If so, why hadn't he just locked her in the suite? Or told her not to leave. After her encounter with Drake on the beach yesterday, he must have known she wouldn't be in any hurry to go out by herself again.
No. There was something else going on here. She really didn't think the man who had locked her in this room had been working with Daniel at all. She would be willing to bet everything that he was one of Drake's men.
Which meant that Daniel didn't know where she was. He would be worried about her—and that meant he couldn't concentrate on whatever he was doing with Drake. Which, she thought with a sinking feeling, was probably the whole point.
Drake must have figured out—or at least suspected—that Daniel wasn't being entirely up front with him in their shady dealings. Was grabbing her his way of ensuring Daniel's cooperation? If so, they had done a good job of convincing everyone they were really married.
And she, B.J. thought with a groan, must have done a very good job of making everyone believe she wasn't very bright. That she would simply walk into a storage closet if someone told her to.
“Stupid, stupid!”
She wouldn't entirely blame herself. Daniel should have told her who to expect. Given her some sort of password or something. He knew Drake better than she did; he should have expected an underhanded move like this from Creepy Guy.
But she was the one who had gotten herself locked in a closet, she thought with another low groan.
The door rattled, and B.J. jumped to her feet, braced for trouble. She'd had some lessons in self-defense; she would fight if she had to.
“B.J.” Ingrid peeked cautiously into the room. “Are you in here?”
B.J. rushed toward the door. “Ingrid? Yes! I'm here.”
Ingrid stepped inside the storeroom, leaving the door ajar behind her. “I thought it was really weird when I saw Paul leading you into the back hallways of the building. I started following—because I'm just nosy sometimes, but I had this feeling I needed to know what was going on. Then when Paul pushed you in here and locked the door, I ducked out of sight and waited for him to go away. I'm sorry, but it took me a while to find a key to let you out.”
“Oh, Ingrid, thank you.” She spontaneously hugged her.
“I couldn't believe what he did,” Ingrid said indignantly. “I know Judson was behind it. I'm sure he was flexing his muscles around your husband. Judson gets off on power, you know—and if he thought he could get something more from Daniel by snatching you, he wouldn't even hesitate.”
B.J. would have liked to ask why Ingrid would sleep with the man when she knew so many bad things about him, but that was really none of her business. Maybe Ingrid would demand better for herself from now on—at least, B.J. hoped so. In the meantime, she needed to find a way to let Daniel know she was all right.
“I must find my husband,” she said, moving toward the door. It occurred to her that it grew easier all the time to refer to him that way.
Ingrid caught her arm. “Wait.”
Impatiently B.J. tried to shake her off. “But I have to—”
“B.J., something's going on out there. I saw some things when I was looking for a key.”
“What did you see?”
Ingrid spoke in an urgent whisper. “I think there's been a raid or something. Cops, you know? I saw Bernard in handcuffs, being shoved into a big, dark car. I'm—I'm really sorry, B.J., but I think Judson and Daniel are in trouble.”
B.J.'s head was starting to pound. “We need to go find out what's going on.”
“Oh, I, uh—”
Seeing the trepidation in Ingrid's expression, B.J. sighed. “Okay. I'll go see what's going on. You go back to your room and pack. If Drake's been arrested, you'll probably want to leave the resort rather quickly. I assume you have someplace to go?”
“Oh, sure. I've got a nice apartment in L.A.”
B.J. wouldn't ask how Ingrid afforded a nice place in Los Angeles. “Fine. Make a good life for yourself, Ingrid. And thank you again for letting me out.”
“Yeah, sure. I owed you, you know? Maybe we'll see each other again sometime?”
“Maybe we will.” With a quick smile, B.J. turned and hurried down the hallway that led past a laundry room—the same hallway through which she had obligingly followed Paul earlier.
It was an indication of how meticulously Drake's employees had been trained that there was little pandemonium at the resort even through the boss had been led away in handcuffs. B.J. heard people talking about the scandal as soon as she reached the lobby of the main lodge, but the staff seemed to be carrying on with their responsibilities, if only because they didn't know what else to do.
She headed for the front desk, intending to ask if anyone knew anything about Daniel. A hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks.