It Takes Two

by Allie K. Adams

  “I never use it unless I’m stuck at a lunch with my VPs. That’s when I noticed it missing. Accounting always reconciles at the end of every month.” She didn’t like where this was going. “Why are you asking about my corporate card? What’d you find?”

  “A car.”

  She choked on her coffee. “What?”

  “According to the receipt, you purchased a car on your corporate card last week.”

  “No. No! Who buys a car on a credit card, let alone a corporate card?”

  “Or hands it over to the hitter,” he muttered.

  He may as well have screamed it in her ear, it hit her that hard. She set the cup on the table before the shaking in her hand caused her to drop it. Staring at the steaming liquid, she asked in a trembling voice, “Are you saying my card purchased the car that nearly ran me down?”

  “I’m saying whoever stole your card purchased the car that nearly ran you down,” he corrected, like that somehow softened the blow. “Bree, do you understand what that means? In addition to whoever stole the money using it to hire the hitter—I talked to Rand last night—we have another, bigger issue.”

  “What’s bigger than finding who’s trying to kill me?”

  “Nothing.” His voice was soft, thick as he lifted his cup. Regret filled his gaze, clouding those blue eyes she adored. What wasn’t he telling her?

  “I don’t believe you.” She knew better than to trust him when he looked at her like that. That alone said far too much about how well they knew each other.

  “Do you remember sophomore year?’ He cleared his throat, a telltale sign of his nervousness. “You got a B on your math test and thought it was the end of your world.”

  “That was nothing compared to me being called into Principal Kopek’s office when he accused me of cheating to get the B.” She’d never been so mad. It wasn’t the B that’d had her ready to take on the principal, the school, and the town of Anacortes to prove her innocence. It was Sherrie Callow. They were supposed to have been friends. “I never thought Sherrie would say I sold her all the answers.”

  “Pretty shitty thing to do to a friend.”

  “Some friend,” she laughed hollowly. “I guess you just never know who’ll turn on you given the opportunity.”

  His expression grew somber as he lifted his gaze. Not just somber. His beautiful features were deeper, hardened with an emotion she rarely saw in him. Rage. Jeremy may be many things. Arrogant. Hard-headed. Even unsure of himself at times. But he was rarely angry enough to show it, at least not to anyone but her. “TREX believes whoever took the money and hired the contract killer is someone inside Goggles. It’s someone you know.”

  That little tidbit of betrayal hit harder than anything thus far. It took several seconds to recover as she swallowed over and over, fighting the quiche as it pushed to resurface. “Who?”

  “We don’t know,” he growled and removed his glasses to fiercely rub his eyes. After he replaced his glasses, he added, “We believe the vote last night put something into motion. What, we don’t know.”

  “That’s a whole lot of don’t knows.” She breathed in roughly, struggling with the news that someone she knew wanted her dead. Was she really that bad of a person? What pushed a person to kill? What pushed a person to pay to have someone killed?

  “I know.” Regret filled his voice. “I’m sorry, Bree. I wish I knew, but I don’t. The only thing I do know is that I’m not leaving your side until this is over. One way or another, we end this, and we end this together.”

  “At least I can count on you not trying to kill me.” Only shred her from the inside out. “And when this is over? What then?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “More don’t knows. Awesome. On that positive note,” she said and pushed away from the table to stand. It took her several seconds to recover from his cool delivery. It was like he didn’t even care how much he was hurting her with every word he said. “I’m going to take a shower, if that’s okay with you. Or does that break your rule on keeping things platonic as you stay by my side?”

  “This isn’t about us. I’m only trying to protect you. It’s my job. We agreed.”

  “That, we did.” She smiled sweetly to mask the pain his icy words inflicted. “Actually, I have this massive tub at my place. It’s got these jets that really hit the spot. I think I’ll pack up a few things before we go.”

  A frown hooded his eyes. “You’re not even going to try to understand, are you?”

  “What’s to understand, Jeremy? We’re choosing our jobs over each other. It’s mutual.”

  “Is it?” He flicked his gaze her way.

  “Of course it is.” She shrugged, fighting back tears. She may understand his reasoning. It didn’t mean she had to like it. “Thank you for breakfast. Thank you for everything.”

  “I’ll get the car.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m sure Rand is around.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Forcing a smile, she nodded. She was not going to cry over him, not anymore. She’d spent too many nights wishing and hoping they had a future together. That dream had ended years ago. It really sucked how long it had taken her to realize that. “I’m positive.”

  She kept her head down, her face hidden, until she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. The sounds of Jeremy cleaning up after breakfast killed the silence. Only then did she allow the tears to fall. It was over.

  It was time to accept that.

  THIRTY

  “East entrance secure.”

  Jeremy acknowledged by tapping twice on his earpiece. While he still didn’t understand why a spec ops unit had to be called in, he wasn’t complaining. The more TREX agents, the safer Bree was.

  The art on display was beyond compare. He’d always admired artists for having the ability to see the beauty in anything. Dale Chihuly owned the world of sculpted glass. Troy Gua owned the world of pop hybrid by layering popular images on a single canvas.

  “It is impossible to get a drink around here.” Bree reappeared at his side and smiled. It was forced, of course. He didn’t like the situation any more than she did. Fighting the urge to pull her against him, to hold her close and never let her go, was as crazy as fighting something as natural as breathing. They both had the power to give him life. Take either away and he’d die a slow and dark death.

  He thought the hip-hugging dress she’d worn at the reunion tempted his control. The long, sleek, body-hugging black dress she wore tonight had him hovering on the verge of insanity. The slit up the side showed way too much of her shapely thigh. The cut at the neck dipped low enough to tease the curve of her breasts. The gems sown into the hem contrasted beautifully against her tanned skin. She had her hair up in a demure French roll, leaving her neck exposed. The single-drop diamond she wore around her neck matched the earrings and lit up her features.

  Sweet Jesus, she was gorgeous.

  “Looks like the who’s who of Seattle came to the gala,” he commented in an attempt to keep it light. Not only did they have to appear to have a good time, half of TREX also listened in. He recognized some of the agents as they mingled in the crowd, served the drinks, and even worked the door. It was the agents he didn’t see he counted on tonight.

  A waiter walked up and handed Bree a flute of champagne before nodding at Jeremy and handing him an identical flute. He accepted with a smile, not having any intention of drinking watered down sparkling cider. After the waiter left them, Jeremy turned to Bree and lifted his glass.

  That look of anticipation laced with sadness tore at his resolve. What he wouldn’t give to take her away from all this, to hold her in his arms as they lay in front of a fire, sharing a bottle of wine while soft music filled the air.

  “To reality,” she said softly when he didn’t have the strength to speak.

  “It sucks.” They tapped their glasses together and drank.

  She released a ragged breath and stared at the crowd. “How long do I h
ave to stay?”

  “Long enough for everyone to see you.”

  “Okay, introverts.” Ashley Emerson, the behavioral expert TREX had brought in, spoke up, her soft voice filling the silence from the earpiece. Where did TREX find all the Brits? Ashley’s accent was more pronounced than Rand’s. “Time to move out of your comfort zone. Jeremy, place your hand on the small of her back and lead her over to the large group surrounding the artist.”

  He led Bree and, surprisingly enough, she let him. Without effort, he walked her to the crowd and nodded at the artist, catching his attention. “Mr. Gua, I’d like to introduce you to Breanne Harrington, the president and CEO of Goggles, Inc.”

  “Mr. Gua is my dad.” Troy Gua adjusted his square glasses and jutted out his whisker-covered chin. In a black turtleneck and skinny jeans, he looked every bit the hipster he portrayed in all the magazines. “Mrs. Harrington,” he greeted, grinning wide. “Didn’t we meet two years ago at my LPP exhibit?”

  She smiled, the gesture lighting up her eyes and, in turn, the entire room. “I knew I recognized your name. You’re the artist of all those amazing Prince miniatures. From one Prince fan to another, thank you. I feel like I’m in the presence of royalty.”

  “Ah, man.” Gua’s grin widened. “Royalty, I’m not. I’m just someone with a vision.”

  “As am I.”

  “You’re just as much an artist as I am. I was crazy thrilled to see your RSVP. Your donation at the LPP exhibit was over the top. It’s the angels like you who keep the art alive. I never got to thank you then.” He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. “So here I am, thanking you.”

  Color splashed across her cheeks as she smiled again.

  “Stop grinding your teeth,” Ashley ordered gently. “I can’t hear a thing.”

  “Sorry,” Jeremy growled.

  Gua hesitated, his lips resting against Bree’s fingers. “What was that?”

  “Sorry,” he said louder. “We’re being flagged down.”

  “It’s cool.” He finally released her hand. Good. Jeremy would hate to have had to break it. “Enjoy the gala. I hope SAM can count on you again this year.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to lead her away when the idea struck. He whipped around. “How much is a corporate sponsorship?”

  Gua put up his hands. “I don’t talk bread.”

  A short man with more hair on his face than his head stepped forward. “I’m the curator for the museum.” Once they excused themselves from the artist and his entourage, the curator spoke again. “How much are you interested in donating, Mrs. Harrington? You’ve always been very generous.”

  “I’m not…” she trailed off when Jeremy cleared his throat. Bree spiked her eyebrow and eyed him. He hoped she picked up enough to play along. With the poise of a debutante, she smiled at the curator. “I’m not sure how much, exactly.” She gave Jeremy a sideways glance.

  “How does half a million sound?” he asked. Bree inhaled sharply, but said nothing. When Jeremy slipped his arm around her waist and squeezed, she plastered a smile on her face. “Mrs. Harrington has always been a huge supporter of the arts.”

  The curator looked ready to cry. His eyes shined as he grinned so wide his back teeth showed. “We’d be able to open the new wing in time for the spring gala. If you donate the money we need, we’ll list you as the corporate sponsor of the event.”

  “Sounds like a win win. You’ll have a check in your hand before the end of the night.”

  “Thank you.” The curator laughed and cried at the same time. “This is more than I could have ever hoped for. Thank you. Thank you!” He threw his arms around Bree.

  “Smile,” Jeremy whispered in her ear. “Here comes the press.” He then cleared his throat and spoke loud enough to be heard above the crowd. God, he really this worked. “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please?”

  “What are you doing?” Bree asked.

  “Good question,” Ashley mumbled through the earpiece.

  “Trust me,” he assured them both, wishing he felt as sure as he sounded. As everyone gathered, his uncertainty grew. They all had their attention on him. A million eyes, all on him. He blew out a breath and fought to keep a level head.

  Bree slipped her hand into his. That smile had him calm in an instant. “I trust you.”

  That was all he needed. With the surety he felt clean to his soul, he addressed the crowd. “I’d like to make an announcement.”

  “Please,” the curator said and stepped in front of them. “Allow me. Mrs. Harrington, the president and CEO of Goggles, Inc. has just donated half a million dollars to the museum.”

  The room offered a subtle applause, clearly unimpressed. Damn, that didn’t work.

  “Ah, hell.” Jeremy grinned and nodded at Bree. “Go on and tell them.”

  She rounded her eyes. “Tell them what?”

  He faced the crowd. “We were going to wait until they brought out that giant cardboard check to surprise you all. Goggles is actually donating one million dollars to SAM and will be the corporate sponsor for the wing opening in the spring.”

  The room erupted in cheers and applauded so loud it crackled in his ears.

  “Bollocks. I’ve created a bloody monster.” Ashley sighed. “Well, don’t just stand there and let that applause die. Grab her hand and lift it into the air.” He did as instructed, drawing another round of cheers. Cameras flashed. Phones snapped and recorded. “That’s better. Now that everyone has seen you both and you’ll most likely be trending within the hour, how about we call it a night? Brilliant move, Bowman. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  Neither did he.

  “I really hope you know what you’re doing,” Bree said softly after the crowd went back into little cliques. “I don’t have a million to give.”

  “You have nine hundred and eighty-eight thousand,” he pointed out, drawing her away from any other curious listeners.

  “That’s to pay the board.”

  “You’re not cutting that check.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Jeremy, I have to pay that money.”

  “Exactly.” He looked at her. “You have to pay it. There’s no way around it. Whoever stole that money did a damn good job making it look like you took it. The evidence is overwhelming. The money flowed from KPGL’s accounts directly into yours and then disappeared into a dozen different bank accounts in the Caymans. The transactions were made on your home computer. It’s enough to convict you.”

  “M-My home computer?”

  “That’s why your keys didn’t work some of the time. Someone made copies and has been forcing them into your locks. Someone has been sneaking into your condo and making those transfers.”

  “I noticed my laptop was unplugged when I got home from the reunion. Now I know why. Jesus, I had no idea it was this bad.” Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked rapidly to hold them at bay. “Why do you think I offered to cover the missing funds? There’s no way I’ll be able to convince a jury of my innocence. I’m a Goliath in a room full of Davids. Juries hate CEOs.”

  “Which is why you just donated all that money to a local charity.”

  She drew in a ragged breath, first to protest, he was sure. Then, as the realization sank in, her eyes cleared as her expression brightened. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Now the jury will see a widow struggling to run her late husband’s company, only to be ousted by the board after she donated the proceeds of the radio station she purchased to thwart a hostile takeover. If the board wants you brought up on charges, who do you think will look like an evil Goliath and who will be the heroic David?”

  “Twitter is blowing up,” Ashley pointed out with a laugh. “It’s all over the social media sites. Goggles is one of the top five trends. Come Monday, I bet the stocks fly through the roof.”

  “May I take you home, Mrs. Harrington?” He held out his arm.

  “Yes, you may.” She took his arm and pulled him close. He loved the feel of
her body against his. It fit perfectly, like they were made to fit together. And they were. As soon as this was over, he’d find a way to make this right. He’d make it all right.

  Her phone rang. She opened her purse and removed it to bring it to her ear. “Hey, Whit.” Bree froze as she jumped a wide gaze to Jeremy. “Who is this? Where’s Whitney?”

  He jerked the phone from her and purposely brought it to the ear with the device hidden in it. “You listen to me.”

  “I don’t think so,” the digitized voice retorted. “You listen to me, Agent Bowman. Don’t think we didn’t know who you were from the beginning. You and your brother. We knew TREX would plant agents as soon as you found enough proof.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Payback. I wish I had a nobler cause. Then again, is there a nobler cause than getting what’s due? Speaking of which, let’s get down to business, shall we? My list of demands is simple. I want Mrs. Harrington. In exchange, I won’t kill this pretty little blonde I have taped to a chair.”

  “You and I both know that’s not going to happen.” His gut clenched in fear. Sweet God above, please let TREX already have the location of the caller and were moving in on his location.

  “Do you want to be the one to tell the CEO you refused my very simple request and got her sister-in-law killed?”

  Goddamn it. He closed his eyes and walked in a circle, ignoring Bree’s cries to tell her what was happening. He switched ears so TREX could chime in with a better plan than handing Bree over to a madman. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I just told you,” the caller stated.

  “Maintain contact,” Shaw said through the earpiece, walking over the digitized voice of the caller. His booming German voice was unmistakable. “Triangulating now.”

  “Why Bree?” Jeremy asked the caller. “Why are you doing this to her?”

  “It’s nothing compared to what she’s done to me. I’m taking back what she’s taken from me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Everything,” the caller practically cried. Even through the digital enhancement, Jeremy heard the desperation. Not good. Desperate men made desperate calls that led to desperate mistakes.