Though different in many ways, they were amazingly in sync. Her certainty about him surprised her, especially since she'd learned to second-guess herself in most areas of her life. But there weren't any doubts about Matt. She wanted it. The love. The partnership. The family she'd always imagined. But allowing herself to fall for him meant risking her walls— built around the painful knowledge that you could lose the people you loved. It meant relying on him. Trusting him.
As though she'd conjured him with her thoughts, Matt tapped softly on the door.
"Everything okay?"
"I couldn't sleep." The heat of his knowing eyes sought hers in the darkness, As Matt crossed the room, she was bathed in a tremendous sense of well-being. Despite the smoldering awareness stretching taut between them, Julie felt utterly safe with him. His nearness felt like a shield, a protective force surrounding her.
"I missed you."
"Me too." Forgetting her worries, she embraced the happiness coursing through her as he tugged her closer. Kissing him stole nearly all her concentration. He was sturdy and sure, his hands planted on her hips— as though staking a claim.
What she felt for Matt was almost dangerously perfect. As though it might be too good to possibly last. But as quickly as doubt rose, Julie forced it aside— determined not to question her newfound joy.
His beautiful eyes were red-rimmed with fatigue, his features drawn despite his smile.
"Who'd you watch tonight?"
"What makes you think that?"
Raising her gaze to the ceiling, she gave in too easily and guided him to the foot of the bed. Once Matt was settled, she scooted behind him to rub his shoulders. "You look exhausted."
"God— that's good," he admitted, closing his eyes on a relaxed sigh. "I feel as though I haven't slept in a week."
"I'm not forgetting you haven't answered me."
"We did a little nosing around before we ended up at KTec," he admitted.
Julie startled. "You broke in? I could have let you in."
"We break— we don't enter. Mojo accessed your systems from her laptop."
"What do you mean— accessed? I spent a fortune. It's supposed to-"
"Babe— we do this for a living."
"But Sean's daughter just- You made it sound easy."
Matt shrugged. "She's really good."
Did anything work as it was supposed to? Deflated, Julie gave up. "Did you find anything?"
"Since Bernie Lambeth seems to have gone AWOL, we dug around in his files."
"And?"
"Not much there. At least nothing incriminating." Yawning, Matt sprawled on the bed next to her. "Get this— from what Mullaney could see, there was nothing on Riding, either.""So, he's just an ass." She swallowed her disappointment. Stunned that he was revealing details, Julie stroked the tense muscles in his back. Maybe she could massage the information from him. "What about Dandridge?" She tensed, waiting for his response.
His voice was muffled. "Haven't been there yet. According to MoJo, he was home tonight, messin' with his arm candy."
But— Dandridge said he'd be out of town. Frowning, her fingers paused on seriously honed muscles. Should she convince Maddie to scrap their plans?
***
"How do you learn this stuff?"
"Stakeouts." Matt forced his eyes open, enjoying the lazy, sensual feeling of her warm, capable hands on his skin. "We're dangerously predictable. If I staked you out, in three days I'd know where you shop, work— your favorite place for takeout. Add that to what I discover from analyzing your social network and banking records and the picture's nearly complete."
Julie's eyes registered dismay. "Doesn't that bother you?"
"In my line of work, it's extremely helpful. But if I were on the receiving end, I'd find it pretty intrusive."
"Is that what you do when you're undercover?" He groaned when she kneaded a tight spot between his shoulder blades. "Where does the forensic accounting come in?"
It was getting harder to concentrate. Between the feel of her hands and the sleep deficit that was now approaching ten days, he blinked several times. "Usually I pass myself off as a management consultant." 'Consultant' was a nebulous term allowing him to fly under the radar. He was especially skilled at worming his way behind a dealer's defenses without raising suspicion. Like a chameleon, he shifted specialties as needed— accountant, banker, developer— whatever it required to get him within spitting distance of the player his team was trying to apprehend.
"Do you always play the same role?"
"Depends on my goal." In an effort to stave off sleep, Matt rolled over, stacking an arm under his head. Surprised, he discovered genuine interest in her eyes. "Sometimes I'm infiltrating the cartel. Sometimes we're trying to bust it up from the outside. Typically, I'm searching for money laundering, so I review financial transactions. But you can find patterns everywhere."
A smile tugged at Julie's luscious mouth. "How do you know where to look?"
"One of their biggest vulnerabilities is all the money they make. It has to be laundered before it can be safely spent. The days of walking into a bank with a suitcase of money are over— at least in this country." Although Matt could think of several places he'd been sent where old-fashioned bribes were the time-honored method of conducting business. If bribery didn't work, the threat of violence typically rid an honest man of his reluctance.
When his phone rang a moment later, she startled. Matt tugged her closer, not fighting the possessive urge to reassure her. "I should take this."
Checking his watch, a sense of foreboding lurked like storm clouds. An urgent call after midnight was never good. Their brief respite of normalcy had ended.
Twenty minutes later, he returned. It had taken that long to notify the guards on duty. His gut strumming at high alert, he'd doubled back to check them. Had the guards in the garage been the right guys? Had they used the right signals? He'd reconfirmed their identity with Mullaney.
Julie waited, eyes wide with concern. "That was Finn. They fished a body out of the bay."
She drew in a swift, stabbing breath. "W-who is it?"
"Lambeth."
"H-he has two kids."
"He led you to the place you were nearly killed." He released a frustrated breath. "I just want this over."
Waiting until he locked the door, Julie's gaze was determined. "What else haven't you told me?"
Staring at her, he acknowledged the battle he was losing. Since the case started, he'd fought to keep his emotions in check. To keep from liking her. When denial hadn't worked, he'd accepted defeat. Now— it was love he fought to keep in check. He loved her. It surged through his veins and lived in his skin. He welcomed it— but the timing clearly sucked. Because love brought with it a new enemy to battle. His fear for her safety. For the clock running out of time. For the walls that seemed to be closing in. Increasingly, he wondered whether he would be paralyzed by it.
"Your friend, Stephens? The stalker employee you claimed was harmless? He died in the warehouse shootout."
Blanching, she sank down on the bed. "Will this ever end?"
"How do you think I feel? How the hell can I protect you when we still don't know who we're dealing with?" Matt's ragged breathing broke the thick silence. "This would be hard enough if you were just a witness. But now— I'm emotionally involved."
"And— you regret that." Julie's voice suggested finality— as though she'd expected it all along.
"I don't regret anything about meeting you," he corrected. "It just complicates things."
Hope flared in her eyes as she closed the distance between them. He wondered how long it would take before she accepted he wasn't going anywhere. Tentatively, she slipped into his arms. And Matt discovered he desperately needed the contact. He hauled her against him, not wanting to let go.
"Nothing will happen." Her voice soothed as her fingers wove through his hair. "You'll find him."
He hated that she was afraid. Over the past several days, s
he'd opened up about her father. Her childhood. And he'd held his breath. She'd been alone for so long— was so skittish about trusting anyone. Julie's loneliness, the loss of her mother, her fear of never being good enough to hold her dad's attention— made him ache for her.
"You don't know what these people are capable of." As much as Matt wished to reassure her, he knew Julie's fear of trusting him wouldn't diminish with words. Only his actions over time would help her believe.
She smiled, her eyes lit from within. "I know what you're capable of."
He needed her warmth. Needed her confidence in his ability—when he wasn't sure he believed it himself. Holding Julie made him believe anything was possible. They were so damn good together. He didn't want it to end.
They were so close. All he had to do was just not screw up. Not do something stupid that would get her killed. Each day the list of suspects narrowed. As the noose cinched tighter, each day grew more dangerous. Because the closer they came to solving the case, their enemy would know it, too.
***
Julie woke when he pulled back the covers. He was leaving again. "Hey-"
"I didn't mean to wake you." Unhurried, Matt kissed her, breathing hard when he finally drew back.
Ignoring the sizzle of sexual chemistry, she launched her test balloon. "When are you hitting Dandridge's place?"
When his hand hesitated at her waist, she experienced a vibe of certainty. Matt knew— but wasn't telling. After everything they'd discussed, he still wouldn't confide in her.
"Mullaney will probably let me know today."
A wave of despair washed over her as she was forced to acknowledge the truth. Schooling her expression, she hoped the betrayal didn't show in her eyes. How could they ever last? Without something as basic as trust?
"Let me go with you." If Matt wouldn't be truthful, the least she could do was make it uncomfortable for him.
"We'll see," he muttered, nuzzling her neck. "I want you safe."
"You know it's Dandridge," she insisted.
"Even if I agreed— you'd be sitting in a van." Matt's lips hovered over the pulse in her throat. "No way in hell you're going inside."
Her stomach clenched with heat when his mouth sought her breast. "B-but I might see— something . . . that stands— that stands-" The thought disintegrated when his hand moved between her thighs. "You're so hot— so incredibly beautiful."
"I c-could help-" She shuddered as longing swept over her. Was Matt distracting her— with sex? For all the intimacy they didn't share— physically, their bodies were completely in sync. Would it be like this if they remained together? Always holding back— keeping secrets from each other?
"I need you, Jules." An indefinable emotion flared in his eyes as he cradled her hips. "I . . . need you."
She pulled him closer. There was no one to blame for her disillusionment. The facts stared her in the face. Julie watched the future— the might-have-been as it dissolved before her eyes. As Matt's urgency became hers, she released her scattered thoughts. There would be plenty of time later for regret.
***
"Did you bait the hook?"
He leaned back in his leather chair. "Twice. She'd have to be stupid to miss it."
"It's been a nice run here."
Was that regret he heard? He stared at his phone. "We lasted several years beyond what I'd imagined."
"So— you're sure she'll head your way?"
He chuckled. "Someone accessed my calendar. Have your guy trail her out there. Once she's out of the way, our last problem here is solved."
"Is the boat ready?"
"Ready for some sun," he acknowledged. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
***
"Are you sure this will work?" Julie shifted the Gucci bag to her arm.
"I've watched Jessica do it a million times." Maddie checked her lipstick.
"Jessica?"
"Fletcher. You know . . . from Murder, She Wrote. She always managed to gain entrance with relative ease."
Julie experienced a swift jolt of fear as Madeline snapped her compact shut. Dear God, Matt hadn't been joking. His mother might actually be crazy. "Maddie— that wasn't real."
"Nonsense. I brought several stickpins. One of them will do the trick."
Stickpins? The afternoon had disaster written all over it. But there'd be turning back,
even if Julie could've convinced her. Madeline had been in charge since they'd slipped from her
building through the loading dock. Now, piloting her luxurious Mercedes, she cruised the
streets of Cambridge in search of Dandridge's home.
"I may have visited— a cocktail party, I believe." Maddie glanced at her "What number?"
"Eighty-seven. On the left in another block."
"I've been on this street," she muttered.
"That's it. Slow down."
Maddie hit the brakes. "That's the house," she cried. "I remember— a large foyer done in apricot, I believe. The hors d'oeuvres were fantastic. I inquired about the caterer-"
"Mrs. Stanhope-" Julie reined in her galloping heart. They would end up in jail. While Maddie prattled on about the cocktail shrimp, they'd be caught. She dragged in a panicked breath. "Don't park here. It's too obvious. Let's move up the block."
"Good idea. Exactly what Jessica would do."
They parked in the shade of a centuries-old tree. Madeline had been right about one thing— they were certainly dressed for the neighborhood. She'd insisted they dress for tea at the Waldorf. Stumbling in borrowed pumps, Julie had thought only of stealth and a quick getaway when she'd argued for jeans. But this was old-money Boston. Maddie's Mercedes blended perfectly at the curb.
Backtracking to the corner, Ray's house was on the right. Maddie adjusted her shopping bags, looking to any passerby like a wealthy dowager returning from a shopping spree.
"You're positive he's not-"
"Will you relax? Raymond is vacationing with his latest paramour."
"But Matt said he was home last night," she insisted, trying not to panic. "His secretary is sure?"
"Lois has been with Raymond for decades."
"She would tell you his personal plans?"
Madeline's stare bored into her. "Treat your staff respectfully; they remain loyal forever. Take them for granted and they'll screw you over in a heartbeat."
As they drew closer to their doom, Julie tried to avoid thinking about what they were about to do. What she'd let Madeline talk her into after three pots of tea and the ill-advised bottle of merlot. "Lois. . . has an issue?"
"Raymond's lady friend is rather pushy."
Dandridge's home had a wide, shadowed front porch. . . perfect for cover while Maddie finagled the locks. "Think he's tight with the neighbors?"
Madeline snorted. "In this neighborhood you bump into friends at the club. You don't chat over the back fence."
"No car in the driveway. Think he has a maid?"
"I haven't met a man yet who keeps a decent house. Socks on the floor. . . toilet seat up-"
"We should get moving." Flashing to an image of them in matching handcuffs, she tugged Madeline up the steps and into the shadows around the door.
Maddie stared at the hand clutching her arm. "Juliet, if we do bump into the maid, why don't I handle it?" Withdrawing a stickpin from her arsenal, she examined it. "You're terribly skittish."
Skittish? She was petrified. This . . . escapade she'd allowed herself to be talked into could be catastrophic. She'd allowed her frustration with Matt to override her brain, convincing her to do something verging on insanity.
Madeline attacked the lock, her expression determined. "I've seen Matthew do this."
Matthew would kill them. He could never find out. Julie began pacing after stickpin number two failed— a gift from Madeline's aunt Rose.
"This is more difficult than I expected." Maddie's exasperated admission came several minutes later after the selection of a fourth pin (that was sure to work this time).
"Aha."
Julie bolted to the door, nearly toppling a planter. "You got it?"
"I'm certain this will work." Her voice muffled, Madeline bent over the lock.
She raised her gaze to the porch ceiling. Dear God, not another story. Each pin represented a memory. "You're sure?"
"This was from my Geoffrey on our wedding day." Madeline kissed it reverently before sliding it into the lock. "Come on darling, I need your help."
Impulsively, Julie chuckled. Jail or not, Madeline was pretty cool. She couldn't help wondering what her mom Delia would have been like. She'd always imagined they'd be close. Would they have shopped together like Tori and her mom?
At the resounding pop of the lock, she froze.
"Bingo! Thank you, love." Madeline's eyes sparkled with excitement.
Julie couldn't contain her shiver. Would she and Delia have met on a sunny Saturday for a little brunch and burglary?
***
"We have a problem." MaryJo handed binoculars to her father. "Someone's inside."
Mullaney scowled. "You said he was out today-"
"He's on vacation," she assured. "His personal calendar is blocked for the rest of the week."
"Well, who the hell's inside?"
"Dad— your blood pressure."
Hearing the commotion, Matt crawled to the front. Mullaney appeared apoplectic. "What's wrong?"
Tricked out in a gray jumpsuit, a nametag across the lapel, dusty work boots and a cap completed Sean's disguise. Except for the mottled cheeks and bugged-out eyes, the old man looked like a utility repairman.
Before leaving headquarters, Mullaney placed magnetic placards on the nondescript panel van. They were now employees of Mo's Appliance, down to the photo IDs Sean painstakingly created the previous night. If questioned, they could flash the carbon work order indicating a plumbing leak at the Dandridge residence. . . or maybe the Dantes' six doors down. A legitimate mistake no one would check. Mullaney might appear brash, but when it came to ops, he prepped for any possible problem.
Out of the Mist (Can't Help Falling Book 1) Page 25
