HOT Addiction: A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 10

by Lynn Raye Harris

  “I don’t have it. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “You will find it. It is your only choice.”

  “How will I know I’ve found it?”

  “You will know.”

  He’d hung up and she’d started shaking. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she decided it had to be a lot of money. You will know.

  She’d logged into the Archer Industries’ server. She’d gone through everything, looking for any clues to a secret account, but there’d been nothing. If Eric had hidden money from her, he’d been very thorough. He’d have had to be since the company finances were her responsibility as chief financial officer. It was all in order, so she’d turned to their personal accounts. They had separate accounts, but she had access to his. There was nothing other than a few auto-pay bills that had drafted out since he died.

  She’d checked back through the months, looking for big deposits or drafts. There’d been nothing suspicious.

  Annabelle hit the button on the steering wheel to activate her phone. “Dial Molly,” she said when the computer voice asked for a command.

  “Hiya, Annabelle,” came the cheery voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hey, Mol. Need a favor. Can you keep Charlotte for a few days?” It was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, but it was also the thing she had to do. She glanced in her rearview mirror, that niggling feeling still eating at her. There was no one following her. But what if she was wrong?

  If she did what she really wanted, which was to whisk Charlotte from school and keep her close, she could very well be putting her child in danger. Her lungs constricted at the thought. Her eyes burned.

  No, I won’t do that. Even if I’m desperate to see my baby one more time.

  “Sure. Is something wrong?”

  Annabelle licked dry lips as her heart punched her in the ribs. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just need to go to DC. Contract negotiations. Very last minute.”

  Molly was used to her chaotic life this past month, so she wasn’t likely to question Annabelle’s lie.

  “All right, honey. Are you bringing her over or do you need me to pick her up?”

  “Could you get her from preschool? Just buy her whatever she needs. Don’t go to the house, okay?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation on the other end. “That’s a weird request, Belle. You’re scaring me. Is everything all right?”

  Please don’t grill me, Mol. Please. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. But there’s been some weird stuff happening in the neighborhood and I’d prefer if you don’t go over there alone.”

  “Weird stuff? What kind of weird stuff? Did you call the police?”

  “Attempted burglary I think. A neighbor told me yesterday. He called the police. They’re doing extra patrols, that kind of thing.” It was the only thing she could think of, and she cringed that Molly would see through the bullshit.

  “I didn’t hear anything about it on the news,” Molly said. “Wow.”

  “Well, you know how it is. The country club is probably asking for discretion on the issue. Don’t want to start a panic.”

  “Seems a bit extreme, but whatever. I doubt anyone’s going to bop me over the head in broad daylight in a neighborhood like yours.”

  “You never know,” Annabelle said. “Just buy her whatever she needs for a few days. You can use my credit card.”

  Annabelle had long ago set up Molly as the person who could take Charlotte in any emergency, which meant she had credit cards and authorization to pick Charlotte up from school as well as get any medical treatments necessary. If Katie Davidson was the best friend of Annabelle’s childhood, Molly Carter was the best friend of her adult life. They’d met in college when they were both pregnant and trying to finish up their senior year. They’d been tight since.

  “Okie doke. Not a problem.”

  “I’m sorry to ask, Molly. I know it’s short notice—and you’ve got your own daughter to take care of.”

  “It’s okay, babes. I can handle two little munchkins. In fact, having Charlotte around means that Becca will have someone to play with after school—which means I can get some graphics work done on the computer.”

  Annabelle wasn’t sure how much work Molly could get done with two four-year-olds running around, but she wasn’t going to question it. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “You can pay me back in chocolate cakes.”

  Annabelle laughed even though her nerves were shot. “Deal. And hey, I’m sorry if this causes trouble with the new guy.”

  Molly scoffed. “It’ll be fine. We’ve only been on a couple of dates. If he’s got a problem with me watching my best friend’s daughter on short notice, then he’s not the guy for me.”

  Annabelle felt guilty but she also loved Molly fiercely right now. There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. Molly would get suspicious and Annabelle would have to tell her what was happening—and that would put Molly and the kids in danger.

  They spoke for a few more seconds. It was excruciating to pretend everything was okay, but somehow she made it through. After she ended the call, she squeezed the wheel and told herself she’d done the right thing. Her heart disagreed, but her brain was determined.

  Okay, so getting Charlotte tucked away somewhere safe was done. That was step one. Step two was… what?

  Go through the financials again? Search for any anomalies? Except there were no anomalies. She would know if there were.

  She shook her head. Think. THINK.

  She needed to go home and search the house. Maybe Eric had left something there. She’d been planning to hire someone to clear out his room but she hadn’t done it yet. Thank God.

  She raced home and darted her gaze up and down the street before driving into her garage and powering down the door. She entered the house, disarming the alarm and then resetting it. It gave her a measure of comfort that it was still on because that meant no one had broken in while she was away.

  She kicked off her shoes and ran up the stairs to Eric’s room. It was a large room, a suite with a bedroom, sitting room, and huge bath. It looked exactly as he’d left it, not an item out of place. The maid had been in here to dust, but otherwise nothing had changed.

  Annabelle rushed over to the desk containing Eric’s personal computer. She stabbed the button to turn it on and went through the drawers and the filing cabinet while it booted up. Eric didn’t have much in the desk or the cabinet.

  The computer screen blinked, asking for a password, and her heart dived to her toes. Of course he would password protect his computer. Who wouldn’t?

  She tugged out the chair and sat down, tapping in a password she thought he might use. But the computer wouldn’t open. She tried again and still got nothing. One more time and she’d be locked out for a few hours. She shoved the chair back and chewed her lip, thinking hard. What would Eric use? It wouldn’t be Charlotte’s name. God no. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

  Nothing came to her.

  With a growl, she slapped the lid closed and undocked the laptop from the monitor. She could take the computer to her tech department and get one of the software geeks to unlock it.

  Covering all the bases, she went over to Eric’s bed, bending down to check beneath the mattress. She rifled through his drawers, his closet, his vanity, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing. He had financial magazines, tech magazines, and car magazines. He didn’t have an address book, but then Eric had been a techie. Everything he did would be digital, and there would be backups. But where? His cell phone had gone missing in the attack, and there’d been no activity on it since.

  She stopped in the middle of the room and turned around, looking at everything. The only thing that called to her was the computer, and she couldn’t get into that. Eric had more than one computer, but this was the one he’d used at home. He didn’t like carrying computers with him. Knowing
him, everything was in the cloud. But which cloud? Which service? He hadn’t hidden it in AI’s servers. All his files there had been business related.

  Annabelle snatched up the laptop and pivoted. She needed to go over to Archer Industries right now and get someone to break into it. She rushed into her room and opened the safe, taking out her pistol and loading it. She hadn’t shot a gun in years, but Dex had taught her how, and she used to be good at it. Her heart pinched at the thought of Dex, but she shoved a mental wall up, blocking him from view before she ran to the garage and fired up the Mercedes. The door powered up slowly. She didn’t wait for it to finish before she pressed the gas and shot backward onto the street. Before she could accelerate, a truck pulled in front of her, blocking her escape.

  She scrambled for her purse and the pistol she’d stuffed inside it—but the truck door opened and a familiar figure got out. He sauntered over to the passenger side of her car and her temperature shot up a hundred degrees at that smooth, rolling gait.

  “You need to put the car back in the garage, Annabelle,” Dex drawled, his voice utterly calm through the glass. “And then you need to come with me.”

  4

  Dex had never gotten a chance to shoot. He’d been setting up Jane when his phone rang. His team leader, Matt “Richie Rich” Girard, had been on the other end.

  “Eric Archer’s company was developing a revolutionary technology that the US government wanted in the worst way,” Richie had said. “They’ve been doing tests on the battery life of drones and have found a way to recharge using radio waves. The drone doesn’t have to land to do it. It’s midair, free, and prolongs the mission indefinitely.”

  Dex had been impressed. Who knew Eric Archer had it in him? He’d been a decent student but not a genius. Then again, the dude came from money—and that got you a lot in life. Including, apparently, high-tech companies with revolutionary products. When Dex had been growing up, Archer Industries made computer parts and electrical circuits. Looks like they’d branched out.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, the implications are huge—but Archer never delivered.”

  “And?” Dex asked, his mind reeling.

  “He died in Africa. The story is that he was torn apart by animals on a safari, but the truth is he went to meet with a Russian, presumably to sell the technology to him. We don’t know if he delivered it or not. But Archer took the Russian’s money—and something went wrong. CIA intel indicates the Russian shot Archer and threw him to the animals.”

  “And he wants his money back.”

  “Yep.”

  “Seems like it would have been smarter to get it back before killing Eric.”

  “You’d think. Probably more going on here than the CIA knows.”

  Dex sighed. “I’m going to guess the money’s not at the local branch office.”

  “Nope, definitely not. The Archer accounts aren’t exactly flush.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Means that Annabelle Quinn-Archer is on a budget. A healthy budget at the moment, but still a budget. There’s no fortune in any of their accounts.”

  “Do we know who this Russian is? Or where he is? Or why it’s taken him a month to come looking for Annabelle?”

  “We’re working on it. But at the moment, no to all questions.”

  “So Annabelle probably is in danger.”

  “Yeah, I’d say so.”

  Which was why Dex was now standing there looking at a frantic Annabelle. It was possible she knew more than she was letting on about Eric and the Russian, but her fear was real. Her eyes were saucers and her hands trembled as she pushed her blond hair from her face. He could see the butt of a pistol in her purse, and there was a laptop on the passenger seat.

  She powered down the window. “I need to go to the office.”

  “We can talk about that after you get in the truck with me.”

  Her brows arrowed down. “Why should I? You told me you didn’t care earlier. What’s changed?”

  For someone who’d been so desperate this afternoon, she sure was reluctant to trust him now. Because something had happened? Because she’d found where the money was and she was planning to leave town?

  “I was pissed off. I shouldn’t have said that.” He was still pissed, but now he was concerned. He didn’t have to like Annabelle to want to keep her safe. Even if she was more involved in Eric’s dirty dealings than she let on, she was still in danger. Why come to him otherwise?

  Her eyes narrowed. “How did you find me? I didn’t tell you where I live.”

  “Honey, everyone knows where the Archers live. It’s hardly a secret.” He lifted his head and studied the house for a moment—the huge, white stucco house with the circular drive and the six-car garage. “Not very subtle, is it?”

  Her pretty blue eyes clouded. “It’s what Eric wanted.”

  “And Eric always got what Eric wanted,” he murmured.

  Annabelle sat up a little straighter, her prim nose in the air. “Not always. I think I mentioned that earlier.”

  Dex snorted. “High school and life are two entirely different things. Now park the car in the garage and let’s get out of here.”

  She hesitated for only a moment before she did as he said. He got into his truck and pulled it into her driveway, darting a glance around as he did so. The houses here were huge and easy to find. The community was gated, but that was a joke since he’d gotten through with no trouble.

  There was another car on the street about a block away. A black Chrysler sedan with tinted windows, it looked exactly like something the government would send an agent in. Not that they had, but Dex wouldn’t take it for granted. He eased his sidearm from the glove compartment and tucked it into the hidden holster at the back of his jeans. Then he opened the door and got out just as Annabelle emerged from inside the garage.

  “I have to go in the house to close the garage. I’ll come out the front door.”

  He took a step forward. “Going with you.”

  “I’ll only be a moment.”

  “Do you want my help or not, Annabelle?”

  She blinked. “Yes.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.” He ducked beneath the garage door, and she went over to the wall and pressed a button. The door glided down as she unlocked the interior entry to the house. He could hear her punch in a code to silence the alarm. Once inside, he closed the door and locked it.

  She’d shouldered her purse and tucked the laptop under her arm. Not hers, most likely. If it had been, she’d have had a bag for it. Probably Eric’s.

  Dex strode over to the front window and eased the curtain back. No movement from the car on the street. He looked over his shoulder at Annabelle.

  “Can you pack a bag real quick?”

  “I… Yes, I suppose I can.”

  “Then go. Double-time, Annabelle.”

  She dropped her purse and the laptop and trotted across the massive living area and into a hallway. He divided his attention between the street and the interior of the house, which was spectacular. Every lottery winner’s dream come true. A house with giant rooms, tall ceilings, copious wood moldings, and furnishings that cost more than he made in a year.

  Matt Girard had said Annabelle was on a budget, but it must be a sizable one.

  A few moments later, she came racing out of the bedroom with a black leather duffel. She’d slipped on flat shoes with her cropped trousers, and she looked no less stylish than she had with high heels. She stuffed the laptop into the duffel, then shouldered her purse.

  “Ready.”

  With a last look at the street, he went over and took her bag. She was so much shorter without the heels, and her head tilted back sharply as she met his gaze. He had a sudden urge to press his mouth to hers, which made him angry. He took a step back.

  “Then let’s go,” he clipped out.

  She fished her keys from her pocket and hit a button to set the alarm. Then she went and jerked the door open. They strode
to his truck and he held the door for her. He slung her bag onto the back seat and went around to get in the driver’s side.

  After he started the engine, he turned to her. “You’re going to need to hold on, Annabelle. It might get bumpy.”

  “Why? What are you talking about?”

  He didn’t bother answering as he backed out of the drive and headed toward the road that led out of the subdivision. The black sedan also pulled away from the curb.

  He let them follow him through the neighborhood, but when he reached the highway, he flicked on the signal to turn right—and then went left, jamming the accelerator and rocketing into traffic. Annabelle let out a scream.

  “Are you crazy?” she demanded.

  “Yeah.” He glanced in the rearview and saw the sedan leap into traffic. He gave the truck another shot of gas. “Where’s your daughter, Annabelle?”

  She’d grabbed the overhead handle for support. “W-with a friend. I didn’t want her anywhere near me right now.”

  “That’s probably wise. Can you trust the friend?”

  “Of course I can! Molly would protect Charlotte with her life if she had to.”

  Dex shot her a look. “And do you really want her to have to do that?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  He took a hard right at the last second, and Annabelle squeaked as the seat belt anchored her in place.

  “Fucking hell,” she yelled when she got her voice back. “Are you trying to kill us both?”

  “Nope. Trying to lose a tail.”

  She gasped. “A tail? Someone’s following you?”

  “Actually, they’re following you. You didn’t see the black car down the street?”

  She’d gone pale. “Cars park on the street sometimes. I didn’t think anything of it.”

  “Why? You have fucking circular driveways and shit. There’s room for visitors in those massive drives.”

  “It’s just the way it is. Nobody wants to get blocked in, so visitors sometimes park on the street.” She lowered her gaze to her lap. “Dammit, I should have known. I’ve felt like someone was following me—but I was never sure.”

  “As soon as we’re clear of this, I want you to call your friend and have her take Charlotte somewhere.”