Armed 'N' Ready

by Tee O'Fallon

  “That’s exactly the point.” Nick turned to her, secretly admiring her astute question. “The more accounts, the less activity associated with any one of them, and the easier it is to close one if anyone gets suspicious. It also provides spare locations if money ever has to be moved in a hurry.” He tapped his fingers on the table, staring at Myer. “Did you set these accounts up?”

  “No.” Myer shook his head. “I assume Argyle did. The woman gave me the account numbers over the phone.”

  The woman. Again, Meera.

  “That’s five hundred thousand dollars,” Cox said.

  “I’m only getting started.” Myer moved the cursor to close out the Scotland folder. “Wait until I show you the Belize account.”

  “Hold on.” Nick pulled out his cell phone and took a picture of the screen, making sure to get a clear image of the Scottish account numbers.

  As Myer continued detailing the specifics of how he wired money out of the country to all of Argyle’s offshore accounts, he texted the screenshot to Eric, along with a message to ask his friend in Scotland to pull some strings. It was a long shot, but if they got lucky and Eric’s friend came through, it could shortcut the process, saving them a boatload of precious time.

  Eric came back with a quick reply. On it.

  Myer started to click on the folder marked Belize but stopped and looked at Andi. “I’m sorry about using your account. It was stupid, and thoughtless, and I’ll never forgive myself for doing it.”

  Andi nodded slowly but didn’t say anything. The only evidence of her internal struggle over Myer’s admission was the tightening of her jaw. Nick wanted her to let loose and slug the guy, but she didn’t. She was too kind a person, which was one of a hundred reasons why he loved her.

  Two hours later, they finished. Nick and Saxon escorted Andi and Joe to the cafeteria for coffee and something to eat, then to Conference Room B, where Andi had been waiting earlier. She set her purse on the table next to the sandwich she hadn’t eaten. Joe set his plate down, then pulled Andi into his arms.

  At the abrupt movement, Saxon lowered his head, glaring up at Myer. Nick smirked. His dog didn’t like the guy much, either, but probably not for the same reasons Nick didn’t. Myer didn’t like dogs, and Saxon knew it. Nick’s reasons for disliking him went gut-deep.

  Over Myer’s shoulder, she met his gaze for a long moment before shutting her eyes and uttering a long sigh.

  “Joe, are you really okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine, baby.” Myer clasped the back of her head, stroking her hair. “I’m more worried about you.”

  Nick clenched his hand into a fist around Saxon’s leash. Myer could be a goddamn altar boy, and he’d still hate the guy’s guts—for loving Andi and for being the one she had her arms around.

  It’s your own damn fault. Words he found himself repeating over and over the past twenty-four hours.

  Knowing the depths of Myer’s feelings for her, the idea of leaving the two of them alone grated on his nerves, but he had no choice.

  “I have to go verify the grand jury is ready. Don’t leave this room,” he ordered Myer before heading to the door, taking no small amount of gratification when Andi pulled out of the guy’s embrace. “As long as you stay here, you’ll be okay. Tonight, you’ll go to a safe house.”

  Saxon shot Myer one last wary look before following Nick.

  He jerked open the door, slamming it shut when he and Saxon were in the hallway. Dealing with Myer was going to be a lot harder than he’d expected. More accurately, seeing him with Andi would drive him abso-fucking-lutely nuts.

  Shake it off, Houston. For now, he’d do it, but only because he had no say in the matter. Later on, he’d move heaven and earth to get back in Andi’s good graces. There was no way on this earth he’d let Joe Myer or anyone else stand between him and the woman he loved.

  After taking Saxon outside for a few minutes to do his business, he found Cox and Bennett back in the other conference room discussing their next move. He suspected this would be a long day, stretching well into the evening with additional interviews of both Myer and Meera. With that in mind, he’d brought Saxon inside again, not giving a crap whether Bennett objected. Not only that, when it came time to move Myer to wherever he’d be spending his first night, he wanted his partner there backing him up.

  “We’ve been going over Myer’s and Meera Devine’s statements,” Bennett said as he and Saxon rejoined them. “For the most part they mesh, but we’ll re-interview them to button down the details before putting them in the grand jury.”

  Nick figured that might happen. He unhooked Saxon’s leash and pointed to the wall behind him. Saxon lay down, resting his head between his paws.

  Leaning against the same wall was Nick’s discarded body armor. He reached out to retrieve it when his cell phone buzzed. He looked at the screen to see an incoming text from Eric.

  Call me. Interesting news from Scotland.

  “Back in five.” He headed for the door, preferring to have this conversation out of Bennett’s earshot. The guy would throw a fit if he knew they were circumventing DOJ protocol by involving foreign officials in an investigation without filing the requisite red tape.

  Red tape, my ass.

  Anything that would get them to the end game faster was fine with him.

  Stepping into the hallway, he pulled the door shut behind him then punched up Eric’s number. “What have you got?” He leaned against the wall opposite the conference room, absently noting that the door hadn’t completely shut again, and he could glimpse Saxon watching him. His snout still rested on the floor, but his ears twitched as he kept an eye on Nick.

  “I sent the bank account numbers you gave me to my friend in Inverness. They checked with a security guy at the Royal Bank of Scotland, who figured out pretty quickly that the three accounts were opened at a branch in Portree.”

  “Where’s Portree?”

  The conference room door squeaked open another inch, and Cox eyed him suspiciously.

  “On the north side of the country, near the Isle of Skye,” Eric continued. “My friend in Inverness has a buddy in the Portree Police Department. Turns out the Portree PD is located literally thirty yards across the town square from the same branch where these accounts were opened. Apparently, Portree isn’t that big, and everyone knows everyone. This cop is dating one of the tellers, and she told him who opened the accounts.”

  Nick straightened. Now they were getting somewhere.

  “Portia Laird,” Eric said.

  Nick searched his memory. Nada. He’d been expecting Brian Argyle, possibly Meera Devine, or even Joe Myer, if the sonofabitch had lied to them. So, who is Portia Laird?

  “As soon as the Portree cop heard the name,” Eric continued, “he called me directly. Everyone in Portree knows the name. Ten years ago, Portia Laird was investigated for murdering her husband.”

  Eric paused, giving Nick a moment to absorb this information, and his heart began beating faster. “What was her husband’s name?”

  “Andrew Laird. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “No. What were the circumstances of his death?”

  “Portia and Andrew Laird were on a hunting trip on the Isle of Skye. Andrew Laird was shot in the back. Portia said she heard the shot but didn’t see anyone. Problem was, there were no other documented hunters in that area, and the local police never found any evidence. Not even another weapon.”

  “Did they compare the weapon Portia was carrying to the one that killed her husband?”

  “The bullet didn’t match her gun or her husband’s, but they were sure they had their man. Er, woman.”

  “Why were they so sure?”

  “Several reasons. Portia had never gone on a hunting trip with her husband before, but she was the one who suggested it. Laird had been previously married, and his children hated Portia. What his children didn’t know is that Laird had just changed his will. Portia stood to inherit everything, even though it w
asn’t an enormous estate.”

  “They think she killed him for the inheritance.”

  “You got it.”

  Nick’s shit meter swung into the red zone. “Can they send us a photo of Portia Laird?”

  “Since she was never arrested and never charged, the police don’t have her photo or prints on file. They’re trying to dig up her old UK driving license photo.”

  “Wouldn’t the shooting have made the news? Is there a photo of her in one of the local papers?”

  “I already checked,” Eric said. “It’s not only been ten years, but apparently Portia Laird did a good job of staying out of the limelight after her husband’s death. Someone up there will find a photo sooner or later, and they’ll send it to me when they do.”

  “Good work.” He tried to disguise the disappointment in his voice. He really needed that picture. “What about the bank? Did they say when Portia was there last? They might have video.” Then again, if Portree was that much in the Scottish sticks, he wondered if the banks even maintained cameras.

  “Negative video. It’s been two years since she was physically in that branch accessing her safe deposit box, and the bank video turns over every thirty days.”

  He wasn’t surprised to hear that. Most banks didn’t maintain footage forever. At least they knew she had a bank box, and they could include that in their MLAT request.

  Some things about Portia Laird still bugged him, not the least of which was that she’d been investigated for murdering her husband. “Can the Portree cop or anyone in the bank give us a description of the woman?” he asked.

  “The cop said she’s kinda plain. Average height, brown hair, brown eyes. The bank tellers said the same thing. Aside from her being a suspected murderer, the only other thing people remember about her is her dog.”

  Her dog?

  Nick pushed from the wall. Every one of his senses went on high alert. Through the opening into the conference room, Saxon lifted his head, watching Nick intently.

  “What about her dog?” His voice was low and controlled, but inside he was wound tighter than a rubber band.

  “Big thing, with thick wavy gray hair covering its eyes, cropped tail. Sounds a lot like a—”

  “—Bouvier,” they both said at the same time.

  His heart began beating wildly. “Saxon! Cox!” he shouted, already taking off down the hall. “Eric,” he yelled into the phone, “get in here and call for backup! Conference Room C. Third floor. It’s Meera! The bitch has been playing us the whole time.”

  “Already on my way,” Eric said. “Backup’s in tow.”

  He jammed the phone into his pocket and tore down the hall. Behind him, Saxon’s claws scrabbled on the floor as he caught up. His partner didn’t need to know what was up. Saxon knew from Nick’s body language that it was bad.

  “Nick!” Cox yelled from behind them.

  Not waiting for the agent to catch up, he and Saxon took the next corner at top speed. He shoved a few paralegals out of his way. Others jumped aside, pressing their backs to the wall as they shot past. “Get in your offices and stay there!” he shouted.

  His heart raced as he pounded down the hall. Christ, he should have seen this coming. His gut told him there was no Brian Argyle. Worse, he suspected Meera Devine was the brains behind Argyle Enterprises.

  And she’d killed before.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I can’t believe Meera was part of this the entire time.” Andi stared out the window, watching the window washers on the opposite side of the U-shaped building. “How often has she come into the DPC and talked with us as if we were friends?”

  It had been her intention to yell at Joe the minute they were alone, but she was too tired and overwhelmed. The chewing-out she had planned would have to wait until later, after she’d rested up and had more time to process everything.

  “I’m sorry.” Before she could stop him, he cupped the side of her face. His hazel eyes were filled with concern, his expression one of utter misery. “Can you ever forgive me for involving you in this mess?”

  “What’s done is done.” She tugged his hand from her face, and when he tried to thread his fingers with hers, she pulled away. Hearing about his gambling problem had sucked the wind from her anger, but definitely not eliminated it by any stretch. “I’m still mad as hell at you, but I understand that gambling is an addiction, and I want to help you. I’ll stay with you through this. As long as it takes.” And she meant it.

  He reached for her again, but this time she held up her hand. “No, Joe. You misunderstand.” The look of confusion on his face about killed her. This was so not going the way she’d expected. “I only meant I want to help you. I’ll support you any way I can, but—”

  “It’s the cop, isn’t it?” The elation on his face had fled. He turned and rested his forearms on the windowsill. “I picked up on it in the other room. Every time I touched you, Sgt. Houston looked like he wanted to rip my heart out. Even his dog doesn’t like me.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.” She laid her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “I don’t know what I said or did to make you think otherwise, but you know as well as I do that our romance was over a long time ago. I thought you were okay with that. What’s changed?”

  His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. “Being on the run then learning you could have been killed made me rethink things. We were so good together, and I thought we could be again.”

  She joined him at the window, nudging his hip with hers. “We were good together, and I have no regrets. But we made the right decision to break up years ago. I think it’s the stress of what’s happening that’s confusing things.”

  He began massaging his forehead. “Maybe,” he admitted after a long moment.

  “No maybes.” Nick’s handsome face shimmered before her eyes. Even though things were over with him, rekindling a romance with Joe wasn’t in the cards.

  “So, what’s with the cop?” He faced her and rested his elbow on the sill.

  Now it was her turn to stare out the window. She wasn’t quite sure how to answer his question. “We were…something. Now we’re not. It didn’t go anywhere.”

  “You could have fooled me.” He playfully shoulder-bumped her. “There was definitely something sizzling between you two. Pissed me off, but I want you to be happy.”

  “Thanks.” She squeezed his hand, giving him a forced smile. “If only that were poss—”

  Her cell phone rang, and she dug it out of her purse on the table.

  “Hi, Tess,” she said after taking the call. “What’s up?”

  “You won’t believe this.” Tess paused, and Andi tensed for more bad news. “Someone just paid all the DPC’s outstanding bills.”

  “What do you mean someone paid our bills?” Though Tess couldn’t see, she scrunched up her face. “I didn’t. That isn’t even possible. I don’t have the money.”

  “Nick paid them.” Tess laughed. “Every single one.”

  “What?” Her mouth fell open. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” Her bubbly giggle sang through the phone. “I called the produce market to let them know we’d be late paying our tab, and they said it was already paid. A man called in yesterday afternoon and gave them his bank card information. I asked, ‘what man’ and they said Nicholas Houston. Then I called every other one of our vendors, including the dairy farm, the winery, the electrical company, and the water company, to name a few. They all said the same thing—Nick paid the bill.”

  “Oh my God.” She stared at the wall as she absorbed Tess’s news.

  “Andi?” Joe stood in front of her now, a concerned look on his face. “Is everything all right?”

  “That’s over ten thousand dollars,” she whispered. “Why would he do that?”

  The question was meant more for herself, but Tess answered just the same. “Because he cares about you. He really cares about you.”

  “I-I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.�
� Still in a daze, she ended the call and put her phone back in her bag.

  Had he done it out of guilt? Or sympathy?

  Maybe. In her heart, she dared to hope there was another reason, and at that moment his words yesterday in the woods came back to her. I love you. And the stark pain she’d glimpsed in his eyes. A man like him didn’t throw those three words around lightly.

  “Oh no.” She reached out to steady herself, resting her hand on the table. Everything that had passed between them flitted before her eyes.

  Nick confronting his awful past to bail her out of a major jam when her musician hadn’t shown.

  Nick saving her life, then guarding her with his.

  Nick kissing her and making love to her as no man ever had.

  Now he’d paid all her debts. That hadn’t been a requirement of his job, or his duty, or something necessary to further his investigation. Not for the first time, he’d done something for her just because he loved her. And I was too blind to see it.

  She’d judged him by all her failures with the men in her life. Not that he hadn’t given her a reason to doubt the truth of his words. “I’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake.”

  “What mistake?” Joe asked.

  They turned as the conference room door opened, and she hoped it was Nick.

  It wasn’t.

  Andi gasped. “Meera.”

  “What are you doing here?” Joe shouted.

  Without answering, Meera shut the door, locking it behind her.

  Andi tensed. Something was very, very wrong.

  Nick had assured her that Meera was being guarded by a deputy U.S. marshal, and that Meera’s and Joe’s paths would never cross.

  What was she doing there, unguarded?

  Meera dug into the purse hanging over her shoulder and pulled out a gun. “I’m here to clean up this mess,” she answered in a thick Scottish brogue.

  Andi jerked back, bumping into the window ledge.

  “Oh, shit.” Joe moved in front of her, shielding her with his body.

  “Where’s the laptop?” Meera glanced at Andi’s small purse, then at the floor on either side of the table. “Where is it?” Her voice was low and controlled, yet there was no mistaking the deadly intent in her eyes.