The Ultimate Romantic Suspense Set (8 romantic suspense novels from 8 bestselling authors for 99c)

by Lee Taylor

“I have to poke into every aspect of your life whether you want me to or not,” she whispered.

  He tightened his hold around her neck. “That’s exactly what I had wanted you to do. That’s why I had sent for you, Vega.”

  Stars began to dance in front of her eyes as his hands continued to squeeze. He was killing her, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.

  “But I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to see you or your sister harmed.”

  A threat?

  “Keep Fiona safe. Don’t go near Six-Star.”

  Sure sounded like a threat. This was exactly why she shied away from relationships where she might slip up and make herself vulnerable.

  His iron grip closed off her airway. “Greg Harper kept a secret set of files in his office. There’s too much incriminating information in those files. It will get someone killed. I don’t want you near them. Do you understand me?”

  Vega’s head bobbed as waves of fuzzy dizziness attacked. A shadowy Brer Rabbit hopped across her path, or was that just a large rat? Her lungs pounded against her chest and struggled for that next fresh breath that just wasn’t coming. She did manage to nod when he asked again if she could hear him. Not for long, but for the moment the pathway between her ears and her head still sparked.

  “Good.”

  Vega could no longer see Grayson. Her eyesight dimmed even further and then faded to nothingness. The sounds around her were pulling away. Grayson’s voice sounded like it had to travel through a long tunnel to reach her. The words he spoke made no sense. His fingers continued to tighten around her throat.

  “We will meet again, sweet.” She felt the feather-light touch of his lips brushing hers—and then nothing at all.

  * * * *

  “Damn it, stop fussing over me.”

  Fiona, armed with concealer, powder, and liquid base makeup, poked and wiped at Vega’s bruised cheek and neck. She’d been fussing all morning.

  “You shouldn’t have gone unarmed,” Fiona scolded for the sixth time that morning. Vega was counting. “We both knew Grayson was keeping an eye on you. That letter you’d jammed into your pocket the night we picked up poor, confused Matt Lockler said as much.”

  “You went through my pockets?” Vega pushed Fiona away and dabbed at her neck with a little powder. She was more than capable of concealing a faint bruise on her own.

  “Had to. You won’t tell me anything.”

  “Won’t I? I’ll tell you this. Grayson says he’ll kill you if I try to get into his dead partner’s files at Six-Star. You know, Greg Harper, the guy Grayson hacked to bits?”

  “He’s pushing your buttons.” Fiona dropped a handful of makeup on the bed and began pacing, mimicking the wide stride their father used to make when he sank deep into his thoughts. “He wants you to do something he couldn’t do when I bumped into him at Six-Star.”

  “Bumped into him at Six-Star. That’s a funny way of putting it. He saved your ass, Fiona. Tell me about those security guards again.”

  “There’s not much to tell. They were dressed all in black and wore masks. I heard one say—at least I think I heard one say this, I was nearly unconscious at the time—well, I think he said he needed to kill me if I got too close. And then the other said he wanted to have some fun with me since I was going to be killed anyway.” Fiona turned to Vega then and blazed a grin. “See, Vega. I was getting close.”

  Vega could only shake her head. Only her sister would find a way to turn a near-death experience into a validation of her abilities. “What do you think you were getting close to?”

  Fiona shrugged elegantly. “Don’t know. I didn’t find anything…I was close to finding it.”

  “I think Grayson’s threat against you is meant to prod me. To get me to go to Six-Star and investigate Harper’s office and find these missing files for him.” Vega, too wrapped up in her line of thinking, barely noticed Fiona bouncing on her heels. “I bet he thinks if he asked me to investigate the files, I’d ignore him, thinking he was sending me down the wrong path. He’d be right, too.”

  “I said all that already. Really, Vega, you should start listening to me. He’s got you chasing your own tail. But, I agree, we do need to return to Six-Star. That guard had said I was getting close.”

  Vega didn’t like the way Fiona continually emphasized how she’d gotten close to getting killed. It just wasn’t something Vega wanted to be reminded of. “It might still be a false lead. Yet, because of how it was presented and because of what happened to you, this lead begs to be followed.”

  “Exactly!” Fiona darted into the adjoining room.

  Vega got up from the bed and leaned against the doorframe between the two rooms. Her sister was pulling out a black spandex cat suit and matching knee-high, lace-up boots sporting a three-inch heel.

  “What in the hell do you intend to do with that outfit?” Vega asked. It was either ask or laugh aloud.

  “Wear it for our break-in.”

  “You don’t mean…? Don’t tell me you wore that crazy cat suit and impossibly high-heeled boots on your first outing at Six-Star?” Vega buried her head in her hand, knowing all too well the answer. “You’re damned lucky you didn’t break an ankle running up the stairs away from those security guards.”

  Fiona snorted. “I didn’t break an ankle,” she muttered under her breath. “Plus, it makes good fashion sense.”

  “Put your Halloween costume away, Fiona. I’ve no intention of breaking into Six-Star Enterprises.”

  “But you said…?”

  “I said I would have a look at those files. I’m not planning to break the law to do so.” Vega glowered at Fiona just like their mother glowered. It never was very effective.

  “They won’t let you in. The head of the company—” Fiona dived across her bed to grab her notebook lying out on the bedside table, she moved quite gracefully, Vega was forced to admit. “Joshua Whitfield, the third partner of Six-Star and the only man in charge of the company, wouldn’t even let me come meet with him or have a peek at the personnel files. That’s where I was headed when I was getting close. To the personnel files.”

  “Whitfield will cooperate.” Vega sounded surer of herself than she felt. She too hit a brick wall when trying to wrest information from the tight-lipped Whitfield. But then, that was before she first encountered Grayson Walker.

  This was no longer just an assignment to Vega. This was her proving ground. Grayson had run circles around her, making her the fool far too often. Not only was a great deal of money at stake, but also apprehending Grayson would give her another chance to prove her father wrong. To prove she was worthy of his pride.

  “Grayson’s had two opportunities to kill me…but he hasn’t,” Vega wondered aloud. “Why?”

  “Four,” Fiona said.

  “What?”

  “You’ve given him four opportunities to kill you. Which two are you forgetting?”

  “The number isn’t important.” But that got Vega wondering herself which two had slipped her mind. There was the time he shot her in the middle of the swamp. There was last night.

  “The number is important. I was nearly killed only once, and I’ve been working on this assignment longer than you have.” Fiona propped her hands on her hips and gave her long, brown hair a toss. “I bet you don’t count last night.”

  “I do count last night.” And then she remembered Grayson chained her to the cooler in the convenience store. He could have easily shot her then.

  “He expected you the night you picked up Matt Lockler. Even you were afraid he’d rigged a bomb for you to trip.”

  “None of that matters. I’m alive and I’ll be his downfall.” Brave words to be spouting when Vega had no clue how she was going to make that happen. He should’ve killed her, but he hadn’t. Why?

  Those damned heated kisses of his were confusing the hell out of her. Why had he kissed her when a killer would have used a more permanent means of silencing her?

  Was he truly innocen
t?

  She needed to get a peek at those files in Greg’s office.

  “While I’m banging on doors at Six-Star Enterprises—”

  “They won’t let you see anything,” Fiona interrupted.

  “We’ll see. In the meantime, I don’t want to waste today. Matt Lockler might have some information about Grayson in that muddled head of his. Would you mind questioning him? You’ll have to charm his lawyers in order to get in, of course.”

  “Of course! I can impress on Lockler’s lawyers how his cooperation could only help his case. They’ll give me full access.”

  Giving the task to Fiona seemed harmless enough. Besides, questioning Lockler was something that needed to be done.

  “Good.” Vega stepped back into her room. “We better get busy then. We’ve both got a lot to do.”

  Fiona tossed her arms around Vega’s neck, nearly knocking her to the ground. “Thank you.” Fiona squeezed harder. “Thank you for believing in me, even just a little.”

  * * * *

  Vega didn’t bother to make an appointment with Joshua Whitfield. He wouldn’t grant her one, for one thing. She wanted the element of surprise on her side, for another. Though she’d told Fiona that she wouldn’t be breaking the law to get what she needed, she never promised not to bend it a little.

  After a phone call to an inside contact at Six-Star she’d made when searching for Grayson the first time, she discovered that Whitfield was in town and would be spending the day handling business from his Six-Star office. How fortunate.

  Vega arrived at the Six-Star glass and steel building a few minutes past ten that morning. Her contact, Frank, was the security guard working the front desk. He’d known Vega for several years, and was happy to provide information and to clear her through security without confiscating her Beretta or handheld Taser.

  Frank directed her to Whitfield’s office on the top floor while calling for the elevator.

  “If anyone asks,” Vega said to him as she stepped inside, “you never saw me. I don’t want you to get into trouble for this.”

  “Don’t worry about me none.” Frank blushed. “Just take care of yourself. There’s some nasty business going down on those upper floors. Dirty, nasty business I’m keeping clear of.”

  On her way through the outer offices on the top floor, Vega grabbed a handful of letters from a mail cart and proceeded through the sanitized office as if she belonged.

  No one questioned her until she reached the secretary guarding Whitfield’s door.

  “May I help you?” The secretary, her jet-black hair pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head, barked the question with no intention of actually offering any help.

  “No, I don’t think you can,” Vega said before brushing past the desk and throwing open the double oak doors to Whitfield’s corner office.

  A man in his mid-fifties with a full head of silver hair and a suit as expensive as those worn by Detroit’s newest bad boy, Finn Kayne, sat behind a massive brushed aluminum and oak desk. He glanced up at the intrusion and appeared bored by it.

  “Whitfield,” Vega said. She calmly crossed the room to stand directly in front of his desk. “I’m Vega Brookes, the one you’ve been ignoring. My firm has been hired to find Grayson Walker and I need to have a look around Greg Harper’s office.”

  Whitfield may have well been dead. His lifeless expression gave away nothing. He sat tall in the leather chair and steepled his fingers in front of his pursed lips, listening.

  “I happen to know investors are running from Six-Star. With one of the two active partners dead and the other accused of murdering him, finding Grayson Walker and settling this mess could help lure back those fleeing dollars.”

  “Investors are meaningless to me, Miss Brookes. Six-Star has no need of outside funds.” He smiled then. The dead expression cooled the room by at least twenty degrees. “You are wasting my time. Please leave, Miss Brookes.”

  Vega narrowed her eyes and stared down Whitfield. But this man hadn’t risen to the top of investment banking by caving to pressure. He gave her another little smile before turning his attentions to his nails.

  “I get them done every week,” he said. “It’s extravagant, I know. But I can’t stand dirty nails. I pay others to get dirt under their nails for me.”

  Vega listened. There had to be a threat couched in there somewhere. But she hadn’t earned a reputation as a damned good bounty hunter by giving up easily, either.

  “Security will be here in a moment,” he said. “I suggest you leave before they arrive.”

  Three members of Whitfield’s personal security team, dressed in black—no masks—marched into the office not a breath later, with automatic weapons tucked under their arms.

  “What are you doing to warrant this level of security, Whitfield?” Vega leaned over his desk and asked. The question sounded like an accusation, because she meant it to.

  He smiled, pushed back his chair, and tilted his head in a mock salute. “Goodbye, Miss Brookes.”

  The closest guard poked her with the barrel of his gun.

  “Whitfield.” Vega shook her head slowly. “I really get testy when threatened with a gun. Call off your men, give me access to Harper’s office and we’ll have no problems, you and I.” Testy was an understatement. Vega’s blood was boiling. These security guards fit Fiona’s description of the men who had threatened her life, which meant Whitfield had probably ordered them to attack Fiona if she got too close.

  Too close to what? That pesky unanswered question was the only thing keeping Vega’s itchy fingers from shaking Whitfield until he confessed to trying to harm her sister. Instead, when the guard jabbed the barrel of his automatic into Vega’s side again, she backhanded him in the face and twisted the gun out of his hands. Before the other two guards could even think of reacting, Vega turned the weapon on Whitfield.

  “Perhaps I need to repeat myself.” She took her time to adjust the aim so he had no doubt the shot from the gun would be fatal. “Call off your men and give me access to Harper’s office.”

  A bead of sweat broke out on Whitfield’s smooth brow. His lips tightened and turned white as he stared at Vega in disbelief. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” he said very calmly. “I could have you arrested.”

  “But you won’t.” She felt very confident on that account.

  “Won’t I?”

  “No. Because my sister can identify at least one of these three men behind me as her attacker the other night—an attacker who admitted he’d been ordered to kill her. I can only assume this order came from his employer—you?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A second bead of sweat rose on Whitfield’s forehead.

  Staring down an enemy from across a boardroom table and staying cool was unquestionably Whitfield’s strength. But staring down an enemy’s gun barrel put him in Vega’s territory. She knew this was a battle she could win.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked, after a long stretch of silence.

  “This will be the third time I’ve had to tell you, Whitfield. Listen, will ya? Call off your men and give me access to Harper’s office.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vega kept Whitfield close to her, the barrel of his guard’s small automatic pressed firmly in his side as they made their way to Greg Harper’s office. She left two of his three guards handcuffed in his office. The other—the one who had threatened Fiona—was no longer armed. She had him lead the way.

  “I could have you killed for this,” Whitfield grumbled.

  “You could,” Vega agreed. “Just show me Greg’s office. I really don’t care what you do with this company. I’m not the law.” She stopped then and slammed Whitfield against the nearest wall. “Neither is my sister. Keep her out of any battles you might be having with the police, the FBI, whoever…or I might just take a real serious interest in your business.” To emphasize the point, Vega jammed the tip of the automatic into the soft skin just underne
ath his chin.

  “Please,” Whitfield wheezed. Stark terror drained the little color he had from his cheeks. “We can work this out.”

  “For your sake, I sure hope so.” She pulled the gun away and let him slide partway down the wall before catching his collar and giving him a shove to continue down the hallway. They passed a vacant secretary desk sitting beside a pair of double wooden doors. The brass nameplate tacked to the one door proclaimed the office to be Greg Harper’s.

  Yellow police tape sealed the doors with the warning ‘do not cross’. Vega pulled the tape down and stepped aside to let Whitfield use his key on the lock.

  The office, about the size of Whitfield’s, had been picked clean. Not a lick of furniture or a scrap of paper remained inside. Vega directed Whitfield and the guard to stand at the far end of the room by a bank of windows while she stood in the middle of the room and wondered if Grayson really expected her to find something. Was this just another wild chase he was sending her on?

  He hadn’t seemed happy she’d been poking around in his hometown. Maybe this was just a diversion to keep her from questioning someone specific there.

  Whitfield watched like a hovering vulture as she stared blindly at the blank walls. A cool smile had returned to his lips.

  “If you leave right now, I won’t press charges,” he said.

  “You won’t press charges an hour from now, either.” She held her ground and continued to stare at the walls and wonder.

  Greg Harper kept a secret set of files in his office, Grayson had said. Had he expected the office would remain untouched? A secret set of files—where?

  She looked up at the ceiling. The plaster was smooth, unbroken except for a vent from an air duct. She could clearly see up the silver vent. There’d be nothing there.

  “How long am I supposed to put up with this bullshit? I’m a busy man, Miss Brookes. Not only do I have this damned company to look after, I also have Whitfield Investments.”

  “Whitfield Investments? Is that how you have a connection with Finn Kayne?”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” A new bead of sweat appeared on his brow, which was telling.