by Mia Carson
He neared Sal’s assistant and waved at her. “I’m here to see Mr. Ginghum. Is he in?”
The woman nodded without looking up from her keyboard. “He is and he’s expecting you, Mr. Jones. Go on inside.”
“Thanks.” Tim hesitated for a moment as the woman eyed him with a look bordering on disgust, and he pushed through the door. “Sal? I was told you wanted to see me.”
“Ah, Jones,” Sal said brightly, standing behind his desk and spreading his arms wide. “I’m so happy you made the time to come visit me in my little corner of the world. Please come in and sit down. Can I offer you a brandy?”
“It’s barely nine in the morning,” he pointed out. “I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself,” Sal said and hummed as he poured himself a very full glass of the dark liquid. “Now, I wanted to discuss these accounts of yours.”
Tim’s eyes narrowed on the bandage across the bridge of Sal’s nose. “No hard feelings about yesterday, then?” he asked, confused. This wasn’t right. First Maya and now Sal. Tim readjusted himself in his seat as uneasiness caused him to tap his hands on the arms of the chair. “About me decking you?”
Sal waved his words off. “Of course not. I’ll admit I can be an ass at times. What matters is ensuring the company is well taken care of. You do have the majority of the accounts under your care, and I would hate to mess anything up with them. It could bring us all down, and that is not my intention. It never has been.”
“No. Your intention has always been to somehow push me out of my own company,” Tim remarked hotly.
Sal’s smile faltered for a moment before it returned even wider, flashing his brilliant white teeth. “I may have been wrong in my judgement of you, but I’m turning over a new leaf. Care to do the same? Everyone knows you didn’t like me when we first met.”
Saying no and walking out sounded like a great idea, but he was right. Until this matter was resolved, Tim was stuck playing nice, if only so his clients didn’t run off and take their money with them. Sal offered him a hand over his desk, waiting expectantly. Tim ground his teeth, mentally screaming curses at the man as he reached out a hand and took Sal’s.
“Wonderful,” the man said and drained half his glass of brandy. “Back to your accounts.”
“What did you need to know?” Tim asked, reluctant to give too much information to a man he didn’t even come close to trusting, but his hands were tied.
“Nothing too terrible, really, but I’ve been looking through the accounts and there seems to be some personal information missing for the clients.”
“Personal information? Like what, exactly?”
Red flags shot up as Tim shifted again, glancing towards the door to Sal’s office. The accounts contained what information was required to invest the money and do with the returns what the client requested. Nothing else was needed. Tim knew many of his clients on a first-name basis, of course, and what they would be interested in as far as future investments, but beyond that, he liked to keep his relationship with them strictly business.
“How about we go through them one at a time so you’ll see what I mean?”
Tim groaned inwardly but motioned for Sal to continue.
Three hours later, Tim rubbed hard at his eyes, willing the headache that had started over two hours ago to dissipate and leave him be. Sal dismissed him after having gone through every single client he’d adopted from Tim. All three-hundred of them. He was ready for a drink but declined when Sal offered him a brandy again. He would rather have a drink alone in his office with the door securely locked so no one could bother him. In the elevator, he checked his cell. It had vibrated a few times during the meeting, but he’d ignored it, not wanting to be rude. He half hoped to see a text from Chris, but there were only two from Nick. The first apologized for being late and the second said he would be waiting at Tim’s office whenever he returned from his meeting.
Tim barely stepped off the elevator before his assistant was standing in front of him, looking anxious and bouncing on his heels. “What did Sal want? Did you get to deck him again?” Nick asked hopefully.
“Sadly, no,” Tim told him. “He offered an olive branch of sorts.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Come on, I need a drink and I don’t want to talk about any of this here.” He cast a glance over the floor and spotted Maya at her desk near the other side, watching him like a cat hunting a mouse. His skin crawled as he glared right back. “A very large drink,” he muttered.
Once safe inside his office with the door locked, Tim poured some drinks for himself and Nick. He nursed it, pacing around his office as he avoided eye contact with anyone on the other side of the glass walls.
“You going to tell me what happened upstairs or make me guess?” Nick asked after a few minutes of silence. “You’re making a rut in the carpet.”
Tim stopped and leaned against the windows, watching the clouds roll in from the west. “He wanted to get to know my clients beyond what was already in the files,” he said. “He wanted to know some personal information—anything I could tell him about them so he could have a better understanding of the people he dealt with.”
“Personal information?”
“Yes, things I know about a few of them and did not feel the need to include in their files. We went through all of them, every last one. He’s up to something, or looking for something,” he mused, more to himself than to Nick. “You’re still able to log in and check on everything, right?”
“So far, so good. He’s only had the files for a day, though, and everything looks normal.”
“For now,” Tim added. “Why were you late this morning?”
Nick’s cheeks flushed red and he shot back the rest of his drink. “No reason.”
“Does this no reason have anything to do with a certain woman who works here?” Tim pressed, teasing him. Not that he had any right to give the man crap. He checked his cell again and his heart sank when there was still no reply from Chris.
“I’m not sure I’m at liberty to discuss such details.” The phone on Tim’s desk rang, and Nick hustled over to answer it. “Mr. Jones’ office.” He held up his hand when Tim whispered to him. “Of course, I will let him know directly. He should be there in twenty minutes. Yes, thank you.” Then he hung up and the chortle escaping his lips told Tim right away the phone call was not necessarily a good one.
“Where will I be in twenty minutes?” He assumed Catherine wished to see him.
“The police station downtown. A Detective Harrison wishes to speak with you about the case and would like you to join her there for a chat.” He glanced at his watch. “I suggest you leave now so you can make it there on time.”
Tim cursed as he set down his glass, scooped up his keys from the drawer in his desk, and bolted out the door. The lunch rush was over, so the streets of Boston weren’t terribly packed, just mildly so. He pulled into the station lot with three minutes to spare, ran up the steps and into the station, and stopped at the front desk as he caught his breath.
“I’m here to see Detective Harrison,” he blurted.
The sergeant behind the counter nodded, his lips curling in a smirk. “Harrison, eh?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Good luck with that one. I’ll have someone escort you back to her desk.” He hollered over his shoulder for someone called Manny, and Tim flinched. “Got someone here to see Harrison. Take him back there, would you?”
A large, burly man with a grizzled beard stomped out from behind the sergeant and popped his gum loudly in Tim’s face. He stood a good head taller than Tim, who was already tall, and rested his hands on his hips.
“So you’re Jones, then,” the man named Manny commented. “Not too shabby.” He winked and Tim gulped hard. The man eyed him with one squinty eye before bursting into a deep belly laugh and waving over his shoulder. “Let’s go then. Harrison don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Tim fell into step behind him, watching as cops
hurried around him, some of them escorting people in handcuffs and others at their desks answering phones. He never expected to be brought down here for questioning—unless she’d changed her mind and thought maybe he had done it after all. The idea of her speaking with Sal or any of the other employees and suddenly flipping sides ate at him. By the time Manny came to a sudden stop, Tim was pissed at the situation all over again.
“She’s right back there,” Manny said and gave Tim a shove. “You kids have fun now.”
“Right, thanks. I think,” Tim mumbled as Manny continued to chuckle.
Tim straightened his jacket and marched towards the black-haired woman sitting at a desk near the corner of the room. The desk in front of hers had an empty chair, and when he drew nearer he frowned. The top was covered in a few inches of dust. His eyes found the nameplate and he tucked Jeff Carson away for a later date, wondering what happened to the man.
“Mr. Jones,” Chris said, glancing up as he approached her desk. “Thank you for coming to see me.”
“Sure, no problem,” he muttered. “Did you ask me here for questioning or to arrest me?” He hadn’t meant the words to come out so harshly.
Chris crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee, studying him with those icy grey eyes that picked up every little detail. “Is there a problem with me asking you more questions?”
“No, let’s just get it over with. I have work to do today.”
“Is that so? I thought the other partners locked you out of the accounts. What work could you possibly have to do that overrides helping me find out who’s trying to frame you for embezzlement?”
She didn’t yell it, but she didn’t have to. Her tone was enough to make Tim sulk in his chair and feel like a kid getting told off by an adult. “Nothing, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted, but don’t make it a habit.”
“Habit of what?”
Her eyes alight with amusement, she leaned closer, and the subtle scent of vanilla and leather reached his nose. “Of taking out your anger on me. Two can play at that game, and I guarantee I’ll win. It’s nice to see your black eye is fading,” she added, picking up the papers on her desk and shuffling through them.
Tim lifted a hand to his eye. “I’m surprised you didn’t say anything about it the first time we met.”
“I was told you got in a fist fight with another partner,” she said casually. “It happens.”
“Right,” he said, not sure how to respond. “What questions did you have for me? And please tell me we’re not going to run through all three-hundred files?”
She dropped the papers on her desk, tapping her pen on the surface. “And if we were?”
“I would very politely tell you off and leave. I’ve already done that once today and I’m in no mood to do it again.”
“There’s that tone again,” she warned. “I take it you had a shitty day at work.”
It was not a question. He frowned, picking at a stray thread on his jacket sleeve. “Something like that.”
“Join the club. We have hats and I’m the president, just ask around.”
Tim’s lips curled into an easy smile, and as they had the first night they met, his anger lessened. “I’m sorry. One of the partners—the man who took over my accounts—is vying to take them over permanently and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. And there’s a woman at the office who’s being a tad difficult.”
“An ex?”
“Yes, unfortunately. We had a bad break up.”
Chris stopped her tapping and dragged a notepad towards her. “Was this before the money went missing?”
“Yes, a few weeks.”
“And how long did you two date?” she asked, not looking at him.
“Not long…three months, off and on? Not that I would call it dating, really.”
“And this woman, she works under you directly or for all the partners?”
Tim’s brow furrowed as he watched Chris’ hand fly across the paper. “Technically, under me, but she does work for any of the partners in accounting when they need her to fill in a gap. What is this about? Do you think she’s involved?”
“Until I know more, everyone is a suspect. What’s the woman’s name?”
“Maya Thomas,” he told her. “She did act odd this morning.”
“Odd how? What about the days prior?”
As easy as it was to talk to Nick, it was much easier to talk to Chris. He settled into his chair and relayed Maya’s behavior over the past week to her. How that morning, she tried to flirt with him again and act as if nothing bad had happened between them. When she asked about the other partners, Tim filled her in with all the information he could, but his main concern was Sal. For the next hour and a half, she asked questions and he answered, impressed by how thorough she was for a simple embezzlement case. Granted, five-hundred million was on the line, but he never expected her to take such a keen interest in the case. While they talked, Tim took advantage of her being distracted to really see this woman, to observe the shorter black hair that suited her face perfectly. The cut was much shorter in the back, swooping long towards her chin, fitting in with her tough, biker-detective look.
The lights glinted off the black helmet behind her on the floor, and he pictured her straddling a bike, her thighs gripping tightly with each turn she made. Several different images flashed through his mind of those thighs straddling more than just her bike in tight, black jeans and knee-high boots.
“Mr. Jones?” she asked, and he shook his head. “Did you hear me?”
“Sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment there.”
Her red lips smiled at him, and she nodded to his hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair. “I can see that. Care to share?”
His face and neck burning with embarrassment, he cleared his throat. “No. I’m sorry, what was the question?”
“I asked what the usual policy was on money transfers. How long does it take to go from an account within the company to, let’s say, a client’s actual bank account?”
Tim shifted his mind away from X-rated fantasies with Chris and back to his job. “The usual time is six days. Internal transfers are completed instantaneously, but any money leaving the company takes time.”
“Yet here, it states the money was transferred within a day.”
“What?”
She handed him the paper, and he glanced over the amount taken from the company, placed in an outside account, and was gone again, all within three days. “That’s not possible.”
“Are you sure?”
“The only way someone could override the pending time would be to have permission from all seven partners. It’s a failsafe to ensure something like this can’t happen.”
“Hmm. I think I might have to take another trip to your office.”
“Of course, anything you need.”
“Monday is a holiday. Will your office be closed?”
“Yes, we always are for Memorial Day.”
She bobbed her head, her black hair swinging forward and giving him another dose of vanilla and leather scent that would keep him up all night. “Good. Do you mind going into the office that day with me? I’d prefer to be there when there are no employees.”
“Absolutely. Does the morning work for you?”
“Sounds perfect.”
They sat in silence for a few moments until Tim said, “You’re a very thorough investigator. I want to commend you for such effort for a case like this.”
Her laugh was bitter and her eye twitched. “I used to be a homicide detective.”
“Really? And you switched to fraud cases? Why?” No wonder she was such a hard-ass.
“Not by choice. Things happened and I was placed here temporarily until everything calmed down.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” he commented, spinning around in his chair to observe the rest of the bullpen. “What about this guy? Did he get fired or something? Never clean up his desk?” When he faced her
again, the pain he spied on her face caught him off-guard until she wiped a hand down it and sighed.
“No, he’s no longer on the force.”
Tim considered asking more, but she gripped the edge of her desk hard and begged him without having to open her mouth to drop it. Who was Jeff Carson to her? Their desks were close together. Maybe he was an old partner and him leaving the force was hard on her. No matter.
“Was there anything else you needed from me?”
“No, no, you’re free to leave. Thanks for this. It’s very helpful.”
“Of course, any time.” He stood awkwardly and debated bringing up the unanswered text but didn’t want to put her on the spot or be turned down in front of a room full of her colleagues.
“Oh, actually, one more thing,” she said quickly. She struggled over the words, sliding her palms down her thighs as she stood and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Coffee. Care to meet me for it…Saturday, maybe?”
Tim’s face broke into a wide grin. “Great. I’ll text you a place and time?”
“Yes, that would be perfect.” She lifted her hand as if to offer it to him then let it drop as her cheeks flushed bright red. “Well, I’ll see you then, Mr. Jones.”
“Tim,” he insisted again. He took one step backwards when she stopped him.
“When we’re not here, you can call me Chris,” she offered. “See you Saturday.”
He gave her a little wave and left the police station without a care in the world, at least for a few minutes. The drive back to the office, riddled with traffic jams and honking horns, didn’t rattle him at all. He’d landed a date with Detective Christine Harrison. No, not with the detective, with Chris. Something about this woman drew him in until she was all he saw, all he thought about. She was intoxicating and intriguing, and he bet she was a downright animal in the bedroom. Yet she acted as nervous as he was to ask him out for coffee. He had to get over that fast. He was supposed to be the suave, smooth-talking billionaire, not a nervous college kid.
“Well, you look quite pleased with yourself,” Nick commented as Tim strolled past his desk and into the office later. “The questioning go well?”
