The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) by Brad Magnarella (best business books of all time txt) 📕

where a multi-colored heap of Legos were scattered across a couch. “And when I come out, the door broken, and—and—and—”

Her voice seemed to stick as she wrung a ball of stained tissues in her hands.

“And what, Camilla?” Vega seized her shoulders.

Camilla managed to swallow, which opened the pipes to more sobbing. “And they gone, Ricki. I run out, but men already at staircase. Door close behind them. By time I get there, I can no see them.”

“What did the men look like?” Vega asked.

“Too far away. Too dark. Light by staircase still broken.”

“Did you go to a window? Did you see what kind of vehicle they left in?”

Camilla shook her head in anguish. “Oh, God. I so sorry, Ricki. Oh, Jesus.”

I watched the whole exchange numbly, knowing full well who had taken her son and why. I hadn’t been able to steer Vega from the Towers. I hadn’t kept her chasing Arnaud’s so-called leads. Worse, three of his blood slaves had been killed. I examined my skinned and swollen middle finger, which I’d managed to put some healing magic to on the ride here. Knowing Arnaud, he would feel perfectly justified having Tony slaughtered as retribution for his losses. The vampire had committed acts more heinous in his time.

“All right,” Vega said, sitting Camilla on the couch. “I’m going to call it in as a kidnapping. Hoffman, I want you to canvass the neighborhood, see if anyone might have seen Tony being carried down the street or put in a vehicle. I’ll start a search by car.”

With practiced eyes, Vega scanned her walls of framed photos, no doubt looking for the most recent image of her son. “Take this,” she said, removing a close-up of Tony’s smiling face and handing it to Hoffman. He stared down at it gravely, nodded, and left the apartment.

Vega was pulling her phone out when I heard myself speak.

“Detective, wait.” I cleared my throat. “I know who took him.”

Vega stopped scrolling and looked up at me. “What?”

“I know who took your son.”

Without moving her gaze from mine, she said, “Camilla, why don’t you go lie down? Use my bedroom. Close the door behind you.”

“Yes, Ricki,” she said, sniffling and sponging her nose.

When the bedroom door closed, Vega stepped toward me, eyebrows knifing down. “Start talking, Croft.”

“Earlier today, when I met with Arnaud, he gave me the job of keeping you away from Ferguson Towers. He didn’t say why. If I failed or told you what was up, he threatened to take your son.”

“Is that what those leads were about?” Vega’s voice sounded distant, dangerous.

“Yeah.”

“And it never crossed your mind to clue me in.”

“Of course it did, but he said if you changed your son’s routines or put any kind of extra protection around him, he would know.”

“So you’ve been working against me this whole time.”

“I wouldn’t put it in quite those terms. And it wasn’t like I had a choice.”

“What else did he offer you?”

I swallowed. “What?”

“If you had told me yesterday, I could’ve figured something out. I could have worked the Towers case from a distance and kept my son safe.” Her voice faltered for the first time.

Even though I felt like the world’s biggest asshat, my throat tightened defensively. “Look, when I met with Arnaud, he exuded this mind-fogging toxin. He practically fumigated his office with it. I couldn’t think straight. I agreed to his terms because I couldn’t see another way out.”

“And he didn’t promise anything else?”

Such as what became of your dear mother.

“No.”

She searched my eyes, then turned toward the bedroom. “Camilla,” she called, “stay here. I’m going out.”

“Yes, Ricki,” came Camilla’s muffled voice.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

At the door, she checked her service pistol. “To make Arnaud tell me where my son is.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I hustled after her into the hallway. “Do you think he’s just going to let you into the Financial District? Let you up to his office? There’s a reason he’s built a fortress around himself.”

“I could give two fucks.”

I caught up to her at the door to the stairwell and seized her arm. She stiffened. “You don’t release me in the next second,” she said, “and I’m breaking the rest of your fingers.”

“Just stop and think about this. You’re scared, you’re angry—I get it. But what you’re talking about is only going to get you killed. Or turned into something. Then where will your son be?”

“Let me go, Croft.”

“I’ll use magic if I have to.”

“Do that and I really will arrest your ass this time.”

“I have an idea,” I said, working it out as I spoke. “Something far more likely to get results. Something much safer for you and your son.” I released Vega carefully, unsure whether she was going to resume her determined march or drive a fist into my face. I could see both impulses in her eyes.

“Talk fast,” she said.

“We meet with Arnaud through one of his blood slaves. See what he wants.”

“And where in the hell are we going to find one of them? Three are dead and at least another two took off with Tony.”

“Arnaud still has an interest in Ferguson Towers, which tells me he’s still keeping eyes on you.”

She took a second to absorb the info. “We’ll see.”

We descended the stairwell to the lobby and pushed open the steel door to the street. Bits of the lock littered the stoop where the blood slaves must have forced their way in. I peeked over at Vega, who was peering up and down the deserted sidewalk, eyes dark and mercenary. Since receiving the call in the storm line, she had maintained a rock-hard composure, the dials of her maternal instinct to protect all locked on ten.

Guilt burned through me as I considered my recklessness. I had gambled with Vega’s son and lost, goddamn me.

“Where are they?” she demanded.

I cupped a hand to the side of my mouth. “Arnaud!” I called into the night. “We’re here to do as you say!”

My words had barely echoed away when, down the block,