Alexander Death(50)

Jenny thought about the girl Seth had hooked up with in Charleston, the one that looked so much like Ashleigh that Jenny had thought, for a moment, that the evil girl had somehow cheated death and returned. Why would Seth have picked a girl like that, out of all the girls in the city, unless some part of him really wanted to be with Ashleigh again?

It hurt to think that her entire relationship with Seth had been a trick to get her under Ashleigh's control...but if anyone was capable of a manipulation like that, it was Ashleigh. The thought frightened her deeply, and left her feeling very alone.

“You're quiet,” Alexander whispered. “Falling asleep?”

He stood up.

“You don't have to go,” Jenny whispered. She reached out and took his hand. “Stay with me. But you have to let me sleep.”

“I'll stay.” He lay down beside her. Jenny kissed him, then wrapped an arm around him. She buried her face against his solid, warm chest, listening to his heart. And then she fell asleep, trying not to think about Seth.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN





Seth sat in the reception area on a wide, soft couch, looking at a portrait of Nathan Hale that glowed under track lighting. The other art in the room had cold, modernist designs without any meaning, but the framed print of the Revolutionary War spy held the most prominent place. The latest issues of Fortune and the Wall Street Journal sat on the coffee table in front of him. Elevator music played over the speakers—Seth could swear it was the song “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC, minus the vocals, played at one-tenth the usual tempo on a violin and piccolo.

He sipped the coffee the receptionist had served him. Behind her massive round granite desk, the receptionist looked like a beauty queen in a black blazer, not much older than Seth himself. She made good coffee.

Behind the slender blond receptionist, the words HALE SECURITY GROUP were mounted in sleek, metallic letters on the wall. The company was headquartered in Manhattan, but Seth was visiting their Atlanta office, since it was much closer to his home and he might need to make follow-up visits.

He didn't have an appointment, partly because he was cautious about using his phone when he knew Homeland Security might be monitoring him. He'd been waiting here almost an hour. He wondered if people in a back room somewhere were checking out his identity.

The heavy double doors at the back of the reception area opened themselves without a sound. Another ridiculously beautiful young woman in a black coat and white blouse emerged, her hair cut into a bob. She gave Seth a glowing smile that could melt ice caps.

“Mr. Breisgau is free to see you now, Mr. Barrett,” she said. “We apologize for the wait.”

“No problem.” Seth stood up and straightened his coat. He'd dressed in a dark gray suit with a muted earth-tone tie. He hoped he looked professional.

The young woman led him back into a midnight blue corridor with deeply piled carpeting. More modern art hung on the walls here, between office doors. Each office had a large, black-tinted window that revealed nothing about who or what was inside, though presumably the people in the offices could look out into the hall.

She led him past an empty assistant's desk, white and plain and curved into a semicircle. The wall behind it was floor-to-ceiling black-tinted glass, with a single door. She opened it and led Seth inside.

“Mr. Breisgau,” she said. “This is Jonathan Barrett.”

“Come on in.” The man who rose behind the desk might have been in his fifties, with silver streaks in his dark hair, but the solid form beneath his tailored suit looked like it belonged to a professional boxer. His hand gripped Seth's.

“Would you like coffee? Or water?” the young woman asked.

“I already had some, thanks.”

“Thank you, Misty,” Breisgau said. She closed the door behind her as she left. Breisgau's blue eyes locked on Seth's, and he offered a salesman's smile. “Have a seat, Mr. Barrett.”

“You can call me Seth.” Seth took one of the leather-upholstered chairs in front of the man's desk.

“Then call me Jerome.” Breisgau sat across from him. “Sorry about the delay. I was in a meeting. What can Hale Global do for you, Seth?”

“I saw you offer ransom and extraction services for people who've been kidnapped. Like those two oil executives in Nigeria last year.”

“You've done your research.” Breisgau shook his head. “Kidnap and ransom is a multibillion-dollar business around the world, unfortunately. And American businesspeople are the number one targets. Do you know somebody who's been captured?”

“Maybe,” Seth said.

“Maybe?”

“It's my girlfriend, Jenny.” Seth fought to stay calm. Just saying her name made him want to cry. “She disappeared a while ago. I think someone might have kidnapped her.”