusted to help her find him.

Chase owned Maximum Security, a firm that specialized in private investigation, bail enforcement, personal protection, business and residential security. She had done her homework, knew he had offices in Phoenix and San Diego as well as here in Dallas. Chase was wildly successful, his reputation impeccable.

No matter his opinion of her, he had once been a close friend of her brother’s, a man Michael trusted completely. She needed Chase’s help, and she was determined to convince him.

She wouldn’t give up until she did.

***

Standing next to Chase, Marla Chambers, his date for the evening, took a drink of her martini. “You don’t look like you’re having a very good time,” she said. “Should I be insulted?”

His mouth edged up. “Sorry. I was thinking about a case. I can’t seem to get it off my mind.”

“The missing teenage girl?”

He’d mentioned her earlier. He nodded.

“Are you working for the parents?”

“No. I just happened to hear something on the street today. I’d like to check it out.”

She eyed him with speculation. “And you’re wishing you were doing that now instead of being here with me.”

He hated to admit she was right.

“She’s just a kid. If my source is right, she’s in very big trouble, and I might be able to find her.”

“I don’t suppose you could let the police handle it.”

“I could. I need to check it out first, make sure the tip is real.”

Marla shook her head, went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Then you’d better go.”

“Call me tomorrow. Let me know what happens.”

“If I’m right, you’ll see it on the news.” Chase left Marla chatting with a friend and headed for the door. As he made his way through the throng of elegantly dressed men and women, an attractive blonde caught his eye.  Tall, with a slender figure, porcelain skin, and big blue eyes. She looked familiar.

As the puzzle pieces slid together, he recognized her, Harper Winston, the younger sister of his best friend in college. As a teenager, Harper had been pretty. Looking at her tonight, seeing her for the first time in years, he realized she had grown into a beautiful woman.

Unfortunately, she was a Winston. Her father, Knox Winston, was one of his least favorite people. Ruthless in business, his crooked dealings had made him a very wealthy man. But worse than his shady business enterprises was the mental abuse he’d heaped on his son that had put Michael on a downward spiral into drugs. And effectively destroyed his friendship with Chase.

On his way out the door, he passed her. For an instant, her gorgeous blue eyes slid over him, and Chase felt a jolt of heat he hadn’t expected. He wouldn’t pursue it. Sleeping with Harper Winston, no matter how good it might be, just wasn’t worth it.

His thoughts returned to the task ahead, he needed to get home and change. He couldn’t go to the Double Eagle dressed in a tuxedo—the bar was in Old East Dallas, one of the meanest sections of the city.

It didn’t take long to reach the high-rise building on Pearl Street where he lived. He parked his silver Mercedes in the garage next to the brown Dodge Ram pickup he used for work.

With thirty-five hundred square feet of space, a spectacular view of the city, and a big terrace that opened off the living room and master bedroom, the condo was expensive and worth every dime.

Changing out of the tux, he pulled on a pair of worn jeans, a frayed blue denim shirt and a pair of scuffed cowboy boots. He retrieved the little .380 he carried when he wanted a weapon he could easily conceal, clipped the holster onto his belt behind his back and pulled his shirttail down over it.

It didn’t take long to reach the bar. He parked on the street half a block from the bar and hoped the truck wouldn’t get jacked.

Looking at the trash on the sidewalk, broken beer bottles, used hypodermic needles, and drunks asleep in the gutter, part of him hoped his information was wrong and the girl wasn’t there.

The other half hoped like hell she was.

If he got lucky, maybe he could get her out of there.

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The Conspiracy, by Kat Martin

EXCERPT 2 of 5

Chase watched the willowy blonde walk out of his office.  With her sleek pale blond hair, delicate features, and perfect complexion, she wasn’t just pretty, she was lovely in the extreme.  He clamped down on a thread of sexual heat as she disappeared from view.

It surprised him.  He remembered hearing talk at the country club before she moved to Houston.  Rumor had it Harper Winston was an ice queen.  Her ex-boyfriend made jokes about taking a dead fish to bed.  Aside from being slightly irritated on her behalf as a former friend of her brother’s, he hadn’t paid much attention. 

Seeing her today, he wondered.  The woman who had come into his office to help her brother was passionately determined, willing to put herself in danger to find the brother she obviously loved.

He couldn’t help but admire her.  And it made him doubt what her ex and the country club crowd had said.  All that fire had come from somewhere deep inside.  Maybe it just took the right man to stir the flames.

The thought didn’t sit well.  The pull of attraction he had felt last night had only grown stronger today, reminding him of the first time he had seen her all those years ago.

She’d just turned sixteen that day.  He’d gone with her brother to her birthday party, he and Michael, both twenty one, had just graduated from Yale.  He’d thought she looked like an angel.

Unfortunately, an angel who was his best friend’s sister, way too young and completely out of his reach. 

Over the years he and Michael had gone their separate ways, Chase ending up in law enforcement, a life-long passion, Michael sliding deeper and deeper into drugs and alcohol–thanks to his no-good father.

Knox Winston was a gangster in expensively tailored business clothes.  His ruthless, shady dealings had made him obscenely rich, but at a tremendous cost.  His wife had committed suicide.  His son had overdosed more than once. 

How the man had escaped prosecution for so many years was something Chase could not comprehend.

After his friendship with Michael had ended, Chase had stayed away from the family and until this morning, had every intention of keeping it that way.  Now a pair of big blue eyes clouded with worry and memories of a man he had once loved like a brother were dragging him back into the fold.

Chase silently cursed.  Grabbing his navy blazer off the back of the chair, he shrugged it on over his jeans and shirt and walked out into the open area the guys called the bullpen.

Nine oak desks arranged in rows of three were occupied by the independent contractors who worked at Maximum Security.  Antique farming tools hung on the walls, along with framed photos of the ranch Chase owned with Reese and Brandon out in the Texas Hill Country. 

“Mindy, I need you to cancel my appointments for the next three days.  I may be gone longer.  If I am, I’ll call and let you know.”

“I’ll take care of it, boss.”  Mindy was a temp who had been working at The Max less than three weeks, replacing a long-time employee who had retired to spend time with her grandkids. 

Mindy was good.  He was thinking of bringing her aboard full time. 

“If a problem comes up, go to Bran or Jase.  They should be able to handle it.”  

“Okay.”

Turning, he walked over to his youngest brother, who had just gotten off the phone.  Bran was a PI who specialized in person protection, law enforcement being a tradition on their mother’s side of the family.  The Devlins, including Chase’s grandfather, great grandfather, and a handful of uncles, had all worked as cops, FBI, or been career military men.  

His younger brothers were two very different people, Bran a former special ops soldier turned bodyguard, Reese the extremely successful businessman who ran Garrett Resources, the Texas-based oil company founded by their great-grandfather.  Both brothers had blue-eyes, but Reese’s hair was black, Bran’s dark brown.  Both were an inch taller than Chase’s six-foot-two-inch frame. 

“Something’s come up,” Chase said to Bran.  “I’m leaving the country for a few days, maybe longer.  I need you to keep an eye on things while I’m gone.”

“No problem.  What’s up?”

“Missing person’s case.  Michael Winston’s disappeared.  His sister needs help finding him.”

Bran grunted.  “Probably off drunk somewhere or loaded on drugs.”

“According to Harper, he’s turned his life around.  Been clean five years.”

Bran sat up a little straighter.  “Well that’s good to hear.  He used to be a great guy before he went haywire.”

“For his sister’s sake, I hope he hasn’t fallen off the wagon.”

One of Bran’s dark eyebrows went up.  “His sister?  I thought I recognized the luscious little blonde who was in here earlier.  Seems to me you had a yen for her way back when.”

“She was Michael’s sister and way too young.  Plus she’s a Winston.  That family’s nothing but trouble.”

“So why’d you take the case?”

“Moment of weakness, I guess.  Or maybe for old time’s sake.  Worst of it is Harper’s going with me.”

Brandon laughed.  “Jeez, big brother, you must have a masochistic streak.”

He sighed just thinking about the hours he would be spending with the tempting little blonde.

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The Conspiracy, by Kat Martin

EXCERPT 3 of 5

In the throes of wild monkey sex with Harper Winston, Chase awoke covered in a film of perspiration, an unwelcome throbbing beneath the sheet.  Cursing, he sat up in bed and ran a hand over his face.  Only a dream.  Or in this case, a nightmare. 

He shoved his fingers through his sweat-damp hair.  Jesus God, he couldn’t remember a dream that had felt more real.  Or ever being more aroused. 

Swearing foully, he rolled out of bed.  His brother Bran would get an I-told-you-so laugh out of his misery, but Chase didn’t find his unwanted attraction to a Winston the least bit funny.

Not when Harper’s father ran his world much like a Mafia don, a highly successful criminal enterprise that allowed him to get away with murder–literally.  Everyone in the Dallas underworld knew that to cross Knox Winston might get you dead.  The DA’s office turned a blind eye, along with the dirty cops on Knox’s payroll.

Aside from the legitimate businesses Knox now ran–from motels, restaurants, and laundries, to larger enterprises like hotel chains, no one really seemed to know how Knox had actually amassed his fortune.  Since his son had once been Chase’s best friend, Chase didn’t want to know, either.

He wondered how much Harper knew about her father’s activities.  Not much, he would guess, since Knox had gone to great lengths to keep his children under the illusion he was just a mega-successful businessman.  And Harper had been gone from Dallas for years.

Chase had a hunch Michael had suspected, that it was part of the reason he had turned to alcohol and drugs, but they had never talked about it. 

Padding naked into the bathroom, he reached into the shower and turned on the water, setting the temperature a little colder than he liked.  He wanted to wash Harper’s beautiful face out of his head, the memory of her small, perfect breasts that–thank God–he had never actually seen.

Pulling on his jeans and a short-sleeved yellow Oxford shirt, he was ready to meet with Dutch, who had arranged a boat to Curacao.  They could have gone by plane, but he wanted the flexibility to check, if necessary, other spots around the island once they got there. 

He wished he was going by himself instead of dragging a woman into what might turn out to be a bad situation.  But as he walked into the living room, Harper came out of the other bedroom, straw hat in hand, dressed and ready to go.  His mind flashed back to the hot, erotic dream, and a shot of lust hit him like a fist.

Chase dragged in a lungful of air and forced himself to think of something else.  Palm trees might have worked if she hadn’t walked close enough for him to catch a whiff of her soft perfume. 

“Good morning,” she said.  “Sleep okay?”

Jesus God, help him.  He didn’t want to think of the dream, refused to allow his mind to slide back into the gutter.  Chase had never been more grateful to hear his iPhone ring. 

Pulling his cell out of his pocket, he recognized Tabby’s number and pressed the phone against his ear.  “What have you got for me, Tab?”

“Pia’s phone pinged at the Zee Winden Marina in Curacao, same as Michael’s.  Both phones are now inactive.”

Not good.  He could contact the authorities in Curacao, but he could probably be there before the investigation–such as it would likely be–actually got underway.  And once he got the police involved it would limit what he would be able to do.

“Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.  If I get something I’ll call.”

“Thanks, Tab.  You’re the best.”  Chase hung up the phone, his mind back on the case.  In his business, the job had to come first.  People’s lives depended on it.    

“What did she say?” Harper asked.

“Zee Winden Marina in Curacao, same as your brother.  Call Christy and tell her, then pack an overnight bag.  We might not get back tonight.”

So saying, he grabbed the duffle, now packed, he had brought empty in his carryon, something smaller, a little easier to manage.  Just a dupe kit, clean underwear, a dress shirt and slacks, high-topped boots and cargo pants, things that might be useful as they moved into uncharted territory, where his search for Michael might lead. 

A few minutes later, Harper walked back into the living room carrying the colorful oversized canvas bag she had carried onto the plane.  It was stuffed full and zipped shut ready to go.  She had pulled her hair into a pony tail, but flyaway pale blond strands floated around her face, gleaming like pale spun gold. 

The heat returned to his groin.  Dammit, what was there about her?

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The Conspiracy, by Kat Martin

EXCERPT 4 of 5

The sounds of the rainforest surrounded him, the hum of insects, the shrill cry of a monkey, and the rustle of leaves as a wild animal moved through the undergrowth not far away. 

In the blackness of night, Michael Winston leaned back against the thick trunk of an eighty foot Kapok rising up from the damp, mossy floor of the rainforest.  His wrists burned from the plastic ties biding his hands behind his back.  The white Bermuda shorts his captors had allowed him to put on when they had boarded BUZZ Word and found him sleeping naked next to Pia in the master cabin were gone.  Replaced by khaki fatigues more suitable for their trek into the jungle.

Huddled on the ground beside him, hands also bound, Pia rested her head on his shoulder, her long mahogany hair teasing his cheek.  She was petite, no more than five foot-three, with big brown eyes and smooth olive skin.  Even with her makeup gone, her baggy fatigues damp from the afternoon rain and sticking to her lush curves, she was beautiful.  

Every time he looked at her, guilt and fury washed over him.  Fury that he was helpless to protect her from what might be in store for them.  Guilt that if he hadn’t convinced her to go sailing with him she would be safe back in Aruba. 

He could only pray that their captors would continue to obey whatever orders had apparently come down from their leader, which seemed to be not to hurt them. 

At least no more than they had already happened during the fight to subdue them that night on the boat.  His jaw and cheek were bruised and his ribs acted from the blows he had taken.  He would have kept fighting if one of the men hadn’t pulled a gun and pressed it against Pia’s head. 

That had been days ago.  What day was it now?  He tried to count backward, remembered making incredible love to Pia for the first time after a night of gambling at the Trade Winds Casino.  Both of them had won a little money, enough to have them smiling when they returned to the boat and ended up in bed. 

He remembered Pia falling asleep in his arms.  Remembered the deep, satisfied sleep he’d drifted into himself, a rarity with the heavy work schedule he’d been under. 

Sometime later that night, two men, big, burly and tough, had boarded the yacht and taken control, forcing him to sail out of the marina into the open sea.  For the next two days, Michael had been certain the men’s intention was to pirate the yacht, kill them and dump their bodies in the ocean.

If it hadn’t been for Pia, he would have made an attempt to overpower his captors, but the men were heavily armed and well-trained, and he wasn’t willing to risk Pia’s life unless there was absolutely no other choice.

Eventually, the boat had sailed into a quiet cove on a deserted stretch of beach several hundred miles from Curacao.  If his mental calculations were correct, they’d arrived somewhere in Colombia.

They’d been imprisoned two more days before soldiers had arrived to take charge of them.  By then, Michael had been certain the motive was ransom, a demand for millions from his mega-rich father in return for his son’s release.  But he was no longer sure.

Not since the soldiers had forced him and Pia to begin this grueling trek into the rainforest that covered the steep sides of the mountains.  They had hiked all day in ill-fitting boots provided by their captors that rubbed blisters on their feet. 

At dusk the soldiers had stopped the march and begun making camp.  Exhausted, Michael had slumped against the tree and Pia had eased down beside him.  He had no idea how long they’d sat there while the men ate and drank between raucous bursts of laughter.

They’d been brought water and a little food, which they’d been released just long enough to eat, given a bathroom break, then been tied up again and left beneath the tree. 

Equally as wet, numb and cold as he was, Pia shifted and raised her head to look at him.  “How many more days, do you think, till we reach wherever they’re taking us?”

They hadn’t arrived at their final destination–he was sure of that.  “I heard some of them talking.  My Spanish sucks, but I was able to make out some of what they said.  If I got it right, they’re planning to reach the main camp by tomorrow night.” 

Which meant another long day of hiking through the harsh, wet, mountainous tropical landscape.  Pia spoke far better Spanish than he did, but she’d been careful not to let them know.  She was extremely smart, which was one of the reasons he’d been attracted to her in the first place.  Not to mention her beautiful face and fantastic figure. 

“Do you think they’ve sent word to your father?”

He had told her his ransom theory mostly to keep her spirits up, told her his father was worth millions of dollars and that he would surely pay for the safe return of his only son and the girl who was with him. 

Though Michael had never been able to live up to his father’s expectations and they rarely spoke these days, it didn’t change the fact they were blood.  His father would pay the ransom demand and Pia would be part of the bargain–Michael wasn’t leaving without her.

“They’ve probably sent word by now,” he said.  “They’ll want to be paid in cash.  It might take my father a while to get the money together and get it down here.”

And his sister would be looking for them, he was sure of that.  He hadn’t called her in days, as she had made him promise to do.  Harper would know something was wrong and she would be doing her best to find him.

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The Conspiracy, by Kat Martin

EXCERPT 5 of 5

As the land cruiser rolled along the highway, Harper tried to relax, but worry nagged her.  She didn’t like the big, dark-haired man with the obsidian eyes and scarred face.  With his hard features and powerful, muscular body, Killian Dawson made her more than a little uneasy.

Even his name set her on edge.  Killian.  Kil, he called himself.  She wondered if he spelled it with two LLs.

She couldn’t imagine how a man who hadn’t cut his hair in months, hadn’t shaved in days, could possibly be handsome, but somehow he was.  She thought that a man who exuded that kind of masculinity wouldn’t have any trouble attracting women, though his crude brand of sexuality didn’t appeal to her and only made her dislike him more.

It didn’t matter what she thought of him.  They needed his help to find Michael, and Dawson clearly knew what he was doing.  She would follow his orders, do whatever she had to.

Besides, she was armed and so was Chase.  In a different but equally masculine way, Chase was Dawson’s equal.  He was smart, his body hard, all lean-muscled power and strength.  She could count on Chase to protect her, believed that in every cell of her body.

Maybe it was because she was Michael’s sister, or that she was a woman, but she didn’t think so.  Something was happening between them.  She had begun to see it in Chase’s eyes whenever he looked at her and thought she wouldn’t see.

Something hot and sexual was happening that neither of them wanted–Harper revised the thought–or at least something Chase didn’t want.  Harper was growing more and more certain having sex with Chase Garrett was exactly what she wanted.

Whatever the truth, at least for now both of them were doing their best to ignore it.  They were there to save Michael and Pia.  That was all that mattered.

An hour and a half after they left Santa Marta following the GPS coordinates Tabitha Love had given to Chase, Kil Dawson pulled the Land Cruiser off the Mingueo-Santa Marta highway onto a two-lane road headed directly toward the ocean.  The road quickly narrowed to a single dirt track, and a few miles later, the sea appeared in front of them, an endless expanse of blue.

The road turned slightly south and ran along the edge of a cove.  A ways farther on, a few weary structures appeared ahead of them, a gas station with only a single pump, and what passed for a restaurant with rooms above.  A permanent VACANT sign swung in the breeze on a pole outside the entrance.  Next to it, the door to the Las Palmaras Cantina stood open.

The village was mostly deserted, just a kid on a ratty, bicycle and a couple of older women in ankle-length, gathered skirts walking along the dirt street.  A mongrel black and white dogged sniffed a trash can in the ally beside the restaurant looking for something to eat.

It was the sleek white sailboat bobbing at a long wooden dock on the west side of the cove that captured Harper’s attention.  Her mouth went dry as she recognized her brother’s beautiful yacht, BUZZ Word.

“There it is!”  She pointed excitedly over Chase’s shoulder.  “Michael’s boat.  That’s it!”

Dawson pulled the vehicle off the main road onto an even narrower dirt track that wound into deep green foliage.  Reaching beneath his seat, he dragged out a pair of binoculars and began to scan the dock, the village, and the area around it for what seemed the longest time.

“Looks deserted,” he finally said.  “No way to know for sure till we check it out.”

Harper’s gaze remained on the boat, her heart throbbing.  They’d found the yacht, but what had happened to Michael and Pia?  She didn’t see anyone aboard the vessel.  Had they been murdered for the money the valuable yacht would bring?  She shoved the grim thought out of her head.  Her brother was alive somewhere and being held for ransom.  Chase had said it was still a possibility.

Putting the cruiser into four-wheel drive, Dawson drove farther down the muddy trail until they were completely hidden from view.  The engine went dead and Dawson stepped out of the vehicle.  At the same time, so did Chase.

Silently, the men walked to the rear of the cruiser and opened the tailgate to the cargo area.  They both started unzipping gear bags and pulling out clothes and equipment.

When the men began to peel off their shirts and jeans, Harper looked away.  By the time she looked back, both men were dressed, both wearing camo pants and T-shirts.  The olive drab Tee that Chase had put on outlined the muscles across his chest and abdomen and stretched around his amazing biceps.  He’d strapped one of Dawson’s long-bladed knives to his thigh and a second pistol hung from a belt around his waist.

He looked like a man she had never seen before.  Tall, hard-edged, hard-bodied, and determined.  He hadn’t shaved since they’d left Aruba and the dark gold beard along his jaw now joined the rough stubble on his cheeks, making him appear rugged and dangerous.  A looked like a man who could handle whatever he faced, exactly the right man for the job ahead of him.

It was exactly the wrong time for her to feel a shot of lust.

Kil Dawson closed the back of the cruiser while Chase walked around and opened the rear passenger door.  “You need to stay here,” he said.  “You’ve got a gun.  If you get in trouble, fire off a shot.  We won’t be far away.”

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