Armed With Steele

by Kyra Jacobs

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” He reached for our entrees and served us each a heaping spoonful of baked ziti. “I’d much rather hear what else you learned. And then skip to dessert.”

  His eyes flashed to mine.

  I knew without having to ask that his definition of dessert was completely different than mine. And where all of that would lead: the same kind of heartache I’d worked so hard these past months to forget.

  “Hmm, let’s see. What else did I learn?” I squinted and looked across the room, away from his hungry eyes. “A lot of it was just kinda normal office gossip. You know, this secretary doesn’t like that sales rep. That manager slept with half his ex-employees.”

  “Yawn.”

  “I know, but of course I had to sit there and pretend it was all the most fascinating information I’d ever heard.”

  “Well, she couldn’t have hogged the entire conversation,” he said, swiping a slice of bread from our small loaf. “Didn’t she try to get anything out of you?”

  “Geez Nate, this is Vanessa we’re talking about. She’s high on beauty, low on brains. I really don’t think she’s smart enough to be the mastermind behind this embezzling scheme.” I munched on a forkful of ziti. “The only thing she was interested in talking about besides work was shopping, so when she found out I live near Glenbrook—”

  “You told her where you live?” Nate slammed a fist down onto the table. “Damn it, Jess, didn’t you learn anything I taught you?”

  It felt like he’d set fire to my cheeks. “Give me a little credit, Nate. All I said was that I lived north of downtown, and then made up some bogus distance from the mall to get her to stop asking for specifics.”

  “That’s more than you should have offered.”

  “Well, what the hell was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, I’d rather not talk about it.’ Or, I know, how about, ‘Gee, sorry, I can’t tell you because it’s a secret.’”

  Nate set his fork on his plate and took a deep breath. Then another. “Look, I’m sorry, Okay? I—”

  “You what?”

  Nate looked down at the table, refusing to meet my eyes. “I just don’t want to see…”

  My patience waned. “See what, Nate?”

  “Anyone else get hurt, alright?” he barked, then shoved his chair back from the table and crossed the room. He reached both arms out to support himself as he leaned on the countertop and looked out the kitchen window.

  Brilliant, Jessica. Poor guy’s already told you he had a bad day, and you go and let your temper get the best of you.

  I left my seat and walked over to where he stood. “Something happen on your day off, Nate?” I placed my hand gently on his shoulder.

  His head dropped lower on his shoulders. “An accident. Out on Lake and Hobson,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

  “You were in an accident?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I saw it happen. Pulled over and called 911. The driver…didn’t make it.”

  The pain in his voice nearly broke my heart. I wrapped my arm around his waist.

  He sucked in a ragged breath. “She was younger than us, Jess. A college kid. Texting on her damned phone.”

  Nate slammed both hands down on the counter. The sound echoed through the kitchen. Brutus whimpered from his corner of the room.

  “Texting! And now she’s gone.”

  “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry, Nate.”

  After a moment he straightened up and turned to face me. He said nothing at first, eyes searching mine for the answer to an unasked question, then reached out and pulled me into his chest. Nearly crushed me between the strength of his embrace and weight of his despair. “You have to be more careful.”

  Chapter 22

  Nate left soon after dinner, not bothering to mention dessert again after his outburst. I tried to get him to open up about the accident, but it was no use. He’d pulled himself back together and clammed up tighter than a set of grizzly bear’s teeth on a prize salmon, leaving me to wonder what kinds of scars mark a man in uniform on a daily basis.

  And what the effects of those scars might be.

  His early exit turned out to be a blessing in disguise—it gave me a little extra time to catch up on my real job. Even so, I didn’t finish until 1:04 AM. Brutus had long since given up on me, and was on his makeshift bed—a soft, fluffy bathmat I’d sprung for over the weekend—snoring softly, when I finally crawled into mine.

  Needless to say, I was a walking zombie the next morning. I hit snooze a few more times than normal and ran out of time to make up a pot of coffee. So when Michael asked at 8:30 if I’d like to make a Starbucks run, I nearly kissed the man. My grande chai latte gave me the caffeine boost I needed to stay alert on job number two. Which was even more important today, as Michael had decided to expand my responsibilities this morning.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  Michael sat in the chair across from my desk. Tall mocha in one hand, his Blackberry in the other.

  I took a sip of my drink and savored the burn as it traveled down my throat.

  Ah, caffeine, how I’ve missed you.

  “Really, I wasn’t kidding in the car when I said I was all caught up with the other things you’ve given to me. And trust me, I’d always rather have too much to do than not enough.”

  More work had to eventually mean more network access. And the more access I had, the more undercover research I could do.

  “Very well, then. I’ve held back from showing you this because—” He stopped. Got up, crossed the room to close my office door, then resumed his seat. “I’m sure you’ve probably heard by now, but we discovered a significant amount of money missing last month.”

  I pasted a look of innocence and indifference on my face. “Vanessa mentioned something about that. And…about the woman I replaced.”

  Michael’s handsome face clouded. “Miss Sullivan was the best AA I’d ever had. When I heard that she might have been responsible…” He shook his head.

  I shrugged. “Maybe she wasn’t?”

  He sighed. Leaned back in his seat. “Trust me, if there’s anyone here who wants to believe that, it’s me. But the facts were all there. The time she left the building and then re-entered it. The time the file was opened and then closed. The fact that it was run from her desk, using her credentials. Well, the idea that she’d abused my trust nearly broke my heart.”

  Unable to refute any of it nearly broke mine.

  “I can only imagine.”

  “I suppose that’s neither here nor there now. I’ve been holding off showing you this until…well, until I felt like you were a good fit. And from the work you’ve done this week, Jessica, you have definitely proven yourself in my eyes.”

  I blushed at the compliment. “Thanks, Michael.”

  He set his mocha on my desk and withdrew a pair of collapsible bifocals from his blazer’s interior pocket. “Now, what we’re going to start working on today is billing and payment processing. Have you been exposed to that at your prior jobs?”

  Being a one-woman show at Hartley Designs had definitely prepared me for this. “Yes. But, on a much smaller scale.” Much, much smaller.

  “Excellent. Now, I requested you be given access to our finance system, and that should have taken effect this morning. Go ahead and click the icon for Orange Financial.” He pushed his notepad across my desk. “That’s the username and password you’ll use to get in.”

  Excitement pulsed through my fingers. I keyed in my credentials and hit enter. An hourglass, a flash of color…

  I was in.

  Michael spent the next hour or so explaining each of the program’s modules. I was relieved to discover Maxwell Office Solutions’ financial system was quite similar to the one I used for my own company. Still, I took notes as he spoke, writing as fast as my fingers would allow.

  “I don’t know about you,” Michael said with a wince, “but I could use a short break.”

&
nbsp; Our foo-foo drinks must have hit our bladders about the same time. Relieved, I pushed back from my computer and spun my chair around. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  When I returned from the ladies’ room, Vanessa sat perched in the seat Michael had just vacated. She had a way of magically appearing in my office…and usually when I least expected it. Maybe we really did need to have her wear a bell.

  “Morning, Vanessa.”

  “Morning,” she said with a sigh.

  I settled back into my seat and spun around to face her. She didn’t look her usual, bubbly self this morning. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and sighed again. “Just been a stressful week. Having some computer issues.”

  “Oh?” My mind instantly went back to the conversation I overheard between her and the mystery IT guy earlier in the week. “Is it something I can help you with?”

  “I don’t know,” she pouted. “It’s something to do with the financial software, darn thing. Sometimes it works, sometimes is doesn’t.”

  “Ironically, that’s what Michael and I have been working on all morning.”

  Her eyes shifted to the notepad on my desk and a grin dawned on her porcelain complexion. “So has he given you the Aardvark password yet?”

  I glanced down at the notepad. “Aardv—?”

  “Vanessa!”

  Both our gazes flew to the doorway. Michael stood there, scowling. “I wondered where you were. The front phone has been ringing off the hook for several minutes now! Better check those batteries in your headset.”

  “Oh!” Her hand flew up to the delicate instrument hooked over her right ear. “I-I’m so sorry, Michael. I’ll…I’ll go get a fresh pair of double A’s right now.”

  She scurried out of the room, leaving me to wonder what the hell an Aardvark password was, and why she’d picked now of all times to start asking about Orange Financial.

  * * * *

  “And after he showed me how to process the invoices, Michael walked me back to the gold mine.”

  “The gold mine?”

  Nate threw me a confused look, then shifted his gaze to the oven door. He pulled it open just enough to sneak a peek at the frozen pizza he’d brought over. Neither one of us had had much time to prepare anything after work, and we were both sick of carry-out.

  “Yeah. It’s the main filing room. Where every document that has to do with billing is stored on site…for a minimum of seven years.”

  A devilish grin spread across his face. “And were you able to spend much time exploring this goldmine of information?”

  “Not yet. Michael was there with me the entire time today.” The aroma of oven-baked pizza started to tease my nose—dinner wasn’t long off. I crossed the room to grab plates from the cupboard. “But you’d better damn well believe I’m going to find a way to get back in there tomorrow.”

  Nate chuckled and pulled on an oven mitt. “Damn, I love it when you talk like that.”

  * * * *

  I woke early Friday morning. Had a certain storage room calling my name. Only, I still wasn’t sure how to access it without being seen by Michael’s over-observant secretary—the one who always seemed to pop up when I was in the middle of something.

  By the time I stepped out of the shower, I’d come to a conclusion: it was time to try the stairs again.

  I pulled into Maxwell’s lot thirty-five minutes before the start of my shift and took my usual parking spot in the back row. Then I boogied inside. A quick scan of the lobby found no witnesses of my early arrival. I breathed a sigh of relief, and walked at a quick clip down the side hall.

  Soon I was past the elevator bank. When I reached the stairwell door, I stopped. Surely no one would be taking the stairs this early in the morning, would they?

  I took a deep breath and pushed the door open a few inches. Listened.

  Silence.

  With a second sigh of relief, I stepped inside. Maybe my luck was finally starting to turn around. I climbed the first section of stairs to the landing in between floors, paused to tuck my car keys into my purse, then started on the last flight of stairs.

  The door up ahead opened and I froze in my tracks. Even in the stairwell’s dim lighting I could tell my visitor’s tailor-made suit was pressed to perfection. As he began his descent, I took in his carefully styled hair, steel gray eyes and red power tie.

  It was Milo Finnegan, and Vanessa had described him to a tee.

  I gripped my purse tight and pulled it higher up onto my shoulder. High enough that my fingers touched the pendant hanging from my necklace. This time I would be ready.

  Mr. Finnegan slowed his pace as he reached the landing, then stopped, blocking my path. “Good morning. I…I don’t believe we’ve met.” He extended his right hand. “I’m Milo Finnegan, the Human Resources director.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Finnegan,” I said with a nod. Let go of my purse to extend my hand as well. “You’re right, I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to meet yet. I’m Jessica. Jessica Hartley.”

  A smile, smooth as silk, appeared on his lips and he took my hand in his. “Ah, Michael’s new AA.” He gave me a quick, full, once-over. Then he drew my hand up to those same lips and kissed the back of it. “So glad to have you aboard, Miss Hartley.” Steel gray eyes flashed up to mine under cover of a thick set of dark lashes.

  Was this what Grace had to put up with every time she took the stairs? I resisted the urge to yank my hand away from him. No matter how badly I wanted to scurry away or find some hand sanitizer, stat, I needed to stay and play the role I’d promised to play.

  So instead I batted my eyes and smiled back. “Why, thank you, Mr. Finnegan.”

  His right eyebrow flickered, and his smile grew a fraction. “Please forgive me, I’ve a meeting to attend. But I do so look forward to seeing you around.”

  With that, he kissed my hand once more, released it, and continued on his way. I exhaled a long, shaky breath. No more taking the stairs. Not even if the freaking building caught fire—I’d rather jump than risk this stairwell again.

  When I got my wits about me, I scrambled up the remaining steps to the second floor. My exchange with Milo had eaten up some of my precious minutes, so time was now of the essence. I reached the second floor, slid out the stairwell door, and crept toward the hallway.

  No one in sight. No voices detected. I walked in stealth mode the dozen or so steps to the storage room and ducked inside.

  Row upon row of filing cabinets greeted me, oh glory day. But their cold, steel faces offered no indication as to where I should look first. I wove among them, looking for the cabinet I’d filed my papers in the day before. Grace hadn’t been gone long—if I was filing in there, chances were good that she’d filed there as well.

  Three rows back and two to the right, I found the cabinet. I stood on tiptoe to peek over the top toward the door. The coast was still clear.

  I grasped the drawer handle in my right hand, pushed the metal button beside it in with my thumb to release the locking mechanism, and pulled the drawer open. It squeaked under the strain of its contents. I cringed. Waited. Heard no one coming.

  So I continued to pull the drawer open. Folder labels began to pop into view.

  August. September. October.

  Footsteps entered the storage room. “Any luck?”

  I froze. My eyes lasered to the aisle way, expecting to be caught red-handed. But no one was there.

  “No,” Vanessa grumbled. “I’ve tried everything I can think of. You’re the IT guy, can’t you figure it out?”

  “I told you, I don’t have clearance for that.” There was a certain degree of malice in the mystery man’s tone. “You broke it, you fix it.”

  “You know damn well that wasn’t my fault,” she hissed.

  My arm holding the drawer open started to go numb. If I let go, it would slide shut on its own. But I had to do something, so I switched hands, not thinking such a simple act would make any noise.

&nbs
p; I was wrong.

  The drawer creaked. I held my breath and waited.

  “Did you hear something?”

  Trapped. My heart began to race. If Mr. IT decided to come take a look, they’d know I’d heard everything. And Vanessa would surely ask what I was doing here in the first place. But a new voice interrupted their conversation. A voice from the hallway.

  “A package arrived for you, Miss Smith.”

  “Thank you, Lauren. Just…put it on my desk, will you?”

  “No can do, ma’am. This one has to be signed for.”

  “Fine.” Vanessa’s quick footsteps stormed away from the entrance of the room, followed by a shorter, quieter stride.

  That left one pair of feet unaccounted for: mystery IT guy’s. I held my breath and listened. Was he still there? Had he gone?

  The squeak of a shoe, not yet broken in, echoed off the filing cabinets. And another. And another.

  Sweat formed on my brow. What would I say? What excuse could I use?

  Another squeak, closer yet.

  Vanessa’s harsh whisper suddenly rang out. “Matthew?”

  Matthew? So my stairwell bully was Vanessa’s mystery visitor after all. And he was about to have me cornered once more. Panic flowed freely through my veins at the thought.

  The footsteps resumed, but in the opposite direction and at a more normal pace now. Relief washed over me.

  “Look, I’ll keep trying downstairs. But he’s not happy with me for how it ended last time. Just…try to do some work on your end, alright?”

  They walked off, so after a few seconds I deemed it safe to let the drawer slide shut. It clicked into place, and I listened for any approaching footsteps. But only silence greeted my ears, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  That’d been close. Too close. Next time I’d have to be more careful.

  I glanced down at my watch. 8:01.

  So much for my investigation.

  Chapter 23

  “So, how are things going?”

  I was sitting in the kitchenette across from Lauren once more. Half my morning had been spent on customer callbacks, which sucked, and the other half with Michael learning more about the new financial software, which fried my brain. So while I knew I should be listening for clues, at the moment all I really wanted to do was eat lunch and decompress.