The Conspiracy Read online

  New York Times bestselling author Kat Martin raises the tension and the passion when family ambition turns deadly...

  Harper Winston’s brother has disappeared. Pursuing his dream of sailing the Caribbean, Michael hasn’t responded to texts or emails in days. When even the Coast Guard can’t find him, Harper is forced to take desperate measures. Which means going to Chase Garrett, once her brother’s best friend, now the only man she can trust...or so she hopes.

  As the successful owner of Maximum Security, Chase has learned to trust his gut. He knows Harper’s father is mixed up in a deadly business, and suspects there’s more to Michael’s disappearance than meets the eye. Getting involved again with the Winstons goes against everything he stands for, yet old loyalties die hard. As the case draws him closer to Harper and deeper into the Winstons’ snarled crime family, he is forced to put everything on the line to keep Harper safe...and both of them alive.

  Select Praise for Kat Martin

  “[A] master of suspenseful romance...Martin doesn’t hold back on the page-turning thrills or steamy love scenes.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Kat Martin is a fast gun when it comes to storytelling, and I love her books.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Linda Lael Miller

  “[Kat] Martin is a terrific storyteller.”

  —Booklist

  “It doesn’t matter what Martin’s characters are up against—she dishes up romantic suspense, sizzling sex and international intrigue.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “[A] suspenseful, emotion-packed page-turner... This nonstop, high-stakes adventure stands on its own.”

  —Library Journal, starred review, on Against the Edge

  “Martin has a consummate skill for developing the most loveable and the most despicable characters.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  Also available from Kat Martin

  Maximum Security

  Wait Until Dark (prequel novella)

  The Raines of Wind Canyon

  Against the Mark

  Against the Edge

  Against the Odds

  Against the Sun

  Against the Night

  Against the Storm

  Against the Law

  Against the Fire

  Against the Wind

  The Bride Trilogy

  Rule’s Bride

  Reese’s Bride

  Royal’s Bride

  The Heart Trilogy

  Heart of Courage

  Heart of Fire

  Heart of Honor

  The Necklace Trilogy

  The Handmaiden’s Necklace

  The Devil’s Necklace

  The Bride’s Necklace

  KAT MARTIN

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  The Conspiracy

  To my husband, Larry, for all your years of love and support. Thanks for a wild, wonderful ride.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  Chapter One

  Dallas, Texas

  She knew who he was. The only man at the gala in a black tuxedo and shiny black alligator cowboy boots. Chase Garrett. The man she intended to hire to help her find her missing brother.

  Harper Winston had known Chase since the day her father had thrown an obnoxiously extravagant party in honor of her sixteenth birthday.

  Chase had attended with her older brother, Michael. She had spotted Chase in a swimsuit standing next to the pool, tall, with a lean, hard-muscled body, whiskey-brown eyes and thick, dark blond hair. In the sun, it had gleamed like pirate’s gold.

  Aside from the close-trimmed beard along a jaw that had hardened with maturity, Chase hadn’t changed. He still had the perfectly symmetrical features of a movie star combined with a toughness that appealed to a legion of women.

  Now that she was thirty, Chase thirty-five, Harper still found him ridiculously attractive, though he’d never given her more than a passing glance.

  He didn’t notice her tonight, though she wore an elegant black strapless gown that hugged her slender curves and set off the pale blond hair she wore long and slightly turned under, framing her face. She glanced over to where he stood next to a stunning brunette, a successful lawyer in Dallas, the typical sort of woman Chase dated. Self-made career women, professors, bankers, stockbrokers. Not someone like her, the daughter of a wealthy Texas businessman, a woman who had attended Sarah Lawrence along with a bevy of other rich socialites from around the country.

  It didn’t matter that she was nothing like they were. That she hadn’t the least interest in society. Her interests lay in the business world, in Elemental Chic, the company she had started, a line of affordable, stylish and well-made casual clothing and accessories.

  She wasn’t cut out for teaching or social work, she had discovered during a year of volunteer work in South America, an adventure she had undertaken mostly because her father disapproved.

  Harvard Business School was where she was meant to be, she had grudgingly conceded. As her father had insisted and was eager to pay for—business being one of the few interests she and Knox Winston, a self-made multimillionaire, had in common.

  Unlike her father, Chase Garrett came from old money, which he disdained, though he and his two brothers had inherited a not-so-small fortune from Bass Garrett, Chase’s dad.

  Harper lifted a champagne flute off a passing waiter’s tray and took a sip. Chase might not notice her tonight, but he was the reason she was there. She hadn’t seen him in years, but when she had read in the newspaper that he would be attending the gala, she’d seized the opportunity. She wanted to see the man he had become, the man she would be facing tomorrow.

  It didn’t matter what he thought of her as a woman. She needed his professional assistance. Her brother was in trouble. She knew it deep in her soul. Mikey had disappeared, and Chase was among the few people she trusted to help her find him.

  Chase owned Maximum Security, a firm that specialized in private investigation, bail enforcement, personal protection, busin
ess and residential security. She had done her homework, knew he had offices in Phoenix and San Diego as well as here in Dallas. Chase was wildly successful, his reputation impeccable.

  No matter his opinion of her, he had once been a close friend of her brother’s, a man Michael trusted completely. She needed Chase’s help, and she was determined to convince him.

  She wouldn’t give up until she did.

  * * *

  Standing next to Chase, Marla Chambers, his date for the evening, took a drink of her martini. “You don’t look like you’re having a very good time,” she said. “Should I be insulted?”

  His mouth edged up. “Sorry. I was thinking about a case. I can’t seem to get it off my mind.”

  “The missing teenage girl?”

  He’d mentioned her earlier. He nodded. “Tammy Bennett. Her parents think she’s been kidnapped. They’ve managed to convince the police, who are in the middle of an all-out search. I think she’s a runaway.”

  “Are you working for the parents?”

  “No. I just happened to hear something on the street today. I’d like to check it out.”

  She eyed him with speculation. “And you’re wishing you were doing that now instead of being here with me.”

  He hated to admit she was right. His gaze ran over the attractive brunette he had been seeing for the past couple of weeks. He enjoyed Marla’s company. Enjoyed her in bed. But it wasn’t serious for either of them, and he kept thinking of the missing fourteen-year-old, a story that had been all over the news.

  “She’s just a kid. If my source is right, she’s in very big trouble, and I might be able to find her.”

  “I don’t suppose you could let the police handle it.”

  “I could. I need to check it out first, make sure the tip is real.”

  Marla shook her head, went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Then you’d better go.”

  “What about you? You don’t look like you’re ready to leave.”

  “I’m a big girl. I’ll stay awhile longer, catch a cab when it’s time to go home.”

  Chase set his scotch down on one of the linen-draped tables. “Thanks, Marla. I appreciate this.”

  “Call me tomorrow. Let me know what happens.”

  “If I’m right, you’ll see it on the news.” Chase left Marla chatting with a friend and headed for the door. As he made his way through the throng of elegantly dressed men and women, an attractive blonde caught his eye. Slender figure, porcelain skin, big blue eyes. She looked familiar.

  As the puzzle pieces slid together, he recognized her, Harper Winston, the younger sister of his best friend in college. As a teenager, Harper had been pretty. Looking at her tonight, seeing her for the first time in years, he realized she had grown into a beautiful woman.

  Unfortunately, she was a Winston. Her father, Knox Winston, was one of his least favorite people. Ruthless in business, his crooked dealings had made him a very wealthy man. But worse than his shady business enterprises was the mental abuse he’d heaped on his son, that had put Michael on a downward spiral into drugs. And effectively destroyed his friendship with Chase.

  Chase had steered clear of the Winstons ever since. He remembered hearing Harper had moved to Houston some years back. After that, he’d lost track of her and Michael, and he intended to keep it that way.

  Though he had to admit as he took in Harper’s sleek curves and shiny silver-blond hair, he wouldn’t mind taking her to bed.

  Even if the lady was of a similar mind, renewing his connection with the Winstons was the last thing he wanted. Besides, as he thought back on it, Harper had a reputation for being as cool and remote as she looked.

  On his way out the door, he passed her. For an instant, her gorgeous blue eyes slid over him, and Chase felt a jolt of heat he hadn’t expected. He wouldn’t pursue it. Sleeping with Harper Winston, no matter how good it might be, just wasn’t worth it.

  His thoughts returned to the task ahead, and Chase headed for the valet stand, a harsh October wind whipping against him on the way. He needed to get home and change. He couldn’t go to the Double Eagle dressed in a tuxedo—the bar was in Old East Dallas, one of the meanest sections of the city.

  Earlier that day as a favor to Jason Maddox, a PI in his office who was looking for a bail skip, he had contacted one of his sources. During the conversation, his informant had mentioned the missing girl. Bennie had figured the tip was worth money, and if it turned into anything, Chase would gladly pay him.

  It didn’t take long to reach the high-rise building on Pearl Street where he lived. He parked his silver Mercedes in the garage next to the brown Dodge Ram pickup he used for work.

  Taking the elevator up to the seventeenth floor, he stepped into the entry and crossed the high-ceiling living room. An oversize sofa in a nubby cream fabric, dark brown throw pillows and lots of dark wood gave the condo a masculine tone that suited him. Stylized contemporary Western art hung on the walls.

  With thirty-five hundred square feet of space, a spectacular view of the city, and a big terrace that opened off the living room and master bedroom, the condo was expensive and worth every dime.

  Changing out of the tux, he pulled on a pair of worn jeans, a frayed blue denim shirt and a pair of scuffed cowboy boots. He retrieved the little .380 he carried when he wanted a weapon he could easily conceal, clipped the holster onto his belt behind his back and pulled his shirttail down over it.

  It didn’t take long to reach the bar. The Dodge was ten years old, a few dents here and there, the paint a little faded, which helped it blend in. But the tires were new, and under the hood, the rebuilt engine ran like a scalded dog. He parked it on the street half a block from the bar and hoped the truck wouldn’t get jacked.

  Looking at the trash on the sidewalk, broken beer bottles, used hypodermic needles and drunks asleep in the gutter, part of him hoped his information was wrong and the girl wasn’t there.

  The other half hoped like hell she was.

  If he got lucky, maybe he could get her out of there.

  Chapter Two

  The Double Eagle smelled like sour whiskey and stale beer, the inside as run-down as the outside, with sagging wood floors, holes in the plaster walls, battered wooden tables and rickety chairs filled with loudmouth drunks.

  The neon beer sign behind the long bar didn’t work quite right, reading Shiner Cock instead of Shiner Bock, which seemed to entertain the patrons no end.

  There were women in the bar, some with men; a chunky older gal with a tattoo of a heart on her arm sat at the bar by herself. Looking for a customer, he suspected, without much luck.

  Chase spotted the teenage girl right away from the photos he’d seen on TV, Tammy Bennett, a petite blonde in a short, tight skirt sitting on a barstool next to a thick-necked dude with greasy shoulder-length black hair. The fear in her eyes was almost tangible, her body folded in on itself as if she were trying to disappear.

  Occasionally her glance darted toward the door, then shifted back to the big dark man beside her. She’d stumbled into some bad company with that one. The girl was clearly his latest money earner. No way was she going anywhere unless he said so.

  Chase walked up to the bar and ordered a Lone Star, took the bottle and sat down at an empty table. It was time to call the police, but the minute the guy pimping Tammy out heard the sirens, he would grab the girl and disappear.

  A chair scraped against the floor, and a fat man with sweaty armpits walked up to the man and the girl.

  “I got an itch, Martinez. How much for twenty minutes?”

  A guy down the bar said something about it being a quickie and disparaging the fat guy’s manhood. The fat guy grunted and Martinez laughed.

  Chase silently cursed.

  The men haggled, settled on a price and the fat guy handed Martinez a couple of folded bills, which got stuffed into th
e pocket of the pimp’s dirty shirt. When Martinez tipped his head toward the stairs, indicating the deal had been struck, Chase rose and walked up to the bar, blocking the fat man’s way.

  “I want the girl,” he said to Martinez. “I’ll pay for the whole night—whatever she’s worth. But I don’t take sloppy seconds.”

  Martinez looked him over. Clearly Chase wasn’t one of the locals. “You’re not a cop, are you? You look like a cop.”

  “Not a cop.” He let his gaze wander salaciously over the girl, ignored the poor kid’s cringe. “I just have a taste for something a little more...tender, shall we say.”

  Martinez pulled the fat man’s money out of his pocket and handed it back. “Sorry, Bud. Gotta make a living.”

  “Wait a minute! I seen her first.”

  “Come back tomorrow night.” Martinez gripped the girl’s slim arm and hauled her over to Chase. “You better have the cash.”

  “I can pay. Name your price.” Martinez rattled off an exorbitant sum, and Chase handed the money over.

  Taking the girl’s arm, he led her toward the stairs. Tammy pulled back, clearly reluctant, but one glance at Martinez and she kept walking, her legs shaking with every step. Chase hadn’t missed the bruise on her cheek.

  He tugged her up the stairs, didn’t pause until they reached the landing out of sight. “Don’t be afraid. I know who you are. I’m here to help you.”

  She looked up at him with wide, doe-brown eyes that flooded with tears. “You mean it?”

  “You can trust me, Tammy.” He could tell she wasn’t sure she should believe him, but he was her only hope.

  As soon as they got into the cheesy bedroom, he pulled out his cell and called 9-1-1, identified himself and gave the police his location, told them he had found the missing girl.

  “I made a mistake,” Tammy said tearfully when he ended the call. “That man downstairs...he found me and made me go with him. He made me do things...” She swallowed and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I just... I want to go home.”

  “My name’s Chase Garrett. I’m a private detective. I’m going to get you back to your parents, Tammy. We just need to sit tight till the police get here.” He glanced at the sagging mattress, the orange bedspread covered with cigarette burns. He didn’t want to think what Martinez had made her do.