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Chet spoke for the first time. “Maybe I should go, too.” He held out his hand for the piece of paper, and Vanessa handed it to him with relief. “I don’t even remember answering the door, but...” He shrugged. “I might remember something under hypnosis.”
Mei-li pretended to consider Chet’s suggestion, but this had been her intention all along—she’d deliberately maneuvered Chet into volunteering by pushing Vanessa into a corner. “Not everyone is susceptible to hypnosis,” she said doubtfully. “But if you insist...”
“I insist. It might be our best shot.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay, I guess. It can’t hurt. Patrick can take you both.”
“When?” The question came from Vanessa.
“The sooner, the better. I already called both people I mentioned. My friend, the sketch artist, will be home all morning. And the hypnotist is available anytime after noon today.”
“What about the typhoon?” Vanessa asked as if she were grasping at straws. “I mean...won’t there be... I don’t know...cleanup or something going on?”
Rafe spoke. “Mike and I got here this morning, no problem. Yeah, there’s some debris around, and some standing water, but trains and buses are running on schedule, and traffic seems to be unaffected.”
Vanessa turned to Dirk. “Is it okay, Mr. DeWinter? Are you sure this is what you want us to do?”
“Miss Moore’s the expert,” Dirk said, slanting a look at Mei-li that told her he knew what she was doing and why, and approved. Not only approved, but admired the adroit way she’d accomplished her goal.
“Not an expert,” Mei-li quickly demurred. “Not with this kind of kidnapping.” She’d set the stage with Vanessa and Chet in the restaurant last night—just as she’d warned Dirk she would—that her experience didn’t encompass this. “All I can do is follow the procedures that have worked in the past.”
Her intent gaze moved to Patrick, who got the message and quickly stood. Patrick’s rising was the catalyst for Vanessa and Chet, who rose from the table. “I’ll just get my purse,” Vanessa said nervously. “I’ll be right back.”
* * *
Mei-li finished her breakfast in silence, waiting until Vanessa and Chet followed Patrick out of the suite. Then she turned to Dirk. “It’s up to you,” she said, indicating Mike and Rafe with her hand.
Dirk knew she was referring to how much to confide in his family’s other two bodyguards and was torn. On the one hand, he trusted these men—or he had, until yesterday. They’d done a damn fine job protecting Linden and Laurel in the past. Not only keeping them safe, but keeping the paparazzi away—almost no pictures of his daughters had ever appeared in the tabloids, and it hadn’t been for lack of trying. On the other hand, he’d trusted Chet, too, and Vanessa. And while nothing had been proved against any of them...
Mike spoke for Rafe and himself. “We’re not naive, Mr. DeWinter. It reeks of an inside job. And if I were you, I wouldn’t trust us any more than you trust Chet.”
“Or Vanessa,” Rafe threw in.
“Or Vanessa,” Mike agreed.
Rafe turned to Mei-li. “That was slick, how you got them out of the way.” His tone held admiration. “Mike and I,” he continued, “we want to help any way we can. But we realize maybe the best way we can help is to stay out of it.” His right hand curled into a fist, Dirk saw, and the fierceness in his dark eyes conveyed a message Rafe probably wasn’t even aware he was sending.
Rafe focused his attention on Dirk again. “I never guarded anyone as young as your daughters before,” he said. “And, to be honest, when I first came to work for you, I wasn’t too happy about it. I’d worked for a famous actor before—he was one of my references, remember?” Dirk nodded. Rafe’s previous employer was an actor who lived life on the edge, who ran with a wild crowd. But he’d been sorry to lose Rafe—Dirk remembered that—and he’d given Rafe a glowing reference.
“I really didn’t want to be around that kind of lifestyle—guess you could say I’m kind of old-fashioned that way. But I needed the job,” Rafe continued, “so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. And it wasn’t at all what I expected. Your little girls, well...” He glanced at Mike. “They’re like our own now. We’re with them all the time, more than you.”
Dirk started to respond, feeling as if there was a criticism buried in that statement, but Rafe stopped him. “Yeah, you work for a living, same as us, we get that. But our jobs are keeping your daughters safe, which means we’re always with them.” Rafe’s face hardened, and his eyes turned cold. “So whoever took them...all I can say is, God help them when Mike and I find them, ’cause nothing else will.”
