Fatal Disclosure by Sandra Robbins

leave? Betsy’s necklace wouldn’t have brought much money in a pawn shop. And if they were after money, why didn’t they retrieve the dropped bag after he had been knocked unconscious? There were too many unanswered questions. Unless…
    Mark’s eyes popped open, and an icy fear washed over him. Perhaps robbery wasn’t the primary objective for the two. Maybe the men entered the store with another plan in mind and used the robbery to disguise their true purpose—to kidnap Betsy.
    The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. What he feared had come true. Whoever was after Betsy had almost succeeded. If those motorcycles hadn’t arrived when they did and distracted her abductors, Betsy might be dead right now.
    He had to be more attentive to what was going on around her from now on. He couldn’t let his guard down for a minute. It could be the difference in whether she lived or died.
    * * *
    He recognized the number displayed on his cell phone’s caller ID right away. He took a deep breath before answering. “Talk to me.”
    “Uh, there was a problem.”
    His fingers tightened on the phone. “What do you mean? Do you have her or not?”
    “No, you see…”
    His fist crashed down on his desk. “What happened?”
    “There was this guy with her, and…”
    “Did he have a gun?” he demanded.
    “N-no.”
    “But you did. How did he cause a problem against two triggermen who came so highly recommended?”
    “It all happened so fast we couldn’t do anything. He attacked Vern. Broke his arm. I had to knock the guy out so we could get away. We barely were able to shake the cops.”
    He ran his hand through his hair and groaned. “This is just great. Where are you now?”
    “At the boathouse, but Vern’s in a lot of pain. He needs a doctor.”
    “Well, he can’t see one until he gets back to the mainland. Stay in the boathouse until dark. Then I’ll send a boat to take you up the coast.”
    “Thanks.” There was a pause. “And I’m sorry about not getting the job done.”
    He exhaled a deep breath. “Yeah, me too.”
    He clicked the phone off and glanced across the room to the sofa where his assistant sat. “They didn’t get her.”
    Smoke curled up from the cigarette he held. He stared at the ashes forming on the tip of the cigarette and shook his head. “That’s not good news. What do you want me to do?”
    He stuck his hands in his pocket, walked to the window and stared outside. Several options were available, but the question remained which would be the best one for the organization. Much as he detested violence, he’d accepted it as a way of life among his new friends on the mainland. They weren’t the forgiving kind. They wouldn’t hesitate to come after him if he messed up this last shipment.
    If he was able to recover the information Betsy had and get the latest merchandise to the mainland, he wouldn’t have to worry about them breathing down his neck anymore. His cut would ensure his plan to retire and leave this island. Then he could disappear and live in luxury for the rest of his life.
    He took a deep breath and turned back to his assistant. “Pick up those two punks at the boathouse after dark and take them up the coast. Then I want you to get back here and take care of Betsy Michaels.”
    The man stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray on a table beside the sofa and stood. “Consider it done.”
    He watched his assistant walk out the door before he sank down on the sofa. Sometimes he wished he’d never gotten mixed up in the drug trade, but he had to admit it had been lucrative. This last shipment promised to be the biggest they’d ever handled. No way was he going to let Betsy Michaels ruin this for him.
    The important thing right now was to retrieve the information John Draper had given her no matter what they had to do. She could have saved herself a lot of trouble if she had done as she was told, but the Michaels girls had always been stubborn. And Betsy was worse than either