Read A Brewing Storm: A Derrick Storm Short for Free Online

you’ve got six million in cash in a safety deposit box and you can’t tell the FBI about it.”
    “Yeah, and they also know about you, Mr. Steve Mason, or whatever your real name is.”
    “They seem to know an awful lot.”
    “We got a leaky faucet,” Windslow said.
    “Any idea who?”
    “No. I’ve been going over names since the note arrived.”
    “How about Samantha Toppers?”
    “Samantha?” Windslow repeated, breaking into a toothy grin. “That girl’s bra size is twice her IQ. She’s not smart enough to be involved in this. Where would she find four men to kidnap Matthew? Kidnappers don’t advertise on craigslist. Besides, she’s a trust fund baby. She’s got no need for my money.”
    “My experience has been that the richer you are, the more you want. The kidnappers have asked her to deliver the ransom twice now. Why her?”
    “She loves Matthew and she isn’t going to take my money and disappear. I told you, she’s loaded. Her parents died in an accident and left her millions. Besides, she’s not exactly a threat to them since she’s so puny. ”
    “Could she and your stepson have dreamed up this entire scheme?” Storm asked. He watched Windslow’s face for a reaction. Surprise. Anger. Anything. But there was nothing, and that suggested the senator had already considered the idea.
    “Matthew is too vain to let someone pull out his four front teeth,” Windslow said. “Also, the safety deposit box is in his name, and he knows I can’t complain in public if that cash vanishes. He could have gone in and taken it without faking his own kidnapping.”
    “What about your congressional staff? A disgruntled employee, maybe?”
    “Haven’t fired anyone in years, and only a couple of them know Matthew is missing.”
    “That leaves only two other people who could’ve tipped off the kidnappers about my arrival last night,” Storm said. “You and your wife.”
    Windslow smirked. “Why would I kidnap my stepson and demand six million in cash—money that’s already mine.”
    “That narrows it down to your wife.”
    Windslow set down the coffee mug that he’d been cradling. “I’m going to tell you a story. A year ago, I had a heart attack and it almost killed me. Gloria never left my side. She nursed me back to health. By that time, we’d been married for nearly twenty years. Marrying a younger woman caused tongues to wag. Everyone thought Gloria was a gold digger waiting for me to die. But that woman really loves me. She proved it when I got sick. After I recovered from my heart attack, I tore up our prenuptial agreement. If I kick off today, Gloria gets everything and that’s more than the six million walking around money that these bastards want. Besides, Gloria wouldn’t put her son through this. She spoils that kid rotten.”
    “Where’s the leak then?” Storm asked.
    “Why are you assuming it came from my turf? Those instructions—telling us to divide the money into four piles so they can be delivered at four different sites—that sounds like something the CIA would dream up.”
    “Jedidiah Jones?”
    “Son, I’ve been dealing with the agency for a long, long time, and you never can be certain what Jones and his buddies are doing. For all I know, Jones could be playing some sort of game here.”
    “I owe my life to that man.”
    “That don’t mean he wouldn’t use you—to get to me.”
    “For what reason? Why would he risk kidnapping the stepson of a U.S. senator on U.S. soil?”
    Windslow shrugged. “All I’m saying is he’s the one who brought you here, and he has contacts with plenty of ex-military who would know how to pull off a kidnapping. Plus, the kidnappers want you riding around with my money.”
    “Motive? Jones could steal millions at his job. He doesn’t need to rip off you.”
    “Maybe he’s got other reasons.”
    “Since you’ve opened that door,” Storm said, “what’s the covert mission that you and Jones are fighting about?”
    A flash