Lone Star Santa

by Heather MacAllister

  If Mitch reported his suspicions to the police or the FBI, they’d just figure he was trying to save himself. Which he would be. But it was such a sweet system. They’d never believe he had no clue. Even he couldn’t believe he’d had no clue, no inkling, no suspicion. And the way Jeremy had become the front man and left Mitch with all the technical details—pure brilliance. Jeremy would act shocked. His father was a respected small-town businessman. He would act shocked. They were good with people. They’d know just the right things to say.

  And they’d had weeks to practice. Weeks to clean up. Weeks to make Mitch look guilty.

  He couldn’t count on help from the FBI. They thought they had their man—him.

  This was one time when doing the right thing would be the wrong strategy.

  Kristen took the Sugar Land exit off the freeway. As she turned to go beneath the overpass the dingy shadows and concrete reminded Mitch of the black-and-white films he’d been watching. “That’s it,” he said. “I’m living a film noir. You’re the femme fatale. I’m the doomed patsy.”

  “Mitch, will you please get over yourself?”

  “It’s true. A favorite theme is the innocent man being framed and trying to prove it. He has to fight both the bad guys and the good guys.”

  “So what happens?”

  “Somebody usually gets shot.”

  “I nominate Jeremy.”

  “No.” Mitch straightened. “That won’t do it. I need to clear my name. I need revenge. And I need for Jeremy to realize that he’s not as clever as he thinks he is.”

  “And that you’re not as stupid as he thinks you are.” She nodded. “I get it.”

  “We’re not using the s word. But, yes. That, too.” He looked over at her. “If I’m going to get him, Kristen, I’ll need your help. You in?”

  She flashed him a huge grin. “I am so in.”

  Chapter Eight

  Kristen rested her chin on her hand and looked through the doorway of her father’s office to where Mitch sat at her desk.

  She’d driven directly here once Mitch had decided to fight back. She hadn’t wanted to chance him sleeping on it and changing his mind.

  In an ideal world, he could go to whatever entity was in charge of catching money launderers. This was not an ideal world. Kristen knew that. And Mitch pointed out that even if it was established that he’d been completely unaware, who would want to hire a money manager who hadn’t known that his own portfolio was being used in money laundering?

  So this was both personal and professional with him.

  But it was three a.m. and they still didn’t have a plan. They were gathering information. Okay, fine. But Kristen was bored. Yes, she knew what was at stake. She was still bored. This was the tedious part they skipped in books and movies.

  Her assignment had been to investigate Jeremy’s father and his company to find anything Mitch could use.

  Kristen smothered a yawn. Where was the glamour? The excitement? The hot sex?

  That would wake her up.

  Not that she was in the mood right now, but Mitch didn’t know that. He could at least try something. When she said she’d help him, she’d meant it, sure, but she’d expected some breaks where he felt moved to express his gratitude. And she would feel moved to express her, um, gratitude for his gratitude. But he hadn’t made eye contact with her, not even when she’d spoken directly to him.

  He’d lost his mojo, that’s what had happened. He was embarrassed.

  He had no reason to be, as far as Kristen was concerned. He’d trusted. Jeremy was scum. And son of scum.

  Kristen stretched her arms over her head. She needed to plug Mitch’s testosterone leak before he became a mere shell of a man. It was the right thing to do.

  “I’m getting tired,” she announced, her arms still over her head.

  No response.

  “And my back and shoulder are aching.” She arched her back and held it until the muscles started to cramp.

  He didn’t look up.

  Oh, come on. That had been a great pose. His peripheral vision should have alerted him.

  Maybe she was too late and he was nothing but a husk of a man. This called for emergency resuscitation.

  She got up and approached him. “Want a bottle of water? Coffee?”

  He gazed at the monitor. “I’m good.”

  Kristen walked behind his chair and deliberately placed her hands on his shoulders. His muscles tensed. “I figured if my shoulders hurt, yours must, too.” She pressed with her thumbs and kneaded with her fingers, really going after the knots.

  He allowed it for a few brief seconds and then tried to shake her off. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine.” Kristen yanked the rolling chair out from the desk, spun it around and sat in his lap.

  “Kristen!” After a brief surprised look, he fixed his gaze over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “Mitch.” She touched his jaw. “Look at me.”

  He jerked his jaw away, but met her eyes.

  Nope. No mojo there. She shifted on his lap. No mojo anywhere. “Mitch, being set up like this could have happened to anyone.”

  “But it didn’t. It happened to me.”

  How could she convince him? “I don’t want you thinking that I look down on you or anything.”

  “Okay. Thanks. We should get back to work.”

  A girl could get a complex. “Mitch, I…” This was so difficult when he gazed at her with all the expression of a statue. “I’m trying to say that this…situation doesn’t make you any less attractive.”

  His eyes shifted to that place over her shoulder again.

  “If anything it makes you even more appealing because…because you were in a relationship. You committed yourself to your friendship and to making that relationship work. And you trusted completely. Jeremy counted on that trust; otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to work the scam. He betrayed you. He should feel ashamed. But don’t count on it because anybody who could court your trust knowing that he intended to break it is not a normal human being.”

  He was looking at her again—warily, but at least he could face her.

  “But you—you trusted. You committed. You stayed loyal until the evidence was overwhelming. Women are desperate to find a guy like you.” She gazed into his eyes. “I’m desperate to find a guy like you.”

  And she leaned down and kissed him. She’d meant the kiss as a kind of exclamation point to her speech, a reassurance that he was still an attractive man.

  She hadn’t intended to linger and she certainly hadn’t planned on melting into him—at least not this time. But melt she did.

  Maybe it was the angle, since she was sitting on his lap and had to bend down. Maybe it was the way her hair fell softly forward, curtaining their faces. Maybe it was because she’d initiated the kiss. Maybe it was everything that kept her lips on his.

  Or it could have been because Mitch grabbed her arms as if he’d planned to push her away from him and ended up circling his hands around her back and moving one up to fist a handful of her hair.

  Yeah, that was probably it.

  The man kissed as though he were starving for it. As though he thought she’d never kiss him again. It was a chaste, but strangely intense kiss.

  He needed more reassurance, that was it. Kristen settled her torso more firmly against his chest, the shift in weight causing the chair to rock back. Mitch’s hand was now splayed over her bare midriff. He brushed his fingers against her skin, making her shiver even as the warmth spread.

  She moved her mouth softly, but insistently over his, savoring the sensations, taking her time, letting him know there was no rush and she wasn’t going anywhere.

  It took several moments before Kristen felt Mitch relax—not that she was complaining. She rubbed his chest, her fingers exploring his muscles, and moved her hand up to cup his jaw. Urging his lips open, she tasted hints of salt and lime before stroking his tongue with hers.

&nbs
p; She was totally driving this kiss. However, as the driver, it was up to her to let him know where they were going.

  The thing was, Kristen had been driving aimlessly, so to speak. Not that the ride hadn’t been fun—was still fun—but it was time to put the car back into the garage.

  She gave a tiny, contented little “mmm” and ended the kiss, pulling back slowly.

  Very nicely done, if she did say so herself. Maybe she’d gone a little overboard, but she didn’t expect Mitch to complain.

  His eyes were still closed as she moved back and he was smiling faintly. Ha. Mission complete. Mojo restored. She looked forward to next time when he might put some of that mojo to good use.

  Speaking of…he hadn’t said anything. She waited.

  Slowly, his eyelids lifted. She tried to read his expression, but couldn’t.

  “That was one hell of a pity kiss.”

  Kristen straightened and removed his hand from her back. “That wasn’t a pity kiss. Pity kisses get less tongue.” She pushed herself off his lap, not caring if she squashed his leg in the process.

  If he was so determined to feel sorry for himself, then he just could. She turned around to tell him so, but caught the quick flash of humor in his eyes and remained silent.

  Humor was good. He’d be okay.

  “I HAVE A PLAN.” Mitch’s voice sounded from above her.

  Kristen had fallen asleep on the leather loveseat, flat on her back, her knees crooked over the arm. She opened her eyes and saw that Mitch was holding a Star-bucks sack.

  “Does your plan involve coffee?”

  “Absolutely. Scoot over.”

  Kristen rearranged herself as Mitch sat and handed her a venti something. “I don’t suppose this is a decaf skim-milk latte?”

  He snorted in disgust and sipped his coffee. “No.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” She drank deeply and felt the whole milk fat molecules slip over her tongue. Wonderful. Fabulous. “What are you drinking?”

  “Espresso. Quad shot.”

  “You’ll never sleep again.”

  “Like I have time.” He shook the bag. “I have a scone thingie, a muffin and something gooey.”

  “You wonderful man.” Kristen went for the muffin. “So what’s your plan?”

  He was staring at the muffin in her hand, so Kristen broke off a piece and fed it to him.

  “My plan,” he said when he’d swallowed, “is to get Jeremy to dirty his hands.” He snitched another piece of her muffin. “With me gone, there’s got to be a backlog.”

  “He’ll claim that you set everything up and he was just executing trades that you’d started.” She took a bite of muffin before Mitch ate it all.

  “I thought of that. So he’ll have to set up a new account all by himself.”

  Mitch watched Kristen’s mouth the way a cat watches a piece of string. It was so cute; Kristen relented and gave him the rest of the muffin.

  “How does that prove that you’re innocent?” She reached for the bag and pulled out the scone. The gooey thing looked interesting, but it was a little early and she’d had too little sleep.

  “It doesn’t, but it proves that he knew what was going on.”

  “And this helps you how?” Kristen broke off a piece of scone and popped it into her mouth.

  “It establishes reasonable doubt.”

  Kristen ate another piece and waited. “That’s it? That’s your plan?”

  “So far.” He reached for her scone and she smacked his hand away, then immediately relented and gave him a big hunk of it.

  “So how are you going to get Jeremy to set up the account?”

  “I don’t know,” he said around a mouthful of scone.

  “You don’t have much of a plan.”

  “Not yet. I figured you and I could brainstorm the details.”

  He was so upbeat—although that could be the caffeine—Kristen couldn’t discourage him.

  “Don’t forget about Jeremy’s father,” she said.

  “I haven’t, but first things first.”

  Kristen brushed the crumbs off her fingers, grabbed her coffee cup and stood. “I don’t think you can bring one down without bringing down the other. They’ve probably got safety nets in place for both of them. If it were me, I’d stash money outside the country and take off at the first sign of trouble.”

  “But they didn’t—Kristen, you’re a genius!” He leaped to his feet and hugged her.

  Which was the exact moment the door opened and Kristen’s father walked in. “Good morning.” His gaze swept the two of them. “Here to finish the lights, Mitch?”

  “I already finished, Mr. Zaleski. Kristen and I were working on something else.”

  “So I see.” He hung his jacket on the coat rack.

  Kristen had been trying to hide behind Mitch without looking as though she was trying to hide behind Mitch. “What are you doing here, Dad? It’s Saturday.”

  “I’m trying to get caught up so I can take a couple of days off at Christmas.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “I thought so.” Her father smiled as an awkward silence fell.

  At least it was awkward for Kristen, who chanted silently to herself, I’m an adult, I’m an adult even as she positioned her arms to cover her belly ring.

  Mitch cleared his throat. “Kristen tells me you helped research my…my…”

  “Money laundering problem?” her father smoothly supplied.

  “You knew?” Kristen asked.

  “I suspected. I’ve had experience with people trying to hide assets in divorce cases. They’ve got the shell companies and the offshore accounts just as you found. Not on such a large scale, though,” he added.

  “Mr. Zaleski, I want to assure you that as difficult as it is to believe, I had no knowledge of any of this before Kristen showed me what she’d found.”

  “It’s true,” Kristen said. “I followed my hunch,” she threw that in because she knew her dad liked hunches, “and went undercover to a…club. With Mitch. That he owns. But didn’t know he owned.” She should stop right now.

  “You’re not under much cover from what I can see,” said her father and headed toward his office.

  Kristen threw Mitch a “help me” look.

  “We came back here to see what else we could find out,” he said.

  Kristen’s father turned in the doorway. “And?”

  “You better sit down, Dad.”

  He sat, but he made them call Mitch’s parents and Kristen’s mother first. Mitch protested, but Kristen knew her father well enough to recognize that this was not a negotiable point.

  An hour later, everybody had been brought up to speed.

  “Carl, I’m glad you insisted that Mitch call us,” Patsy Donner said. “Mitch, I can’t believe you were trying to deal with this on your own.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you. But honestly,” he exhaled, “I’m glad you know now.”

  “I should think so,” Patsy said.

  “To be fair, Mitch didn’t know there was anything to worry about until yesterday,” Kristen said.

  Mitch’s father leveled a look at him. “Call me overly cautious, but if the FBI and the SEC impounded all my possessions and froze my accounts, I’d consider it cause for concern.”

  “I thought they’d made a mistake,” Mitch explained. Again. “Let’s move on.”

  “They haven’t made their case yet, or Mitch wouldn’t still be walking around,” Kristen’s father offered. “They don’t have the advantage of Barb making the real estate connection, which is pure, genuine, one-hundred-percent luck.”

  “I knew it. I knew there was something off with that smug Chuck Sloane.” Barbara Zaleski had been pacing nearly the whole time because she had been too incensed to sit still. “More than once, I’d get a really good offer on a piece of junk property and he’d swoop in at the last minute and pay a little more. My client would be thrilled until Sloane would turn around and sell the property the next we
ek for twice what he’d paid. And then I would hear about it. I’ve even had to refund part of my commission just to keep from being sued!”

  Honestly, Kristen thought her mother was angrier than Mitch was.

  “So what’s the plan?” Robert Donner asked.

  “I—” Mitch began.

  “He has no plan,” Kristen interrupted. “Except to make Jeremy incriminate himself.”

  “What good will that do? You’ll still look guilty,” Patsy said.

  “That was my point,” Kristen told her.

  “So nobody likes my reasonable doubt defense?” Mitch asked.

  “No!” they chorused.

  “Although you were saying I was brilliant when Dad got here,” Kristen reminded him.

  “That’s right.” Mitch looked more animated. “Because you said that Jeremy and his father would have taken off if they could have. So I figure that something is keeping them here. If I can figure out what, maybe I can use it.”

  “Well, they are hosting the big Christmas Light Parade kickoff,” Mitch’s mother said.

  Kristen rolled her eyes. Like big-time crooks would risk arrest to give a Christmas party.

  “That’s it.” Mitch beamed at his mother.

  “What?” Kristen stared at him, and then noticed everyone else nodding and murmuring in agreement.

  “A party?” Were they all nuts?

  “It’s not just any party,” Patsy said. “It’s the party.”

  “It is,” Barbara agreed. “The Light Parade is a really big deal now, Kristen. All the politicos are home for the holidays and they make an appearance. Players from the Texans, Rockets and Astros live here, so they’re there, too. Even the governor has shown up the past three years.”

  “The governor of Texas?” Kristen could not believe this.

  “Sure,” Patsy confirmed. “The parade is a feel-good holiday story, so the news media turns out and where there’s a news camera, you’ll find a politician.”

  “The Sloanes can’t pull out now without attracting all kinds of attention.” Carl Zaleski headed for the old-fashioned percolator coffee pot and held it up in a silent question. No one wanted any more coffee. “You have to remember that with an operation this entrenched, they’ve got some pretty big clients. And those clients aren’t exactly Sunday school teachers, if you know what I mean.”