Ethan leaned against the counter and watched him with a quirked brow. “Mac and cheese this early in the morning?”
“Hell, yes. Breakfast of champions. Have you tasted this?”
Ethan shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Best ever.” He placed the bowl in the microwave and set the timer.
“You’re supposed to be in bed.”
He turned to see Annabelle frowning at him, her hands on her slim hips. Most of the swelling had subsided around her eye, but it was ringed with yellow and black bruising. He fought the overwhelming urge to take her into his arms.
“I was in bed, for like ten hours.”
The bell dinged. He turned back to the microwave to see the cheese bubbling nicely. He removed the dish with pot holders.
“Is that Mrs. Hernandez’ mac and cheese?”
He inhaled the enticing aroma. “Sure is.”
She scurried to the cabinet for a bowl. “Gimme.”
He forked a cheesy mouthful and groaned. “So good.”
Annabelle was shoving a healthy portion into a dish when Ethan reached over her head for a bowl. “I gotta try this now.”
Kellan almost grabbed the container and shouted “mine” like a toddler. He wanted the sinfully delicious meal to himself. Soon, they were all tucking into the creamy noodles. Ethan’s groan of pleasure, he could ignore. It was the one Annabelle emitted that had his body hardening and his brain conjuring up images it had no business conjuring. She’s a client, he repeated in his head as he rinsed his dish in the sink.
“Breakfast of champions,” Ethan agreed, loading his empty bowl in the dishwasher.
“I wonder if I can finagle the recipe from Mrs. Hernandez,” Annabelle mused.
“You cook?” The thought of her standing in front of a stove wearing nothing but a short white apron flashed in his head and he quickly quashed it.
“Not much, and not well, but enough to get by.”
Ethan’s phone buzzed and he stepped away to answer.
“I wish you’d go back to bed.” Annabelle’s brows were furrowed as she scrutinized him—and not in an I want you kind of way. More like, you’re a strange riddle I can’t solve.
He reached out and brushed his fingertips against her battered cheekbone. “Does it hurt?”
She lifted a shoulder. “A little. The ice helped.”
Not for the first time he wished he’d been the one to shoot Bixby. If there was any justice in the world, the bastard was currently sharing a toasty, razor-laced alligator pit with Jeffrey Dahmer and Albert DeSalvo, aka the Boston Strangler.
“You ready to visit the lawyer’s office?”
“Yes, but not until you’ve recovered.”
“I’m good to go.” At her disbelieving look, he added, “I’ll take it easy, but I’m fine, Annabelle. Really. The sleep helped. So did the food. The sooner we can cross it off the list, the sooner we can be out of here.”
“There is one more thing…”
He almost groaned out loud. He wanted to get her to the compound where she’d be safe. “What is it?”
“I want to give Robbie the money he needs to pay off the debt.”
Kellan gaped at her. “Ten million dollars? Are you kidding me?” When she shook her head meekly, he asked, “You want to bail out the man who’s tried to kill you several times? Who has killed already?”
She grimaced. “I know it’s probably not the right thing to do, and it’s like negotiating with a terrorist, but if he pays off the debt, he has no reason to come for me. No one else will be shot.”
Suddenly he understood. She was doing this for him. “Belle…” It was the first time he’d called her that, but it seemed to fit her. “What’s to keep him from coming back the next time he needs money? If you give in to him now, it’ll only encourage him to keep doing what he’s been doing. You’ll be his personal bank.”
She looked distressed, her bottom lip caught between straight white teeth. “I know. I thought about that. But maybe I can have the lawyer draw up a document saying that it’s a one-time payoff and that he can’t ask for more in the future or he’ll have to pay the original amount back to me.”
“You think a piece of paper will stop him?”
She threw her hands out. “I don’t know what else to do! I can’t hide from him for the rest of my life. Even after the will clears, what’s to stop him from coming after me just because he can? I have to find a way to end it.”
The man’s death would end it. Too bad Kellan wasn’t a stone-cold assassin like Dexter in the television show of the same name. Though Dexter was a serial killer, he lived by a code. The person had to deserve to die. Having been responsible for the murders of several people already, Annabelle’s stepbrother qualified under that rationale. Despite his personal objections, he found himself saying, “We’ll talk to the lawyer and see what he has to say.”
Before he could brace himself for her reaction, she threw her arms around him. “Thank you.”
He inhaled the fresh scent of wildflowers as he held her in his arms. She felt so damn right, her soft curves aligning with his hard angles, the height difference notwithstanding. Like two pieces of a puzzle sliding together for a perfect fit. Like she was made for him. He was just about to rest his cheek against the top of her head when Ethan returned, and she stepped from his embrace.
“That was my contact with the local FBI office. They raided the house where Thompkins and Bixby set up shop, but the crew was long gone. They did, however, find dozens of bodies in shallow graves behind the house.”
Annabelle gasped. “What were they, mass murderers?”
Ethan nodded. “Of the canine variety. The bodies were dogs, not human. They also found a facility in an old barn out back where they trained the animals. It was basically a torture chamber with chains and whips and claw-foot traps. The guy said it was a bloody mess.”
Annabelle made a sound of distress and buried her head against Kellan’s chest. He stroked a comforting hand down her back, sharing her sadness. Those poor animals had suffered greatly.
“They also had a talk with your friend Dirk.”
Her head snapped up. “From the bank? He’s involved?”
“Up to his scrawny neck. They leaned on him and he sang like a canary.”
“You sound like a mob boss,” Kellan pointed out.
Ethan flashed a grin. “He admitted he was the one who contacted Bixby when you arrived. He helped Bixby’s crew launder money and funnel it through the bank. He gave all the details on where the fights take place and the players involved in exchange for a lighter sentence.”
“What about The Viper?”
Ethan shook his head. “Still unknown.”
“But the authorities will be able to stop the dogfighting?” Annabelle asked hopefully.
“At least in this small part of the country.”
Chapter Fourteen
Annabelle stood in front of the full-length mirror and admired the way the Ralph Lauren ensemble fit her frame. She couldn’t believe she was wearing the clothes of an Oscar-winning actress. She’d chosen something that was both professional for the trip to the lawyer’s office yet easy to move in if—God forbid—they had to run. The cream crewneck silk top featured a sheer double hem and sleeves. It layered over black stretch pants for a classy yet functional look. The Kevlar added extra padding, but that didn’t bother her. Having seen how a vest had saved both Kellan and Ethan yesterday, she was totally convinced of their effectiveness. A small Gucci purse finished the outfit.
She’d used Jade’s cosmetics to conceal the bruising as much as possible, and products on her hair to add tousled waves to her usually-straight locks. She tried telling herself she was applying makeup and styling her hair to visit the lawyer, but she was lying. She was doing it for Kellan.
Ethan was strapping a gun around his ankle while Kellan secured one in a holster at the small of his back when she found them in the living room. They both wore dark polo shirts and charco
al colored tactical pants with all kinds of pockets and flaps. Their boots looked all sorts of complicated, too. Ethan had obviously brought enough supplies with him for Kellan, too. She noticed that the shirts didn’t have their company logo like the one Kellan wore the first day she met him.
Kellan glanced up at her and smiled and she had to take a step back. Wow. She was in so much trouble. How could she have feelings this strong after only knowing him for a short time? He’d quickly become the most important person in the world to her.
That thought was either super-exciting or super-sad.
Forcing her gaze away from the man who consumed her thoughts, she secured the straps on her backpack. She wasn’t going anywhere without it. Hopefully, Mr. Walters, the lawyer who took over for Mr. Windham, would be in today. She wasn’t going to call first and alert him to their arrival. She didn’t want him to pull a Dirk and contact her stepbrother or Bixby’s old crew.
“You look beautiful, Belle.”
Annabelle jumped at the word whispered close to her ear. She hadn’t even heard Kellan approach. The compliment sent a delicious thrill down her spine. And he’d called her Belle again. She loved how the nickname rolled off his tongue. “It’s the clothes.” She smoothed a hand down the silk top.
“No, it’s not,” he murmured.
She looked into his eyes and was lost.
“You two ready?” Ethan asked, breaking the haze that surrounded them.
“Yeah, let’s do this,” Kellan said, still watching her. When he reached for her hand, she knew she’d taken that last step. She’d fallen in love with him.
#
Kellan wasn’t feeling one-hundred percent, but there was no way he’d allow Annabelle to leave the house without him. Even at eighty to eighty-five percent effective, he’d be able to protect her. Having Ethan as backup helped. They were linked through microscopic comm devices in their ears that allowed them to keep in touch.
The mac and cheese breakfast had been filling, but he needed a shot of energy, so he’d consumed a protein bar before they loaded into the SUV. Annabelle insisted on bringing her backpack, but the house was a veritable fortress. He’d had to practically pry it from her hands. Just to be safe, he’d locked it in the weapons room Logan had custom installed. Much like Annabelle’s hidden room, this one was also disguised behind a bookcase and required two different sets of codes. Her prized possessions would be safe.
Ethan had accessed the blueprints of the law offices and they found an entry at the back of the building most likely used for employees. The door wasn’t visible from the street, so it would allow them privacy entering and leaving the offices.
Kellan hoped the meeting didn’t take long. He wanted to be back to the house as quickly as possible. The earliest the company jet could pick them up was tomorrow, and then they’d be ensconced in the safety of the compound. He didn’t want anyone associating Annabelle with COBRA Securities, so he’d purposefully not worn a shirt with a logo.
“Change of plans,” Ethan announced as they slowly rolled up to the back of the building. Kellan peered through the window to see the entry had been barricaded shut.
“Precaution after Mr. Windham was murdered,” he guessed. The killer must’ve entered through that door. “Okay, Plan B. We go through the front.” He got out and helped Annabelle. “Stay close to the building and keep your head down.” Putting his arm around her, he guided her around the two-story brick building, shielding her from view as much as possible. “We’re inside,” he told Ethan through the comms once they entered the lobby.
The interior was luxurious and lavish, with polished hardwood floors in a herringbone pattern, leather chairs and sofas interspersed with ornate tables and lush tropical plants. Elegantly framed artwork decorated the walls. A bronze statue of a blindfolded Lady Justice carrying a sword and the Scales of Justice was prominently displayed on a sideboard. Directly in front of them was a slightly curved reception desk made of ebony wood with a marble counter. Gold letters on the front spelled out Windham, Wallace and Pierce, with Attorneys at Law in smaller letters beneath.
A woman with short cinnamon-colored hair and moss green eyes behind black frames greeted them with a dazzling smile. “Welcome to Windham, Wallace and Pierce. How may I help you today?”
Annabelle stepped forward. “I need to speak with Mr. Walters.”
The woman glanced at the computer screen in front of her and tapped keys. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I don’t, but I’m leaving town and Mr. Walters needed me to sign some papers. It shouldn’t take long. If you can let him know I’m here, I would appreciate it.”
“I’ll certainly see if he’s available to meet with you. Your name?”
“Ms. St. John. I was a client of Mr. Windham.”
“One moment please.”
#
Annabelle waited while the perky redhead spoke into a headset. She hoped she’d recognize the receptionist from her last visit so the woman would let the fact that she didn’t have an appointment slide, but unfortunately, she wasn’t familiar. The woman smiled and said, “He’ll be right with you.” She indicated for Annabelle to have a seat in the waiting area. Instead, she walked over to a thirty-six by forty-eight-inch portrait of Mr. Windham displayed on the wall. He’d been such a nice man. In the picture, he was seated in a chair and smiling in the gentle way that was both grandfatherly and kind. She wondered how long they’d keep his name as part of the firm.
“He looks like he was a good man,” Kellan said.
She smiled sadly. “The best. He was one of my stepfather’s closest friends, one of the few who visited him in the last months of his life.” Seeing his picture brought a wave of sadness over her. Had it only been a few days ago that he’d been senselessly murdered?
Turning away, she sat on a brown tufted leather two-person sofa expecting Kellan to join her, but he took up a position by the door where he could keep an eye on everyone coming and going. She would give Mr. Walters five minutes and if he didn’t show, they were leaving. She wasn’t about to chance a rerun of the bank fiasco. A glance at the antique grandfather clock positioned against a wall showed that they had two minutes before they walked out.
“Ms. St. John?”
She glanced up to see a well-dressed man approaching her. He was average height, in his early thirties with dark hair and eyes. His navy suit with a light blue pinstriped tie and shiny loafers spoke of success. She stood as he reached her, his arm outstretched. She shook his hand and said, “I apologize for stopping by without an appointment but I’m leaving town today.”
“It’s not a problem at all.” He hadn’t moved his gaze from her, nor released her hand and it was disconcerting. “Please, call me Cory. I must say, you’re even more lovely in person…though that looks painful.” He pointed to her eye.
Her hand strayed to her battered face. She’d tried to cover it as best she could but it was still visible. “I ran into a door,” she lied.” She felt rather than saw Kellan approach. The particles in the air seemed to shift—or maybe it was just her intense reaction to him. She tugged her hand free just as Kellan wrapped an arm around her.
Cory’s eyes snapped from her to Kellan, who held out his hand. “Kellan Polizzi, Annabelle’s…significant other.”
Cory’s brows furrowed and he reluctantly shook hands, wincing when Kellan must’ve squeezed a little too hard. Men. Then he instructed them to follow him to the second floor to sign the papers.
She waited until Cory was several steps in front before raising a brow. “Significant other?”
“The guy’s an asshat.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She’d been uncomfortable under his scrutiny. His gaze felt predatory. Calculating. The ride up the elevator was quiet and thankfully short. He led them to the same suite Mr. Windham occupied a few short days ago. She expected to see his secretary, but a different woman was perched behind the desk. This one looked fresh out of college with tousled blond hair, flawless
makeup and a top at least two sizes too small for her perky double-D’s.
Annabelle was taken aback when they entered what was now Cory’s office. The floor-to-ceiling bookcases had been completely cleared out, boxes stacked haphazardly around the space. The framed landscape photos that used to hang on the walls were packed in bubble wrap and piled on the new sleek, modern conference table. Didn’t they allow for a time of mourning? It seemed like a slam to Mr. Windham to fill his spot so quickly. He’d been a founding partner of the firm, for goodness sake.
Noting her distress, Cory said, “Excuse the mess. I’m still getting settled in.” He stepped over a rolled-up carpet and skirted a furniture dolly to take a seat behind a limestone, glass and chrome monstrosity. Mr. Windham’s desk had been an antique Chippendale. He shuffled papers around and then made an “ah-ha” sound, tugging out a manila folder.
“I have the form I need you to sign right here.”
“I was led to believe all was taken care of the last time I met with Mr. Windham. He went over everything in explicit detail.”
“Just some additional paperwork,” Cory said airily. “Nothing you need to worry about.” He flipped open the folder and pointed out tabs next to the signature lines. “If you’ll sign in those two spots, we’ll be good to go.”
“May I ask what this is that I’m supposed to sign?” She knew Mr. Windham had covered every angle.
“Legal mumbo jumbo, you know how it is,” he chuckled but when they didn’t join in, he sobered. “This document allows the firm to continue to handle your case—me specifically.”
Kellan slammed a hand down on the pen before she could pick it up…not that she had any intention of signing.
“I’d like my attorney to look these over,” Kellan said.
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Cory insisted. “It’s all routine.”
The Viper Page 17
