by Dee Davis
“Well, call if you think of anything.” D’Angelo’s face was blank, all emotion effectively masked.
“Of course. And conversely, you’ll let us know what you find out.”
“You can count on it.” D’Angelo stood up, their gazes locking, and John wondered what the detective knew that he didn’t.
Everything—and hopefully nothing.
Taking John’s side had just been part of the cover. Which was all well and good, but that didn’t even come close to explaining why she’d almost kissed him. Without the detectives’ timely intervention, there was no telling what would have happened.
Hopefully better sense would have prevailed. But she wasn’t so certain. She watched as he moved through the last of his exercises. There was a vulnerability about him. And it called to her. Speaking on some deep inner level that she frankly hadn’t even been aware existed.
All of which made her completely insane. Crazy.
Certifiably nuts.
And if she was honest, disappointed. She’d wanted to kiss him. Wanted it with a fervor that had surprised her with its intensity. Fortunately, neither of them had mentioned it again, the detectives’ discussion bringing reality slamming down around them both.
And since they’d left, John had been all business, preoccupied no doubt with the death of his colleague and the implication that he might have known something about it. A heavy burden for anyone to bear, but especially for John, considering the circumstances.
She blew out a breath, pushing her thoughts away. No matter what lay between them, it wouldn’t— couldn’t—come to anything. She was here to do a job, and that’s exactly what she intended to do.
Resolutely, she crossed the room. “I think you’ve had enough for today.” She purposely kept her voice just this side of brusque, determined to maintain control. “It won’t help you to push too hard.” She reached out and took the hand weight from him.
“So everyone keeps telling me.” His tone was argumentative, but he handed her the other weight, and she noticed he was favoring his left arm.
“They’re saying it because it’s the truth. Recovery is a slow process. You’re literally building your body again. Muscle by muscle.”
“I take it you’re not here with magic fairy dust. Or maybe Oscar Goldman. I’d make a hell of a bionic man.” There was wry humor mixed with bitter regret, and she fought against the urge to offer comfort.
That’s not why she was here. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
“Right, I have to earn it.” He attempted a smile, the effort obviously costing him.
“The detectives upset you.”
He studied his hands. “No. Not really. Derek Miller’s death upsets me.”
“I thought you said you weren’t close?” She wondered if there was something he’d kept from the police. Something maybe he’d tell her.
“I wasn’t. But he was a decent man. He’d just had a run of bad luck.”
“Of his own making, to hear people talk about it.”
“He was trying to get clean. Or at least that’s my last memory of him.” He struggled to stand up, holding a hand out to stop her from helping. “The problem with my head is that I can’t trust anything I remember. So many things have shifted. Changed. It’s like I’m seeing everything through a warped window. And no matter how much I want it, I can’t make my head whole again. I can’t make my hand respond on command.” Reflexively he tightened his fingers, trying to make a fist.
She was fairly certain that if anyone could will their body to mend, it would be this man, but she knew that anything she said would be meaningless. Empty promises. And besides, she was supposed to be uncovering his weaknesses, not helping to build his strengths.
Still, she needed to say something, the need to offer comfort almost overwhelming now. “It will get better.”
He watched her through narrowed eyes, the irises almost black. “Maybe not. Maybe it’ll never be better again. Do you know that I can’t even remember the guy who blew my head apart? You’d think that would have made a hell of a memory.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .” She stepped back, a calculated move to allow him space, to let her breathe.
“No, I’m sorry.” He closed the distance between them, his gaze colliding with hers. “I didn’t mean to snap. You can’t imagine how nice it is to have someone to talk to. Someone without a vested interest in my remembering.”
Guilt flooded through her. “But I do have an interest.”
He frowned, eyes still locked on her. “And that would be?”
“It’s my job to make you better, remember?”
He moved closer, his breath hot against her cheek. “But we’re talking physically, not mentally.”
She fought the urge to retreat, and held her ground. “One goes hand in hand with the other, surely.”
His smile was slow, traveling up his face to light his eyes. “If you say so, Ms. Cavanaugh.”
“Katie,” she whispered, forgetting all about keeping her distance.
“Katie,” he repeated, his face only inches from hers. “I’ve got a feeling you’re going to be really good for me.”
With a sharp intake of breath, she stepped back, breaking the spell, reality returning with a vengeance.
He had no idea how wrong he was.
“So are you in or out, Frank?” Valerie sat on the edge of his desk, the hem of her skirt rising up, showing more thigh than he’d a right to be looking at.
He swallowed, forcing his eyes to her face. “I don’t know, Val. I feel like I should stand with Jonathan.”
“Even if he brings down Guardian?” She shifted, the skirt inching a tad higher. “Surely you don’t want that to happen.”
“Of course not.” Almost against his will, his eyes dropped back to her satiny skin. “But aren’t you assuming a lot in thinking he’ll just lay down at your feet and resign?”
“I’m not assuming anything, Frank. I know that Jonathan won’t go down without a fight, but maybe with Miller dead, he’ll rethink things. He’s not a fool. He’s got to know that Miller’s murder will impact our business.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Frank tried to concentrate on the conversation, but it was hard. Valerie’s perfume was tantalizing and he felt as if he were drowning in the scent. “Jason seems to think he can contain the damage.”
“Jason doesn’t know anything. He’s not as astute as you are.” She licked her lips provocatively, sexuality practically oozing out of her. “Which is why I need you on my side.”
Despite the fact that he was married, Frank found her hard to resist. Not only did she have an amazing body, she had a mind to match, and the fact that she was coming on to him gave him a heady sense of power.
And having spent the bulk of his adult life following other people’s dictates, power wasn’t something he was intimately acquainted with. Of course, siding with Valerie was not exactly a bid for freedom, but at least with her there was an opportunity for something more than what he had now. If he helped her obtain the presidency of Guardian, there’d certainly be a payoff for him. A payoff that would go a long way toward making Jessica realize his worth.
Making his wife happy, and spending more time with Valerie. There was a certain appeal. Still, John was a good friend, and the idea of hurting him didn’t sit well at all.
“You’re not listening.” Anger darkened the smooth lines of her face, the emotion only making her appear more sensual.
He pulled himself from his thoughts, and forced a smile. “Of course I am. You were talking about taking over the company.”
“Exactly.” Her smile was slow, the gesture contrived, but it heated his blood nevertheless. “And we can use Miller’s death to do it.”
Frank swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t see how. It’s not like Miller was a big player in the grand scheme of things. How is his death a threat to the company?”
“You never see the big picture,
Frank. In and of itself maybe his death isn’t a problem. But with the right spin, it’s possible that it could mean trouble.”
He eyed her speculatively. “And you’re going to help with the spin.”
She shrugged, a tiny smile playing at her lips. “If I have to.”
Frank studied her, considering his options. Valerie Alejo had a way of getting what she wanted. And with Jonathan playing at less than full capacity, he figured now was the time for her to make a move.
The question was whether he wanted to join the team.
Chapter 5
“You were conveniently missing in action today.” John looked up as his brother walked into the study.
“Someone has to keep the company running.” Danny’s voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of something more.
John leaned back in his chair, every muscle in his body aching. He had no idea if it was the morning’s workout, or the afternoon at his desk, but either way he felt as though he’d been run over by a very long freight train. “Well, you missed all the excitement.”
“I heard the police were here, nosing around about Derek.” Danny crossed to a closed cupboard and opened it to reveal a little refrigerator. He opened it and pulled out a beer. “Want one?”
John shook his head. “Alcohol isn’t exactly on my approved food list these days.”
“Sorry.” Danny didn’t look anything of the sort. But then, that was Danny. Anything that didn’t directly affect him tended to sail right over his head. It was part of his charm. And the bane of John’s existence. He contained a smile, watching as his brother dropped down into a chair with an exaggerated sigh.
“So who were you meeting with?” John reached for the little statue he’d made in occupational therapy. It wasn’t much to look at. A blob of clay that was supposed to resemble a bird. But despite its less than aesthetic appearance, he’d found that rubbing the smooth surface helped relieve some of his stress.
“Traylor from First Federal. They’ve just upgraded their software and are angling for some free modifications from us.”
John’s fingers tightened around the statue as he struggled to remember Traylor. “The terms in the contract are clear.”
“I told him that. But he says you’d mentioned the updates.” Danny sipped his beer, waiting.
John released the statue, afraid he might break it, his stomach clenching. Why the hell couldn’t he just remember? “I might have said something, I honestly don’t know. But even if I did, I wouldn’t have overstepped the boundaries laid out in the agreement.”
“I know that.” Despite his words, there was doubt in Danny’s voice. “And that’s what I told him. But this kind of thing can’t continue. Guardian can’t operate like this, and you know it.”
“Everything is going to be fine.” A muscle in John’s jaw started to pulse as anger surged through him.
It wasn’t Danny’s fault. He was absolutely right. Maybe that’s what hurt the most. All John’s life he’d been the reliable one. Danny had been the one who’d floated through on charm and good looks. And to see Danny taking over for him, behaving like him, it was like watching a movie with the lead actor miscast.
“It’s not fine. Look at you.” Danny tipped his head toward John’s right arm, lax on the desk. “This isn’t working.”
“I’ve only been back a day. For God’s sake, give me a chance. So I don’t remember one conversation. I’d wager there’s a lot of conversations you’ve forgotten. Particularly when you’re drinking.” He glanced pointedly at the beer bottle.
“This isn’t about me. And I’m not the enemy. I’m your brother, Jonathan. And I’m just trying to look out for you.”
John leaned back, his anger deflating. “I know that. And I’m doing better. Honestly. I just need a little time. And until I’m at a hundred percent, I’ll just have to count on you to fill in the blanks.” Literally.
“All right. I’ll cover your back. But I want you to promise you’ll quit if it gets to be too much.” He put the beer on the table, his eyes darkening with worry. “Deal?”
“Deal. I told you, I have no intention of doing anything that could harm Guardian. We just have to work a little harder to get things back on track. Together we can accomplish anything.”
“The Brighton brothers ride again.” Danny grinned and raised his bottle, lightening the moment. “So tell me about Kathleen Cavanaugh.”
“She’s nice.” Now, there was an understatement.
“Nice?” Danny’s brows rose in amazement. “I’d say she’s a lot more than nice. Hot is actually the word that comes to mind. Sizzling, actually.”
“Come on, Danny, she’s my physical therapist.” The truth was, he wasn’t ready to share his thoughts about Katie with his brother. Not yet. Hell, maybe never.
“So touching is allowed.” Danny’s smile turned positively lascivious, and John had to resist the urge to wipe it off his face.
“No, it’s not.” He frowned at his brother, his emotions running rampant. He might not be certain about his feelings for Katie, but he was positive sharing wasn’t on the list. “And that goes for you, too.”
Danny held his hands up in mock defense. “Hey, bro, I’ve never been the poaching type. I can get my own women. I don’t need to steal yours.”
“She’s not mine.” His frown changed to a glare. “Come on, I’ve only known the woman for a day.” And almost kissed her twice, but Danny had no way of knowing that.
“So maybe you should do something about it.” Danny’s grin widened. “In the old days, you’d have had her in bed by now.”
John stared at his hands, the left one clenched tightly. “This isn’t the old days, Danny, and it never will be again. Some bastard with a gun made damn sure of it.”
“Oh God, Jonathan.” Danny rose from the chair, reaching out beseechingly. “I didn’t mean that. Not the way it sounded anyway. I was just yanking your chain.”
John pointedly ignored his brother’s obvious discomfort. He hated himself for it, but couldn’t seem to force any other reaction. He wanted to be whole again. To be able to laugh and joke with his brother. To bed a woman he wanted, just because he desired her.
But he couldn’t—he just couldn’t.
His life was changed forever, the bullet’s path crippling his body and his mind. The sooner he accepted the fact, the sooner he could get on with his life.
Such that it was.
“So how long you want to do this?” Tony Haskins closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Unlike you, I have a wife to go home to.”
Eric suppressed a smile. It was a long-standing argument and there were times when he truly envied his partner’s happiness. Bess was a hell of a lady, the perfect match for Tony. But Eric had been the marriage route and learned the hard way it wasn’t for everyone.
Especially not a cop. His kind of cop.
“So go already. I can handle this on my own.” He waved at the stacks of paper littering their desks.
Tony sighed. “Nah. I’ll stay. No sense letting you have all the fun.” He picked up another folder. “So what are we looking for?”
“I don’t know for sure. Something out of place.” He riffled the edge of a file. “Something that links one of these people to Miller.”
“They worked with him, Eric. They all have a connection.”
D’Angelo ran his hand through his hair. “I know that. But maybe there’s something more. I just don’t see this as a drug thing. It doesn’t play right.”
Tony nodded, opening the file. “I agree with that. And the atmosphere at Guardian is definitely tense. Of course, that could be because their chief has been missing in action.”
“Maybe.” Eric leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on his desk, a pile of bank records in his lap. “Time will tell.”
“And in the meantime, we dig.”
“That’s what they pay us for.” He scanned a sheet and tossed it aside.
“Shit, I thought they were p
aying us to chase the bad guys.”
“They are. We’re just doing it one page at a time.” He laughed, and turned to the next record, scanning the contents, his eyes coming to an abrupt halt about halfway down the page. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Tony looked up, his interest piqued.
“Looks like Derek Miller had an influx of good luck, to the tune of about thirty-five thousand dollars.”
“Does it say from where?” Tony’s eyes narrowed as he considered the possibilities.
“No. It just says ‘deposit.’” He flipped through the rest of the statement, frustrated. “Is there a checkbook?” He motioned toward the boxes of Miller’s papers they’d taken from his house.
“Not that I’ve seen, but there’s a lot of crap here. Anyway, the bank should have a record.”
“Yeah, we can give them a call tomorrow. Based on what I’ve seen so far, this would have pumped up Miller’s bank account significantly.”
“And whoever paid him just might have had something to do with his death.”
“It’s a start.” Eric shrugged. “We’ll know more tomorrow.” He glanced over at the boxes. “In the meantime, what’d you say we call in for pizza? I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
John stood in the doorway looking at what had been Derek Miller’s office. The blinds were drawn and the only light came from a small lamp on the desk. It spilled innocently over the scattered papers and pictures, ballpoint pens and paper clips.
Things Derek Miller would never use again.
John stepped into the room, trying to remember what he knew about Miller’s family. Nothing really. A mother in the panhandle somewhere. Lubbock maybe. Derek still had the telltale West Texas drawl. He shivered, mentally correcting himself. He’d had a drawl.
Despite Derek’s talent with computers, John had thought long and hard about bringing him into the company. Especially as a partner. But even with his continued battle with drugs, Derek had been a hell of an asset over the years.
Until now.
John tipped back his head, realizing suddenly just how tired he was. Maybe he should have waited until tomorrow to go through Miller’s things, but there was always the possibility that the police would subpoena his effects, and so this might be his only chance.
