In the Heart of the Wind Book 1 in the WindTorn Trilogy by Charlotte Boyett-Compo Page A

those men, Mr. Tremayne, we’ll call for an extradition order from your governor. I would imagine he’s not in the employ of the Tremayne Group.”
    A hiss of fury came over the line. “What precisely are you intimating, Judge Lampiere?” Andrew growled. “I’ve told you my family did not have anything to do with kidnapping James.”
    “If not your family, then perhaps the family of his wife, Kristen Marie Connors Tremayne,” the judge shot back. “Either way, we’ll prosecute to the fullest extent of the law.”
    “If—” Andrew purred into the receiver. “—you can find the men who abducted him.”
    Terry Lampiere’s gray eyes narrowed into thin slits of pure dislike. Even though he couldn’t see the man to whom he was speaking, he’d already developed an intense image of the slick, just-one-finger-outside-the-law litigator. He was receiving vivid flashes of a hard, cold face, glittering eyes filled with the unholy light of victory, a thin slit of a mouth that was grinning with that victory even as it hissed its warning. The man’s next words made the judge draw in his breath.
    “You know James owed a lot of money to—shall we say, deadly people?—when he left Florida, don’t you, Judge Lampiere? I understand his gambling debts ran into five figures. These are men who don’t take running out on debts lightly.
    “I’m sure you also know James stole nearly a quarter of a million dollars from his father-in-law when he skipped the state. My father has repaid that money out of respect for James’ wife, Kristen. After all, James can’t be held accountable for what he did during that time to feed the expensive monkey on his back. And if he doesn’t have any of that money left to settle up his debt, the men who took him just might not ever give him back.”
    “Oh, we’ll get him back, counselor,” the judge bit out from between clenched teeth. “You have my word on that!”
    There seemed to be a light chuckle from the other end of the line, although Andrew Tremayne’s voice was perfectly steady and seemingly sincere.
    “I hope so, Judge Lampiere. For James’ sake, I certainly hope you find the men who abducted him. Our family will be praying for his safety.”
    If Terry Lampiere could have crawled through the phone, he knew his fist would be plowing down Andrew Tremayne’s throat by now. It took every ounce of his professionalism and control to level his voice and taper off his temper to answer Tremayne’s sugary remark.
    “If I  find out you had anything to do with Gabe’s disappearance—” he began, only to be cut off with Tremayne’s knife-through-hot-butter voice.
    “I’m sure you went to a good law school, Judge, and you have no doubt numerous years on the bench with which to grasp what I am about to say. You are perfectly aware kidnapping is a federal offense and those who are a party to it are as culpable as those who actually commit the crime. Yes, our family would like to have James back. He is quite incompetent to manage his own affairs. His bigamous marriage to a woman in Iowa is proof positive of that.
    “But, as you well know, we can’t serve papers for committal on him until he comes back into the state of Georgia. Once he does, we’ll have him picked up and remanded to a chemical dependency unit where, hopefully, we can help him kick his drug habit.”
    “Gabe James does not have a drug habit,” the judge snarled.
    “Gabe James might not,” Tremayne said in a reasonable voice, “but James Gabriel Tremayne certainly did. If you’d care to check, you’d see he was hospitalized in Florida several times for both alcohol and heroin addictions before my father had him transferred to a private clinic in Augusta.
    “If James managed to kick his addiction while he was out there, the family will be utterly thrilled, but until we have proof positive he has, that he is no longer a danger to himself or to anyone else, and that he’s fully capable of taking care of his own