“Sullivan?” The guard’s eyes widened. “As in Sully Sullivan?”
“Just tell her.”
The guard nodded, then cleared his throat. “Marietta, the guest says her name is Sabrina Sullivan.”
A delighted squeal emanated from the intercom, then the cook instructed Fred to admit the guest right away.
“Go on up to the house, Miss Sullivan. Stay to the right—”
“I’ve been here before. Thanks.” Sabrina edged her car up to the gate and sped through as soon as it had opened.
He didn’t even ask you for identification, she told herself in amused disbelief. If Dad were here, he’d give that poor guy such a lecture!
It didn’t bode well for the state of affairs at Perimeter Security Incorporated, she decided. Apparently discipline had fallen apart after her father’s death. Hopefully they still knew how to run a background check, which was all she needed from them.
And security aside, she was relieved to see that the estate was as stunning as she remembered it, with the sound of waves crashing in the distance while the wind whistled through the twisted limbs of hauntingly beautiful Monterey cypresses.
The house that Perimeter built, she reminded herself, proud that her father had been part of Theo Howell’s phenomenal success. The story was a classic. Howell had come from modest wealth, eventually inheriting the family business—a burglar alarm company. In a stroke of brilliance, he had invested every dime—including a few borrowed ones—and had transformed the company into a full-scale security provider called Perimeter, utilizing sophisticated computers, state-of-the-art monitoring and highly trained bodyguards. Almost immediately, Perimeter gained global prominence, and in the years that followed, became the preeminent provider of security to corporations, dignitaries, movie stars and other assorted clients.
But not without some growing pains. Despite all the successes, Theo Howell and Perimeter had had three pivotal failures. The first—a bomb smuggled into a peace summit—had been a mixed blessing, leading Howell to recruit the brash young CIA agent who had disarmed the device just seconds before the timer reached zero. That agent, Sully Sullivan, thereafter revamped the company’s procedures, trained its staff and basically took it to even higher heights.
Perimeter’s second disaster, more than twenty years later, had resulted in the assassination of a client in the Canary Islands. Desperate to salvage the company’s reputation, Sully had rejoined forces with the CIA to bring the assassin—Pluto Zenner—to justice. Pluto had been killed resisting arrest, leading to the third and most tragic failure of all—the revenge taken by Pluto’s son, Adonis, against Sully.
For Sabrina, that was where the Perimeter story ended. She had no idea what had happened over the past five years. All she knew for sure was that Adonis Zenner had never been apprehended or punished for her father’s murder.
Coupled with the lax behavior of the guard at the gate, Adonis’s continued existence didn’t speak well for the caliber of Perimeter’s current staff, she decided grimly. But it was too late to turn back. Sabrina still believed she’d made the right choice in coming here, so she parked her red convertible alongside a black one at the curb of the circular driveway in front of the Howell mansion. Then she took the steps two at a time, reaching the front door just as Marietta opened it wide.
“Miss Sabrina!” The servant gave her a hearty hug. “I thought we’d never see you again.”
Sabrina returned the embrace. “It’s so great to see you. Are you in charge of the place these days?”
The dark-haired woman shook her head. “It’s just me and my husband now. Money’s tight for Mr. Howell. But we’re really all he needs. Sebastian does the gardening and driving. And I still do all the cooking, so don’t worry. I’ll put some meat on those skinny bones of yours in no time.” She studied the guest fondly, then asked, “Is it okay to call you Sabrina?”
“Absolutely.”
“What about Miss Michelle? Is she coming, too?”
“She’s on vacation.” Sabrina sighed. “We can visit in a little while, but for now, I’d better go see Uncle Theo. Was he shocked to hear I was back?”
“I didn’t tell him.” Marietta gave her a wide smile. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”
Sabrina laughed. “Let’s hope he’s not annoyed. You and that guard really shouldn’t have let me come up without permission.”
“He’ll be too happy to complain. Come on.” The cook headed down the hall toward Theo’s study.
Sabrina surveyed the entrance hall with wistful thoroughness. Nothing had changed. The same sweeping brass and oak staircase, oak flooring and vibrant red carpets. No furniture except for a brass table holding a vase filled with red roses.
She smiled, remembering how many times her sister Shelby—or Michelle, as she’d been called in those days—had knocked that table over as she’d raced down the stairs and around the corner toward the kitchen. They had spent hundreds of hours visiting and playing in this gorgeous home. Then suddenly it had become off limits, a part of a past that could never be revisited.
Until now.
“Miss Sabrina,” Marietta said, hissing slightly and motioning for her coconspirator to join her at the closed double doors at the end of the hall.
When Sabrina had complied, the cook opened one door and poked her head into the study. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here who needs to speak to you, Mr. Theo.” Without waiting for a response, she stepped aside and swept her hand back in Sabrina’s direction. “A ghost from the past. And more beautiful than ever. Come give your niece a hug.”
Sabrina stepped into the room and had to smile at the stupefied look on Theo Howell’s face. Striding over to him, she opened her arms, murmuring, “Hi, Uncle Theo. Long time no see.”
“My God,” he whispered, yanking her into a bear hug. “Sabrina! After all these years. Is something wrong?”
“No. Not really.” She stepped back and gave an apologetic smile, noting that he was a little grayer around the temples than she remembered—and ten or fifteen pounds heavier. And he had switched from tortoiseshell eyeglass frames to wire rims. But otherwise, he hadn’t changed a bit. “I was probably crazy to come here, but Shelby and I met a guy recently, and I want to run a background check on him, just to be on the safe side. Since I don’t have the kind of connections Perimeter has, I decided to come here for help.”
“A background check?” came an accusatory growl from the shadows. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Sabrina turned toward the unfamiliar voice. “Pardon?”
The speaker—a dark-haired man in his early thirties—shook his head in apparent disgust. “For five full years we don’t hear a word. Then you just show up? Asking us to run an errand for you? After you practically drove the company into the ground?”
“Zack,” Theo murmured. “Don’t.”
“No. Let him talk,” Sabrina countered, her gaze fixed on the stranger. “How did I hurt Perimeter?”
The young man glared. “You left us with no money. No manpower. No soul. We couldn’t contact you, even when we really needed to. But you can waltz in whenever you please, asking to use our connections? Like we’re your goddamned errand boys?”
Sabrina turned back to Theo and demanded, “Who is this clown?”
Theo gave a nervous chuckle. “Sabrina Sullivan, meet Zack Lansing. Zack took your father’s place at Perimeter.”
“What?” She took a step back, physically repulsed by the suggestion that this unpleasant upstart could ever take Sully Sullivan’s place. It was ridiculous. Her father