He shot a hard glare at Harper. “I thought you said you were through with him.”
“Take it easy, Knox,” his attorney soothed before she had time to answer. Bernstein rested a hand on his client’s thick shoulder, then walked over to Chase and extended a hand.
“I’m Miller Bernstein. I’ve seen you and your brothers at various social functions, but I don’t believe we’ve ever been introduced.”
Chase shook the man’s hand, ignoring the twinge of pain the motion caused. “Chase Garrett.” Knowing the effort would be futile, he didn’t extend the gesture to Winston.
Harper smoothed the front of the brown plaid, calf-length wool skirt she wore with a pair of brown boots. “You wanted to see me, Dad, so I’m here.”
“Thank you for coming, Harper. I wanted you to understand what’s going on.”
She tucked shiny blond strands into the tight knot of hair at the nape of her neck as she sat down at the table.
Her gaze went to her father. “Before you start, I want you to know I’ve seen the news. I know you’ve been arrested for cocaine smuggling—among numerous other charges. I can’t imagine what you could possibly have to say, but I’m listening.”
Winston leaned back in his chair, a big man, still imposing though he was somewhere close to sixty. “I’m innocent, Harper. All those charges are nothing but a pack of lies. The government will do anything to bring down a successful man like me. I’m innocent.” He flicked a glance at his attorney. “It’s Miller’s job to prove it.”
Harper shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying, what he expected her to believe.
When she made no reply, Chase spoke up. He hadn’t bothered to take a seat. “I realize you’re having your own set of problems, Winston, but the police must have told you about the attack on your daughter. Harper was abducted during a fire that destroyed her town house. There was a shoot-out and a car chase—where, fortunately, she managed to escape.”
“Chase and Jason Maddox ran the car I was being held in off the road,” Harper said. “If it hadn’t been for them, I might be dead by now—or worse.”
“I heard you had some trouble,” Knox said, as if they were talking about a flat tire. “I was told you came out of it all right.” Like Bass Garrett had been, Knox Winston was a powerful man. Not much happened in Dallas that Knox didn’t know about. Especially if it involved his daughter.
“Chase believes the men who came after me are connected to the men who kidnapped Michael in Colombia. They think whoever did it came to Dallas to kidnap me.”
Winston pushed up from his chair, anger riding hard on his thick shoulders. He drilled Bernstein with a glare. “You understand what I’m going to say is attorney-client privilege.”
“Of course, Knox, but Mr. Garrett isn’t bound by—”
“Whatever you say in this room goes no further,” Chase said. “You have my word on that.”
“Why should I believe you?” Knox asked.
“You knew my father. His word was gold. So is mine. More important, I want your daughter safe.”I love her.But he had only just figured that out and it wasn’t the time or place. “I can’t protect her unless you help me find a way to deal with the men who are after her.”
Winston sat back down, and Harper laid her hand over his where it rested on the table. “Can you help me, Dad?”
Winston’s face flushed with angry heat and his jaw hardened. “Luis Montoya.” He spit out the name like a curse. “Montoya wants revenge. We had a...business arrangement. There were problems. Montoya went after Michael as retribution—the penalty for my going against him. We talked while you were in Colombia. I explained what happened, and we agreed to continue working together. I thought I had things straightened out.”
He looked up at Chase. “I knew you were down there with Harper searching for Michael. I figured if anyone could bring the boy back, it was you. You found him and brought him home, and I thought the problem was solved.”
“Apparently not,” Chase said dryly, barely able to keep the disgust out of his voice. “The question is what do we do to stop him before Harper gets hurt?”
“Fucking Montoya. The bastard goes after something, he doesn’t quit until he gets it.” Winston rose and paced over to the window, turned back. “I’ll call him, see if there’s some kind of deal, something I can give him in exchange for my daughter.”
Chase clamped down on his temper. He wanted to tell Knox Winston that Luis Montoya didn’t own his daughter and never would. But he needed Winston’s help.
“You have to take care of this as soon as possible. Harper’s life is in danger every second you delay.”
“Give me your number,” Winston said. Chase rattled off his cell number, and Winston punched it into his phone. Then Chase plugged in Winston’s personal number. It felt odd exchanging information with his father’s lifelong enemy, a criminal he was helping bring to justice.
“You ready to go?” Chase asked Harper.
She rose from her seat at the table. “I’m ready.” She turned to her father. “Goodbye, Dad.” There was a note of finality in her voice Chase hadn’t expected. He settled a hand at her waist and urged her toward the door. His chest still ached, but gaining Winston’s cooperation made him feel better.
They rode the elevator to the lobby in silence, crossed the polished marble floor and walked out of the building. They didn’t talk on the way back to his condo. As he pulled into his parking space in the garage and turned off the engine, Harper’s cell phone started to ring.
