by Kim McMahill
Sofia arrived back in D.C. very late—or early, depending on which day she used for a reference point. She was exhausted, having only gotten four hours of sleep, but she needed to go to the office. She had left her foundation unattended far too much as of late. Thankfully, Justine was dedicated and kept things running smoothly in her absence.
Sitting on her condo balcony, sipping a cup of espresso, she thought back over the last twenty-four hours. Her two-hour flight with Max from Arizona to Texas was miserable. They barely spoke to each other while in the air. When they touched down at a remote private airstrip, they found J.R. waiting as promised. Max and J.R. exchanged a few words, and then the little plane left.
J.R. told her how much he appreciated her sacrifices for the common good, but he never touched her. She was confused, if not a bit disappointed. Losing Aaron had pained her, and she could have used a little consoling human contact.
The mastermind behind Coterie had lured her into the fold and had convinced her she was special. She had tried to keep their interactions professional. Despite her best efforts to avoid it, she feared she had fallen in love with him. Now, she wasn’t sure what she felt. He had to know how much it hurt her to silence Aaron. How could he have any feelings for her while expecting her to give so much of herself?
They had driven for several hours to where J.R.’s private jet waited. They talked about what had happened in Phoenix and what further damage control might be needed. When they reached the airstrip, he gave her a brotherly peck on the check and left, claiming he had business to attend to in Texas. She got on the plane, and he walked away.
The flight home gave her too much time to think, and rest eluded her. When the plane finally landed, a car was waiting to drive her home. She had yet to hear from J.R.
She hoped they could all lay low for a while, at least until the dust settled in Arizona. Even if they had to let a few opportunities pass by that they would otherwise manipulate, it seemed the most prudent action under the circumstances.
Unfortunately, she did have one more situation to monitor in the furtherance of their mission. She wasn’t so sure whose mission it was anymore. Sure, she benefitted financially, but she noticed that she was doing the bulk of the dirty work lately.
Keeping the senator in line used to be easy, and she enjoyed watching him squirm, but their last conversation left her with an uncomfortable feeling. Things were unraveling, and she wasn’t sure what to do to stop it. She had hoped not to play her ace-in-the-hole yet, but his actions might force her hand.
One decision she had reached on the flight from Texas to D.C. was that she had to solidify an exit strategy. She hated to lose the business she had built, but getting caught or getting killed were even worse options. She had already funneled a substantial amount of money into offshore accounts, but she would skim off even more in case she needed to disappear for good and maintain the lifestyle she had come to expect. J.R. had always taken care of new identities and travel documents for her, but she needed to have several sets of documentations he didn’t know about.
Sofia parked her car in the public garage near her building. Memories of the time Aaron tried to mug her flashed through her mind and made her smile. They had been through a lot together since then, and she would miss him. She should have fought harder for him when J.R. insisted Preston needed him in Phoenix. If she hadn’t let him go, he might still be alive.
She shook off the memories and put on her poker face. She couldn’t let on to anyone that she was troubled, or the well-intentioned Justine would want to talk about it. Sofia pasted a smile on her face and rounded the corner. She stopped abruptly.
“Who are you and where is Justine?” she demanded of the man sitting behind Justine’s desk.
“Ms. Wilks, I’m your new assistant, Trevor Montoya,” the young man said as he stood and extended his hand.
“Where is Justine?” Sofia’s body trembled with a mixture of anger and fear.
Trevor lowered his hand and cleared his throat. “She’s moved on, and since I had just finished a project for J.R., he thought it would be a nice solution.”
“How did J.R. know Justine was gone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s talk in my office.” Sofia kept Trevor within her field of vision as he followed her into her office and closed the door. He stood obediently while she set her briefcase on her desk and removed her coat.
She struggled to digest this new information. She doubted Justine just happened to get another job or “moved on” for any other reason, especially since she had just talked to her the day before. She feared that J.R. was losing his trust in her, and Trevor was sent to keep him informed.
“You can gather your things and leave. Tell J.R. thank you for the offer, but I hire my own staff.”
“He won’t be pleased.”
“I don’t really care. This is my company. I built if from the ground up, and I will have no one taking any of its control from me. It’s mine.” She took several deep breaths to regain her composure, fearing she had sounded a little hysterical.
She was proud of what she had built. Buyer’s Choice Foundation had been successful before J.R., but she had gotten greedy, thinking not only of vast amounts of money the alliance could bring in, but of the vindication she could get for her and her mother, not that the woman deserved any.
“I’m sure once I locate Justine, I can convince her to stay. I’ll match whatever salary she was offered if she got another job, or rectify whatever situation made her leave so hastily, and so your services will not be needed.”
“That won’t be possible.”
“What have you done to Justine?” Sofia slowly rounded her desk until she stood just inches in front of the slightly taller man.
“Me? I’ve never met her.”
Sofia was out of patience and desperate to vent her rage on anyone. With speed that caught Trevor off guard, she brought her knee up hard, connecting solidly with his groin. As he doubled over, she rammed an elbow into his back just below his neck. He collapsed onto the plush carpeting on her office floor, gasping for breath. He rolled to his side, curling up into a fetal position. She dug a heel into his side.
“Last time, where is Justine?”
“Paper on your desk, front page,” he moaned through clenched teeth.
Sofia grabbed the newspaper and stared at the headline in disbelief. It took several moments for the headline to sink in.
Woman’s Body Found in Rock Creek Park.
The front-page story stated that identification was pending notification of family, but she had no doubt this woman was Justine. The paper slipped through her hands and fluttered to the floor.
Trevor stood, hunched over, supporting himself on the corner of her desk. She looked up and her eyes met the hatred in Trevor’s glare.
“I don’t care if you are sleeping with J.R., you come at me again, and I will kill you,” he hissed as he turned and limped out of her office.
Sofia let Trevor leave, suddenly drained of all her fight. How could she forgive J.R.? How could she have ever loved him?
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
Nick was surprised to see Devyn sitting at her desk when he arrived at the office at 8:00 a.m. She had beaten him back to Salt Lake by two days, but she was pretty banged up. She was not a morning person, so the smile on her face was even more unsettling than her presence.
“Welcome back.” Devyn beamed.
“What has you smiling at this time of morning? Get a visit from a neighboring sheriff?”
“I wish, but no.”
“Sorry, I didn’t pick you up a good cup of coffee since I didn’t expect to see you for at least another hour.”
“No problem. I swung by your house this morning after you left for the gym to return Morgan’s stuff, and she gave me food and coffee.”
Nick wasn’t sure he liked the fact that Morgan and Devyn apparently planned on being friends. He had spent years tormenting Devyn by hiding his private life,
but he doubted anything would be sacred any longer. But what could he say? Morgan was new in town and would appreciate having a friend, and Devyn didn’t make friends easily, so he wouldn’t feel right about stepping between the two women.
“That’s nice.”
“Seriously? I was sure me hanging around Morgan would rile you up. If that doesn’t, I guess I don’t know what will anymore.”
“Sorry to ruin your fun.”
“I’ll just have to get more creative.”
Nick didn’t like the sound of that. “Man, I wish the sheriff lived closer.”
“Me too, but we’ve got work to do. The IT guys with the Sacramento FBI are working on Dexter Fowler’s computer, and they’ll get everything posted to the Risky Research database as soon as possible. Agent Bob promised to let us know if anything new turns up in their follow-up investigation into Stan Jacobson’s death and GCF. We’ve pulled him officially into the Risky Research investigation. I can’t tell you how excited he was to learn he and I would be working together again.”
“I’ll bet,” Nick replied.
“You and I will dive into trying to find links between Candace and Aaron, and GCF and Coterie. Prior to now, all the companies had been victims, but in this instance, I’d say GCF was in cahoots with Coterie. GCF is currently shut down while the investigation continues, and until Hoyle’s widow decides if she wants to try and save it and keep it running or sell.”
Nick was still a little suspicious. Devyn was way too perky for this early in the morning. He knew her well enough to fear she had some other reason for her behavior. “Did you find anything else interesting?”
“As a matter of fact,” Devyn said as she paused to retrieve something from the bottom drawer of her desk, “I did solve one more mystery that has been bothering me for a very long time.”
“What’s that?”
She stood and held up a bag. “I now know what’s supposed to be in your creepy little gnome’s hand.”
Devyn pulled another gnome from the bag and set it next to the one on Nick’s desk. The hands linked together. “I told Morgan they should be reunited.”
Nick couldn’t hide his smile. He shook his head and chuckled. “Thanks, Devyn. Now, Morgan knows I never had any intention of moving on. We’re going to have to set some ground rules if I’m going to allow you two in the same room together.”
“Allow us? Hold on, let me text that to Morgan and see how she feels about that.”
“Touch one key, and I announce to this entire room that you have the hots for the sheriff.”
“Knock yourself out. Agent Bob figured it out. He tricked me into partial disclosure while I was under the influence of serious pain killers. You know Bob.”
“Yep. I’m sure everyone who’s stopped at the office coffee machine this morning already knows.”
Devyn shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “If it’s for real, I guess I don’t care who knows. If Gage is stringing me along, I’ll kill him.”
“Now that’s the way to woo your man.”
“I gotta do things my way. Speaking of my way, I have a hunch on the Risky Researcher case that I’m sure you’ll want to help me follow up on. I did a little digging into Senator Grant’s voting record, and you’ll never guess what I found…”
Nick laughed and followed Devyn to the elevator, only half listening to her latest theory. Normally, he would have scolded her for even bringing up Senator Grant’s name, but after almost losing Morgan he was more determined than ever to bring Coterie down, no matter whose toes they had to step on.
Please enjoy this sample from A Dose of Danger by Kim McMahill, available from Prism Book Group!
Grace Talbot gripped the steering wheel of her white four-wheel-drive truck. Every muscle in her body tensed as she leaned closer to the windshield, straining her eyes, searching the blowing snow for the reflector poles which lined the road, or for any tire track which would indicate someone else had driven through recently.
Traveling the remote rural Wyoming road in a blizzard was risky, and she would have avoided such a stupid act if her Uncle Moss wasn’t in the hospital fighting for his life and Butch, his only hired ranch hand, wasn’t dead.
When Deputy Carlson had called the previous night and explained what had happened, Grace quickly developed a plan and acted. Her boss, Dr. Stephen Clark, had no hesitation in approving a leave of absence. Without thought to consequences, she’d copied her team’s data onto an external drive, loaded her computer and essential equipment, packed a bag, left Salt Lake City, and headed north before the sun had even risen.
Grace turned the defroster and windshield wipers up as high as they would go, but the rapid motion and blowing heat did nothing to help the visibility or stop the fine snow from instantly freezing on the glass. She rolled the window down and reached a gloved hand out into the frigid air to scrape ice from the windshield. Only twenty miles separated her from the ranch, but driving at a speed only slightly faster, she’d be lucky if she reached her destination before dark.
She fought back the tears as visions of Uncle Moss filled her mind. He was the only true family Grace had left. She loved him and the ranch more than anything else in her life. Except for her job, he and the ranch were her life, and all her happy memories were linked to both. She adored the horses, cattle, chickens, dogs, cats, and especially the pigs, but most of all she cherished the solitude and the feeling of belonging somewhere.
The breathtaking setting of the ranch and the animals had helped her psychological wounds to heal when she was a child, and they had given her the desire to pursue a career in the bioscience field as she focused her energies on animal science and comparative nutrition.
As much as she wanted to drive straight to the hospital in Billings, Montana, to be at her uncle’s side, she had to reach the ranch as soon as possible and tend to the cattle and the rest of the animals, especially Charlotte.
Uncle Moss would understand. If he awoke, he would be comforted knowing she was caring for the livestock and his beloved pets. The thought of her tough, feisty uncle lying helpless and unconscious in a hospital bed was something she had to force out of her mind to focus on the hazardous driving conditions.
She didn’t know the extent of his injuries, since the doctor had gone off duty by the time she had gotten the call the night before, and the nurse was hesitant to offer much information. Not knowing only made her anxiety worse, and it was a challenge to keep her imagination from running rampant with dire scenarios.
Grace had been on the road since before daybreak, already covering hundreds of miles. Over the past four hours, the weather had deteriorated considerably, and her usual unshakable control over her emotions was hanging by a very thin thread. She wanted to be with Moss, mourn Butch, and expel the ominous feelings which kept slithering into her thoughts.
The old ranch hand had worked for her uncle for thirty years, and he was like family to her. Thinking about all the times his calloused hands gently bandaged her scrapes or wiped away her little girl tears brought a smile to her lips. Few would know that this rough and rugged rancher could also be sensitive and tender when dealing with an emotionally scarred child’s fragile feelings. He was tough and hard-working, someone she could count on, and he was most certainly never careless. His passing would leave a huge void in her life, and she would miss him more than anyone could possibly understand.
No matter how hard she struggled to force back the fear and sorrow, concern for her uncle’s life and sadness over Butch’s death allowed tears to pool in her eyes every time she pictured Moss’s weathered face or the rugged ranch hand’s wide smile. Butch was gone, and nothing could change that. Moss was alive, and she had to hang onto the positive. He was strong and stubborn.
The sheriff’s deputy who had called her about the situation hadn’t sounded very encouraging, nor did he give many details about the fire other than it appeared to be an accident and was still under investigation.
Was it really an accident? Gr
ace wondered. Uncle Moss and Butch were always cautious when it came to fire, knowing the nearest response was too far away to save a structure.
“Not now. Not when I’m so close,” Grace pleaded wearily as the truck continued to feel bogged down, and she realized she was losing the battle to keep the windows defrosted enough to see out.
Grace eased the pickup onto the shoulder as far as she dared, not knowing what lay under the blanket of white beyond the reflector poles, but hopefully far enough out of the way if a plow happened by. She used her shoulder to push the door open and stepped out of the vehicle. The snow, reaching well above her knees, was so light it seemed like powdered sugar being sifted down from the heavens.
She hadn’t realized the snow was so deep, which explained why the vehicle seemed sluggish. She was a little surprised the truck had been able to push so much snow as well as it had. Trudging to the front of the vehicle, she cleared out the snow packed between the grill and the radiator the best she could. Worried that all the wedged-in snow might be the reason why she couldn’t keep the cab warm and windows clear, she thought back to something she’d seen her uncle do once in a similar situation.
Grace went back inside the truck and, dumping out one of her boxes of books onto the floor of the club cab pickup, she ripped the seams of the cardboard until she had one large flat piece. Then she emerged again and wedged it in behind the truck’s grill, hoping it would keep the snow out of the engine compartment and bring up the temperature.
She returned to the vehicle’s interior, but before getting back on the road, she poured the last cup of coffee from the thermos into her travel mug. Sipping the strong, tepid brew, Grace rotated her shoulders and neck in an attempt to work out all the kinks.
Grace thought about her uncle’s or Butch’s enemies. Butch had none to her knowledge. Her uncle had only one she knew of, though the feud had never escalated to any retaliation on either side. Even the word “enemies” sounded a little melodramatic. I doubt Old Man Matthews would lift a finger to help Moss because of their ridiculous decades’ long grudge. So much for neighborly love.
