“And I may know why,” Ryker said as he returned from his stint at the computer.
“Maybe because he’s lost his sister and his girlfriend and he almost died?” Daria couldn’t quite control her sarcasm. Hearing Peter so down and hurting made her feel worse than she already did.
“Harrington Industries is on the verge of collapse,” Ryker announced.
“You’ve probably picked up another rumor,” she suggested calmly, considering how worried she was over Peter. Her brother hadn’t sounded…stable. But maybe he was overly emotional due to some medications the doctors had given him at the hospital.
“I don’t think these are rumors,” Ryker disagreed. “You know that money you lent Shandra?”
“Yes?”
“She cashed the check and gave the money to Peter.”
“Not my father?”
“The same hour she made the cash withdrawal, Peter made a deposit for exactly the same amount. No wire transfer. The transaction was all cash.”
“What did Peter do with the money?” Logan asked.
“He tried to shore up the company, but even a sizable check is just a drop in the bucket. The company is hemorrhaging.”
Despite Mike’s warnings, Daria still had difficulty believing what Ryker was telling her. Ever since she’d been a little girl, Harrington Industries had been an icon of Wall Street. Solid. Like the Statue of Liberty. Harrington was considered an equal of IBM, General Motors and Microsoft.
“I don’t understand.”
Ryker paced in front of the bench she shared with Logan. “Peter’s in charge of building a gigantic power plant in India.”
“So what?”
“He signed a contract with the Indian government to buy electricity from Harrington Industries at whatever price he wanted to sell it.”
“Sounds like he signed an excellent contract,” Daria commented.
“It looked like it,” Ryker admitted. “There were no competing bids.”
Logan rubbed his forehead. “I heard rumors that Indian officials are claiming government workers were paid off.”
Daria still didn’t understand how her father’s company could have huge financial problems. As long as the world needed oil and electricity, Harrington Industries should be sound. This wasn’t the first time an American company had been accused of bribery overseas, nor would it be the last, especially in countries where nothing got done without a bribe.
“If their tactics aren’t ethical,” Daria said, “there will be repercussions, maybe the stock will sell off a bit, but the deal still seems profitable. So what’s the problem?”
“India just held new elections.” Logan sounded as though he was thinking aloud.
Ryker nodded as if to confirm that his boss was on the right track. “The new government refuses to honor the old contract.”
“Then the losses will be astronomical,” Daria said. “Harrington Industries is capital intensive, and they can’t afford to sink all that money into a power plant and then leave it idle. The land alone cost a fortune, never mind the equipment and the huge port they built for the oil tankers.”
“Apparently the new Indian government wants to use coal, which is cheap and plentiful, not oil,” Ryker added. “People are outraged at what they’re calling American industrial imperialism.”
Her father probably would have been much happier to have been born a hundred years earlier, when he wouldn’t have had to abide by the recent congressional restrictions. However, as far as she knew, Rudolf Harrington didn’t break the law. He might bend it to his advantage, but he’d never done anything illegal.
“But even if Harrington Industries is hurting, what does that have to me with me?” Daria asked. But then she knew and she felt as though she’d stepped into a hornet’s nest of deceit. “Oh, God.”
Ryker stopped pacing, knelt in front of her and took her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She pulled her hand back. After their earlier argument, she didn’t feel entitled to his comfort. “You think my father poisoned my sister and tried to kill my brother and then framed me so he could take over Harrington Bouquet?”
“And don’t forget Fallon’s life insurance policy.”
“Even five million dollars isn’t enough to make a dent in that kind of red ink.”
“Unless he wanted to hide your money in some offshore account and declare bankruptcy.”
Daria shook her head, unconvinced. “That’s not Rudy’s style. He loves a good fight.”
“Shandra might have concocted the scheme.” Ryker was full of nasty possibilities. “Your stepmother’s not too fond of you, and although she loves her son, clearly she puts your father first.”
Like a cat chasing its tail, Daria’s thoughts couldn’t quite catch up with her emotions. She didn’t want to think anyone in her own family could be that coldly calculating. “Just because Harrington Industries is having financial difficulties doesn’t mean someone in my family is a murderer.”
“True. Mike Brannigan is still a suspect.” Ryker looked at Logan. “What we need is to bait a trap.”
Logan’s tone turned thoughtful. “All the players will be at the funeral tomorrow.”
“That’s why I asked you to come.”
Daria looked at Ryker with hope. She needed this to end. She needed answers. Not only did she hate having the possibility of her arrest for murder hanging over her head, she hated having to be suspicious of everyone she knew. The pressure sat on her chest, and she forced several deep breaths.
“You have a plan?” Logan asked Ryker.
Ryker rose to his feet. “More like an idea.”
“I’m listening.” Logan leaned back. Clearly he trusted Ryker’s judgment. They seemed more like partners than boss and employee.
“Suppose we put out the word at the funeral that the police have cleared Daria and are about to arrest another suspect. Detective O’Brien might even be willing to cooperate.”
“Then what?” Daria asked.
Ryker paced. “We watch and we listen.”
“That’s it?” She couldn’t help her reaction.
But Logan nodded his approval. He stood. “I’ll take the men and prepare the site.”
Ten minutes later, Daria sat with a cup of tea at her kitchen table across from Ryker. “What exactly does watch and listen mean?”
“We tap every phone. We bug the grounds so we can hear every conversation. And we watch each move every suspect makes. If we’re lucky, someone may panic or slip up.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then we’ll be here in your apartment for at least another day.”
Chapter Thirteen
Daria spent the night pacing. Sleep was out of the realm of possibility. Between her worries over the next day and her argument with Ryker, she couldn’t rest. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the pain on Ryker’s face when she’d claimed that she didn’t love him.
She’d only been telling him the truth. She stared out her bedroom window at the city below and barely noticed the traffic fighting through the gloomy rain-soaked streets or the people hurrying under umbrellas. Her concentration focused inward. His questions tormented her. Especially the one about their lovemaking. Why had she enjoyed their sexual encounters so much? Why had she allowed him to push her into a possibly compromising position is such a public place?
She had never done anything like that before. And if her previous partners had suggested such antics, she would have refused. But she hadn’t refused Ryker. She found herself caught up in the excitement, enthralled by the thrill.
As the hours of the long night slowly passed, Daria found no answers. She kept hoping Ryker wouldn’t come to her room, and yet, when he didn’t, she kept looking at the closed door in disappointment.
She’d allowed herself to depend on him for support. Now she no longer had that luxury. Even though he would stand at her side at Elizabeth’s funeral, she no longer felt entitled to lean on him or share her grief and pain.
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br /> A cold and gritty rain fell in light showers through the night, and by morning dark clouds blocked the sun and the rain fell like tears from heaven, a perfect match to her black mood.
After dressing in a charcoal-gray skirt and blouse, Daria joined Ryker in the kitchen. She’d expected the rest of the Shey Group to still be here to act as a buffer, but she and Ryker were alone.
He sat at her kitchen table wearing khaki slacks and a short-sleeved black shirt. He’d hung his suit jacket over the back of his chair and seemed unconcerned that Ace had settled in his lap and might leave cat hair behind.
Ace curled into a ball, tucked his head on his paws and purred happily, the traitor. Her cat hadn’t even visited Daria last night, apparently preferring his company to hers.
Ignoring the awkward and simmering tension that existed between them since yesterday, Daria made herself a cup of comforting tea.
She peered down the empty hallway but didn’t see any other members of the team. “Where’s everyone?”
“At the cemetery. It takes time to set up listening devices that will cover every sound from a sneeze to a whisper.”
“When did they leave?” she asked and then, after she saw the knowing look in Ryker’s eyes, wished she could take back the question. It was one thing to believe he hadn’t joined her in order to stay with his friends, but quite another to know that he’d been alone…and that he hadn’t come to her.
“It’s been just us since 2:00 a.m.” His eyes gleamed with speculation. “Didn’t you sleep well?”
“I didn’t sleep at all.”
He raised one arrogant eyebrow, then leaned back in his chair, stroked the cat and challenged her. “Why not?”
It was none of his damn business why not. She wasn’t about to admit that he was a good part of the reason for her sleepless night even if he already suspected it.
She checked her watch. “Shouldn’t we be going?”
He totally ignored her question, asking one of his own instead. “Were you hoping I’d come to you?”
Daria let out an exasperated sigh. “What difference does it make?”
“Do you usually want a man so soon again after you’ve made love?”
She didn’t like his personal questions. Didn’t like how he kept pushing her to examine her own emotions. And she certainly didn’t have to stand there in her kitchen and put up with his silky insinuations that her feelings ran deeper than she wanted to admit. Leaving her tea behind and plucking the car keys from her purse, she strode toward the front door. She could drive herself to Elizabeth’s funeral. In peace.
He could catch a cab or jog through the rain, she didn’t care which, as long as he wasn’t with her.
As if reading her mind, he rose to his feet. “We have to arrive together. To the rest of the world, we’re still…a couple.”
She gnashed her molars so hard she was surprised she didn’t crack a tooth. That he was right just made her angrier.
She slung her bag onto her shoulder. “Then let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”
“You don’t want to talk to me?” he teased.
“That, too.”
“Maybe we should only make love. You enjoyed my company then. I especially liked those tiny noises coming out of the back of your throat—”
She glared at him. “Will you just shut up?”
“And let you give me the silent treatment? I don’t think so.”
She grabbed her umbrella from the stand in the foyer. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are the most aggravating man?”
Ryker locked the front door. “Women usually find me easygoing.”
“They must not know you well.”
“And you do?”
She had no intention of answering any more of his questions, or responding to his provocative comments. She didn’t want to think about him. She was going to a good friend’s funeral and she didn’t want him to…distract her.
She cast a sideways glance at him in the elevator. He never looked innocent. How could he with those knowing eyes? But was he deliberately trying to make her angry so her grief wouldn’t cut as deep?
He knew which buttons to press to irritate her. But was he handling her so smoothly that she almost hadn’t noticed?
She changed the subject back to the investigation. “Am I expected to do anything special?”
“Stay next to me at all times. Speak normally but try to pick up on any unusual behavior.”
“Like what?”
“Inappropriate talk. Anyone who goes out of their way to avoid you or someone who wouldn’t normally say hello who does.”
“The bugs will pick up all the conversations simultaneously?”
“Travis will monitor communications from a van. Jack Donovan will be flying overhead in a chopper if he can get clearance to take off in this rain.”
“And Web and Logan?”
“Web plans to stick close to Brannigan. Logan will circle.”
“Mike might notice.”
“Web’s a pro. Trust me. Mike won’t notice him, and if you do bump into Logan or Web, try not to make eye contact or even nod. I’d prefer you didn’t indicate that you know anyone in the Shey Group.”
“Okay.”
“There’s one more thing.” From his tone, she knew whatever he was about to say was serious. He reached into his pocket and extracted a small gun. “For you.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Look, here’s the safety.” He showed her a tiny switch. “This is locked and now the gun won’t fire. Turn the switch up and all you have to do is point and pull the trigger.”
She stared at the weapon but didn’t take it. “Why would I need a gun with the entire Shey Group around me?”
“You probably won’t need it.” He opened her purse, slipped the gun inside then snapped it shut. “But I feel better knowing you have it.”
They reached the parking garage with the gun weighing down her purse. She didn’t want to think about carrying a weapon. She couldn’t shoot anybody.
She also couldn’t keep back the memories of making love against the concrete pole. And the hood of her car. She must have been insane. Or crazy in love. She’d have to think about it later.
DARIA AND RYKER arrived at the New Jersey cemetery in a little less than an hour. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but Daria still needed her umbrella and opened it as she exited the car. Ryker clasped her elbow and led her to one of the tents where a crowd of mourners milled about and spoke in somber tones.
When Tanya spied Daria and hurried toward her, surprise and gratitude made Daria halt in the soggy grass. Tanya even wore a dress and pumps. Daria had never expected to see her here, and if she’d known she’d planned to attend, Daria would have offered her a ride.
Tanya hugged Daria. “I wanted to be here for you. I know you and Elizabeth were tight.”
“Thanks.” She embraced the girl and held the umbrella over both of them. “How did you get here?”
“Took the subway to the train station and then caught a cab.” Tanya might have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, but she could navigate the city and surrounding areas like a pro.
Daria’s eyes teared at Tanya’s thoughtfulness. Many others here would not be so kind.
“The flowers you sent are awesome. Especially the spray on the casket.”
“The pansy orchids, did they arrive?” Daria asked. The striking blossoms with deep pink buds had been Elizabeth’s favorite.
“Yeah, along with sweetheart roses, calla lilies and the purple freesias. The daffodil wreath is too much. You really outdid yourself.”
“Shh. Most people don’t know that I—”
“And you don’t want them to know because…?” Ryker asked.
“It doesn’t matter.”
She didn’t want people to think she’d paid for the burial and service and had donated the flowers out of guilt. She’d done so out of love. It was the least she could do for her good friend.
Daria
heard whispers and snippets of gossip as the three of them approached the chairs. She hoped the hidden microphones picked up every word. Maybe someone would make a mistake. Once under the tent, she collapsed her umbrella.
Several people turned their backs and walked away. Tanya squeezed her hand and then slipped to the edge of the crowd.
Daria searched for her family. Instead, she bumped into Mike Brannigan. Ryker immediately steadied her, and somehow he ended up between her and Mike. Daria didn’t believe Ryker’s movement was accidental or a coincidence.
Mike wore a tailored dark brown suit and black tie in an expensive-looking silk. His eyes speared her with concern. “You holding up okay?”
She nodded. “Thanks for asking.”
“There’s a rumor going around that Detective O’Brien is about to arrest a suspect.”
“Anyone I know?” She raised her chin and squared her shoulders.
Ryker’s plan to plant a rumor had succeeded. Everybody was wondering who would be arrested.
Knowing the plan and carrying it out was more difficult than she had expected. Especially when she wanted to sit in a chair, lose herself in the fragrance of the flowers and remember good times with her friend.
When she spied Isabelle sitting with Cindy and Sam, her first instinct was to mutter an excuse to leave Brannigan and Ryker and join her employees for the minister’s service. But her stepmother and father approached, halting her forward progress across the indoor-outdoor carpeting.
Her father looked as if he’d aged ten years since the last time she’d seen him. The soured India deal must be straining his company even more than she’d thought.
Dark circles and wrinkles under his eyes attested to too many late-night meetings and a lack of sleep. “Daria.”
“Hi, Dad.” She hugged him for appearance’s sake. In public, he always wanted the family to appear closer than they were in private.
Her stepmother looked overdressed with pounds of gold jewelry weighing her down, but she was immaculate as always. With her hair and makeup professionally done and in a designer black dress, she could have posed for Vogue.
“Shandra.” The two women pretended to kiss one another’s cheeks, but smooched air in order not to mess their makeup. A mannerism Daria hated, but now was not the time to draw more attention to herself by shunning Shandra.
Defending the Heiress Page 17
