I grumbled. “Okay. Well, I have news, myself. My father’s lawyer gave me a letter at the reading of the will. I never opened it and shoved it in the glove compartment of my Jeep. After you and I talked last, I went to grab it, wondering if my father revealed anything to me. I vaguely remembered the envelope having some weight to it. Maybe he left the key and code to the safe deposit box in there? But the letter’s missing. I have to assume it was stolen.”
“Someone’s been watching you since your father’s death?” Jake exhaled. “Did you check with Mason? Did he get a letter, too?”
“Mason said his was a basic apology letter.”
“Then why do you think your letter had anything more in it?”
“Because Mason’s my younger brother, and he’s in the middle of a tour of duty. My dad wouldn’t lay anything heavy on his favorite son, not with him already in harm’s way in the Middle East.”
“Okay . . . Well, did anyone have access to your car?”
“There’s one person who had the keys to my Jeep, and I think there’s something going on between her and Declan. Can you look up a Lauren Tate? She’s the director of sales here at the company. I checked her file. She’s only been with the company since September—a month before the arrangement started between Declan and my father. And before that, she was getting her MBA. Kind of interesting that she’d go straight from college to a job as the director of sales, right?” I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “I’m new to this and all, but she needs experience for a position like that. Hell, all the other directors at the office are at least forty and have well over ten years of business experience.”
“Well, shit,” he drawled. “I don’t know why your father hired her, but I think it’s safe to assume she’s part of this in some way or another.” Jake was silent for a moment. “When did she have access to your Jeep, though?”
“Last week.” The night I bumped into Olivia.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“What? Why not?”
“If someone saw you put the letter in the Jeep after the reading of your father’s will, you really think they’d wait several weeks to snatch it? That’d be too risky. How would they know you didn’t open it before you put it in there? Or that you wouldn’t open it later . . .”
I lowered my head. He had a point, but what’d that mean? My chest tightened as I thought about various possibilities. “You think someone had eyes on me inside the lawyer’s office?” I tried to remember the building. The people inside. But my father had just passed away, and I wasn’t exactly paying attention to every man and woman I encountered that day.
“Where’d you go after you left the lawyer’s?”
My fingers twitched on my desk, and my mouth edged open. “Gambling in Atlantic City.”
“Your father passed away, and you went gambling?”
“I sound like a horrible person, but I don’t deal with things that well, and I was pissed at my father for dying—leaving before we ever had a chance to make amends. We’d barely spoken to each other in the decade since I’d left New York.” Jake didn’t know the full scope of my relationship with my dad. No one really knew, not even Mason.
I could hear him breathing on the other end; he was probably not sure what to say. Jake was never good at dealing with feelings. His or anyones. “I have to assume it wasn’t Lauren. Someone probably took the letter while you were at the casino. But I’ll still look into her and let you know what I find. I’ll be in town tomorrow.”
“You’re coming here?” I walked to the window, holding the phone tight to my ear. Dark, threatening clouds were gathering in the sky.
“Yeah, there’s more that I meant to tell you before we started talking about the letter. And it’s the reason why I want to come.”
I forgot all about the bad news Jake had previously mentioned having. “What is it?” I asked with a flicker of worry coloring my voice.
“Well, the thing is, your father’s driver booked a flight the day after your father died—to El Salvador. I looked at the flight manifest. He never made it on board.”
My skin prickled with worry, and my heart rate kicked up a notch.
“I made some calls. There are a couple unidentified bodies that match the description of Tyson, but most of them didn’t check out when the detectives got a look at his photo. One said his John Doe was in pretty bad shape—too hard to guarantee it’s Tyson based on the picture. But he went out on a limb to say it’s a possible match.”
“Damn.” I sat back down, needing to comprehend what Jake was telling me. “You think it’s him? You think Tyson was murdered?”
“I don’t know, but if it is him, I’m betting both your father and Tyson were killed.”
I shook my head. “But he died of a heart attack.”
“You and I both know that it could have been a drug-induced heart attack. They didn’t do an autopsy, right?”
“No.” Why would they? My father had a heart condition. “No one had any reason to think foul play.”
“True.” There was a long pause. “Have you packed up your father’s personal belongings?”
I hadn’t even set foot in my father’s penthouse on Park Avenue. Mason and I had agreed to put in on the market once I got around to packing it up. Neither of us wanted to live there. “I haven’t gone yet,” I said, feeling almost embarrassed to admit it.
A foreign pain poked my core, and the sensation grew until it transformed into a loud noise in my head. Like a banshee howling, followed by the words, “He’s dead.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the eruption of sadness.
Where had that come from? I still hadn’t shed a tear since his death, but I was on the brink of losing it. I could feel it. And if my father was murdered . . .?
“We should swing by there tomorrow. Was your father on any medicine?”
I shook off the layers of emotion that weighed me down. “I assume. He had a minor heartache two years ago and had a stint put in.”
“We can check for pill bottles. Someone may have swapped his pills. I doubt they’d put something in a drink because they wouldn’t be able to guarantee he’d consume it. But if your dad took pills on a regular basis, that’s definitely a start.”
“It could also be a waste of time. If someone swapped his pills, they wouldn’t leave evidence behind.”
“How’d your father get to the hospital? Who made the call? Who found him?” Jake rattled off questions, and I had to take a second to wrap my head around all of it.
“I don’t know.” I never thought to ask. “I’ll find out when we go to his place tomorrow.”
“I’ll also take another look at the bank cameras. It sounds more like there’s a connection between the bank and your father’s death. We can work on getting a court order for the box when I come. The only drawback with that is it will alert anyone who has been keeping tabs on you. They might take some sort of action if they think you’re going to get that box open.”
There had to be something damn near awful in that safe deposit box if my father and Tyson were killed for it. If I tried to open it, would they come after me? I could handle it if they did, but I also didn’t want to blow my chance of uncovering whatever craziness was going on. “Let’s hold off on doing that for now. We’ll save opening the box for when we know more about what’s really going on.”
“We can monitor the bank cameras from here on out, in case someone shows up trying to get access to the box,” Jake suggested.
“No one should be able to get the box open, even with the key and code. Only Mason and I are capable of opening it.” I tilted my head back. When I took over my father’s company, I expected paperwork and boring meetings, not to be caught up in the middle of shady deals and a murder investigation.
“You okay?”
No. Nothing about this was okay. My father was dead. My ex-girlfriend—I hadn’t mentioned that part to Jake yet—was either in league with the enemy or was about to get caught in the crossfires. I opened my e
yes and glanced at the text that popped up on my cell. Ben was still coming up empty, so it seemed. “Thanks for your help, man.”
“Connor, this is what we do. We have each other’s backs. Always.”
17
Olivia
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I increased the speed on the treadmill and ran harder. Faster. I couldn’t make it early enough to meet Bobby to spar in the morning, but I still needed to get in a workout. What a mess I was in.
My mind drifted to my conversation with Blake, and I jabbed again at the arrow button, increasing the speed once more. My feet slammed hard against the black rotating fabric as possible outcomes danced around in my head.
I couldn’t keep the truth from Connor. I couldn’t spin more lies.
If Blake found out I told Connor the truth, I could lose my job, which didn’t scare me. What terrified me was the idea of not putting Declan and Konstantin behind bars. If Connor didn’t sell the weapons to Declan, then Declan would just go to someone else.
There’d never be justice. Only more death.
I almost tripped and fell off my treadmill as my mind dipped into dangerous waters.
The thought of Connor behind bars flipped my stomach. Something had changed between us last night. Whatever anger he had with me, and I for him, had weakened.
We’d come so close to sharing my bed. Strange pangs of regret pulled at me. Of course I knew it was absurd to feel that way. It should’ve been the other way around.
My chest was near exploding from the intense run. Just as I tapped the buttons on the treadmill to slow down, I caught sight of Declan. It was lunchtime—his workout time. I was in no mood to talk with him. He’d probably press me about Connor if he saw me, and I was already getting that from Blake. I didn’t need two bossy men in my life pushing me where I didn’t want to go.
I hopped off my treadmill and started for the locker room, hoping Declan wouldn’t spot me, but he turned my direction just outside the doors that led to the private arena.
Ugh—eye contact made. There was no escaping him now. He beckoned me from across the room, and I rolled my eyes as I made my way to him. “Hey, Declan.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” His voice was smooth as silk, and it creeped me the hell out.
“Oh, well I was just heading to the showers.” I folded my arms across my chest, but realized I probably looked angry or bitchy, so I dropped my hands back to my sides.
“How about you watch me fight, instead?”
If that meant watching him get his ass handed to him, then I was all for that. But I could care less about whatever poor sap Declan had arranged to fight because I was pretty sure whomever it was would throw the fight, to ensure the master of the universe kept his head remaining in Mt. Olympus. “Who are you fighting?” I faked an interest.
“John Jackson. The pro-fighter.”
Of course. Declan had invested in the club John Jackson owned, not too long ago.
Memories jabbed at me as I thought about the club.
“Sure. I’d love to watch,” I finally responded.
“Declan!”
No. I turned around to see Connor approaching us.
“By the way, I invited Connor to come,” Declan whispered in my ear. His breath set my body trembling, and not in a good way.
Connor focused on me as he stopped in front of Declan and I. His facial expression gave no indication of his feelings as he stared at me.
I noticed his clean-shaven face and had to force myself to look at the floor for a brief moment.
Sexy with stubble, hot with a beard. And no beard with smooth skin? Groan.
I cleared the damn lump that had formed in my throat and swallowed the images—the memories—of Connor’s ripped body.
“Hi,” I think I said at some point. I cursed myself for allowing my mind and body to succumb to the strange, primordial urge to have sex with him. We had a horrible past. Not to mention I was supposed to screw him over and probably arrest him. What was wrong with me?
Declan tipped his head. “Ever seen this woman fight?” Declan nudged me in the arm.
I forced a small laugh. I was growing impressed with my ability to act around Declan, but why couldn’t I use those same skills when it came to Connor? “I’m not that good.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t believe that. I saw you handle that guy by the pool in Vegas. Remember?” Connor’s eyes remained laser focused on mine.
“Come on. Jackson should be here any minute, and I need to warm up before we fight.” Declan held the door open, and Connor gestured for me to enter first.
“Thanks,” I said as I walked into the empty boxing area. “Too bad Bobby isn’t around. He would love to meet a famous fighter. Is he a boxing champ?” I played dumb.
“UFC. Mixed martial arts champion,” Declan said brusquely.
Hopefully, at the very least, I could watch Declan get knocked out by the pro. I tightened the knot in my ponytail, realizing what a mess I must look like.
“You feel like getting your hands dirty?” Declan asked Connor as he removed his T-shirt. For the first time, I saw that his back was a canvas. Angel wings sprouted from each side of his shoulder blades; they appeared to move, to flap, as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, loosening up.
Declan, the fallen angel.
“I’ll help you warm up if you’d like. We can throw a few punches.” Connor stole a glance at me before removing his shirt. The man didn’t have any tattoos, but he didn’t need the paint. His back, his chest, his pecs were already works of art.
And my mind was drifting to dangerous territory again. If the sight of Connor’s body could reduce me to a puddle of girly hormones, what business did I have in being an FBI agent?
Then again, I’d helped the FBI take down a hitman in Boston last year. I needed to remind myself that I was also that woman—the woman who’d stared death in the face and come out on top. My first and only kill. And, I hoped, my last. Although the guy was a world-class felon and murderer, it was never easy to have blood on your hands.
The sound of a fist pounding into flesh brought my attention front and center. Connor’s gloved hand connected with Declan’s stomach.
Both men had abs of steel, but Declan was slightly leaner. Connor was a former Marine. He could handle Declan. I was sure of it. And I couldn’t help but stand just outside the ring, inwardly cheering him on.
“You ready to make the deal?” Declan asked Connor as he ducked away from one of Connor’s shots.
“I’m still thinking about it.” Connor’s answer surprised me—he had told me yes last night. Did he change his mind? Hope seized my heart, but how would I take down the entire evil empire without the help of intimate knowledge of the weapons exchange?
We’d just have to come up with a new plan.
“What’s holding you back?” Declan snuck an uppercut, but Connor jerked his head, saving himself a blow to the chin. They were both taking it rather easy.
“I’m not sure how I feel about making a deal when I don’t really know who else I’m doing business with.” Connor threw a right hook, followed by a left.
Declan dodged both and answered, “I’ll ask my contacts if they’re willing to meet with you if you sign the contract.”
I sucked in a breath at Declan’s words. A face-to-face!
“That’d be ideal.” Connor lowered his guard, and Declan took the chance to send a hard jab.
The sound of the punch smacking into Connor’s cheek had me cringing.
Surprisingly, Connor didn’t let it affect him too much. He sprang back at Declan with his own shot. “I don’t think we need these.” Connor’s eyes focused intently on Declan as he slipped off his gloves and held his fists up in front of his face.
Declan nodded and followed suit, but before either could take another swing, the doors to the room pushed open.
“Declan. My man!”
It must have been John Jackson, and he had two other men at his sides
. I took a step back, gasping, but tripped. My butt smacked hard against the concrete floor.
I grimaced and looked up at Connor’s hand reaching for mine, helping me up.
“Are you okay?” Connor stared at me like I was the sun and moon all rolled into one.
I focused on his sweaty chest for a moment, before pulling my eyes back up to meet his. “Yeah. Clumsy.”
He smiled and released my arm. “Guess the big shot’s here,” he joked in a low voice.
I tried to return his smile, but I was too nervous. I lowered my head and stared at my sneakers, hoping to avoid notice.
“Connor Matthews, meet John Jackson, lightweight champion of the world,” Declan said as he ducked between the ropes.
John Jackson was about six feet. His body was pretty fit but not too bulky, and his arms were banded in flashy tattoos. His head was shaved, his nose a little crooked, and his ears massively swollen from one too many punches. “Hey, man.” He slapped Declan on the back and nodded at Connor.
The two men who had entered the room with John Jackson both greeted Declan as well.
“You up for a few rounds?” Declan tapped John on the arm.
John’s eyes were on me, and I did my best to keep my balance, still terrified of being identified by the men who had come in with John. I’d known they were back in the city; I’d been expecting to see them at some point. I had just hoped they wouldn’t see me, too.
“And you are?” John angled his head and held out his hand.
“Just leaving.” I gripped his hand fast and hard before dropping my arm back to my side.
“You don’t want to stay for the fight?” John glanced at Declan.
“I’d hate to see my boss get beat up.” I couldn’t exactly go with “fighting isn’t my thing,” could I? That’d never fly. But damn, I needed to get out of that gym and fast.
“You should stay,” Declan said in a voice that was more a command than a suggestion.
Connor looked over at John. “Where are you from? Your accent . . .”
The Hidden Truths Series Box Set Page 59
