Yield (Cal and Macy's Story 3)

Vindication floods through me. I am excited that I might have found exactly what we need to let Dee Switzer force the Carringtons to roll and take the plea deal.

The first thing I had Keith do was take the list of countries Luke Carrington traveled to and see if Emiel Coppens owned any properties there. He found a quick hit. A home Coppens owned in Lucerne. He slid a thousand bucks to a contact of his who data mined flight logs, finding out that Luke traveled to Lucerne at the same time Coppens did on two occasions prior to Macy's abortion.

I suspected Luke used Coppens' abortion services and because I knew Luke liked his girls young, I wasn't going out on much of a limb to think they were probably brought there against their wills to remedy a bad situation for Luke.

It was all supposition though, and there was really no way to get that information unless Keith could bribe someone else who knew what was going on. He was diligently working on that, but we did hatch one other plan to see if our suspicions were at least reasonable.

I directed Keith to approach Coppens, in public preferably, and to strike up a genial conversation. Get the guy to relax a little. Then I told Keith to drop the hammer on him, and that's apparently what he did today.

"How did it go down?" I ask him, wanting all the details so I could gloat over Luke's downfall when it comes.

"He goes to this little pub every night. Eats dinner at the bar. I sat next to him and had a few beers. We shot the shit like you suggested." I can envision it... Coppens just blabbering away at the friendly American tourist. "After about an hour, I just calmly asked, 'Did Luke Carrington refer his brother to you to do an illegal abortion?' Just like you told me to do."

When I hired Keith, I was very careful in what I shared with him. Even though he would be bound by confidentiality, I was never going to betray Macy's secrets, so I told Keith a bit of a lie. I told him I was representing some of the defrauded investors, who were going to bring a civil action against the Carringtons, and that I was looking for extra ammunition. I told him I came upon some information that the Carrington brothers were into some kinky shit, but I left Macy out of it.

"What did he do when you asked that?"

Keith snickers. "He almost fell backward off his stool, scrambling to get away from me. He was spooked big time."

"Sounds to me like they definitely know each other," I say with immense satisfaction. A major piece of the puzzle just snapped into place.

"Oh, that's still just conjecture, but I have proof they do," he says smugly.

"What? How?"

"When Coppens went to take a piss while we were at the bar, I planted a small bug in the satchel he was carrying. Even asked me to keep an eye on it while he was in the john. I couldn't resist the opportunity."

"That's totally illegal," I say but without a single ounce of chastisement. I wanted him to do whatever it took to get me the information.

"Totally illegal," Keith agrees happily. "I followed him home. Sat outside his house and listened. He wasn't inside thirty seconds before he placed a call."

"To Luke Carrington," I take a guess.

"Bingo. Told Luke what happened. Coppens was totally freaked out, and it took forever for Luke to calm him down. He asked a bunch of questions about me, and it was clear he was trying to figure out if I was part of an official criminal investigation or just a private investigator. He's a smart motherfucker."

"What do you think Luke suspects at this point?" I ask, because I didn't factor a call between the two men. I didn't want Luke to know he was under further scrutiny.

"He told Coppens I wasn't a cop for sure. That calmed Coppens down even more. Luke just told Coppens he'd handle it."

I silently digest this news. I'm fairly certain Luke would suspect I'm behind this, particularly after I whipped his ass last week. I saw him on the news walking into his building, and I almost got a boner when I saw the two black eyes he was sporting as he tried to shield his face from the reporters.

I'm not worried about myself, though. My concern is for Macy, particularly if Luke thinks she has anything to do with this.

Which she doesn't.

She has no idea I'm investigating her uncle, and I suspect she's not going to be happy about it when she ultimately finds out. I hate that's going to happen. It's going to cause a huge rift in our relationship, but I'm doing what I think is right. I'm doing what's best for Macy to protect her and get vengeance.

"What do you want me to do?" Keith asks.

"Start digging into Coppens. Find someone that knows his dirty business and tie it to Luke Carrington."

"This is getting pricey," Keith advises me.

"Then I expect you'll find something," I say before I hang the phone up.

Logging off my computer, I snap my briefcase shut and turn out the light on my desk. I have half an hour to get to my apartment to pick Macy up for dinner with Mac and Matt. I wonder if I'll recognize the ghosts I hired this afternoon to protect my woman. As soon as I hung up the phone with Keith, I contacted a private security firm and put a detail on Macy. They assured me they could handle the job without being seen, and for what I was paying, I was guaranteed two men outside of the apartment, around the clock, who would follow her wherever she went. They were armed and I was assured they were well trained, and I felt satisfied Macy was protected if Luke decided to go after her.

Waving goodbye to Janis, I thumb through my emails on my phone as I walk to the elevator. I see another text from Macy, smiling as I look at the lingerie laid out on the bed. She's been texting me all afternoon, wanting to know which ones I preferred. It's a maddening seduction, but I love it all the same.

My thoughts are preoccupied as I leave the building and head to the subway station at 59th and Columbus Circle. I descend the steps along with the throng of New Yorkers on their way home from work, and luckily catch a train just loading. I never drive my car around Manhattan and only use it to get out of the city. Any other day of the week, it's the subway for me.

I jostle along, pressed in on all sides by other commuters. I tighten my grip on my briefcase and just as I'm about to step onto the train, a pain hits me in my lower left back, so exquisitely sharp that it robs me of my breath. My spine arches and my hand automatically goes to where I can feel something sticking out of my back.

My knees buckle, and I start sliding to the ground. A woman behind me screams, "He's been stabbed."

More screams.

Running feet.

A voice right at my ear says, "This is the only warning you get," and then blackness overtakes me.

Chapter 17

From the Diary of Macy Carrington: Dear Diary, I only have a minute. Cal will be home any moment to get me, then we're meeting Mac and Matt for dinner. How normal and sedate is that?

Just a quick note since I haven't written in you all week. I'd just like to report that the reason I haven't written in you is because I've just been a little too busy being happy. I hope you understand.

Oops... the doorbell's ringing. Gotta go.

Love, Macy

Chapter 18

My throat hurts.

The beeping noise in the background is driving me insane, and I've been struggling to pull myself up out of what I believe may be a drug-induced fog.

The minute I manage to peel my eyes open and see the IV stand just over to my left, I immediately know I'm in a hospital.

I instantly remember I was stabbed.

I take a damn good guess that I had surgery.

Not bad for someone who's on the verge of slipping back into a drug-numbed sleep. My eyes start to close.

"You're awake," I hear, and my eyes snap open... fully alert.

Macy's face comes in to view. I expect the worry that's filling her gaze, and I understand the fear as well. But I see something else, and I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but it makes me uneasy.

"Did they get him?" I ask, but it comes out mostly as a croak.

Macy leans to the side, out of my vision, then she's back and pushing something against my lips. "Take tiny sips."

I suck gently at the straw, tepid water coating my tongue and sliding over my sore throat, and it's the best tasting water I've ever had.

"The man who attacked you ran. No one tried to stop him," she says, her lips pressed into a flat line. Her gaze keeps cutting over to my side so I turn my head to see Mac and Matt standing up against the wall, watching me guardedly.

Macy pulls the straw out of my mouth, setting the cup on the table beside her. She leans in closer to me, grabbing onto the hand that doesn't have an IV in it. She smells wonderful. I want to close my eyes and go back to sleep with the smell of her on me.

In me.

Surrounding me.

"You could have been killed," she whispers as she stares down at me. Her eyes are moist, her jaw trembling.

"How bad is the damage?" I ask, wondering why I really don't feel much pain. I'm assuming they've pumped me full of some heavy-duty narcotics.

"You're lucky," Matt says, and my head turns toward him. "Doctor says the knife managed to miss every vital organ. Just some muscle and tissue damage they stitched up internally and externally."

I turn back to Macy, her eyes no less worried but there is still something in her gaze... something a bit aloof. I squeeze her hand. "I'm fine. Just a mugging gone bad. Wrong place, wrong time."

But I know it wasn't a fucking mugging.