Bared by the Billionaire

by Kallista Dane

  Now the charming son of a bitch had packed up and left. Since yesterday, his cell phone was no longer in service and the number she’d been given for emergency contact turned out to be bogus. She’d driven out to Fisher Island right after work tonight, used the pass code he’d given her to get inside the electronic gate to his waterfront mansion. All the rented furniture was still there, but his enormous wardrobe of clothes, his flashy jewelry, even his guitar collection was gone. And so was the money. This morning she’d discovered the company’s trust account was empty.

  What was worse, Alejandro had used her password to make all the transfers. The poorly disguised paper trail she found today included a sizeable deposit to an offshore bank account under the maiden name of her dead mother. He did a great job of making it look as though she’d been in collusion with him all along and had been paid handsomely for her services. Any good forensic accountant would be able to follow the money as easily as she did and come to the conclusion that she was guilty of fraud and embezzlement to the tune of millions.

  Back home, with his powerful family connections, Alejandro was safe. And Kyra was sure that by now the rest of the money had disappeared for good, routed through a dozen different countries into banks that had the reputation for welcoming hefty deposits from questionable sources, then misplacing all record of where they’d originated.

  But she didn’t have the luxury of influential friends and family members who would grease the palms of government officials to make certain they looked elsewhere. Kyra feared that by tomorrow morning, or certainly within a few days at the most, the feds would be knocking on her door.

  She felt sick to her stomach. It wasn’t just the money. Alejandro had wined and dined her, professed his love, taken her to his bed. Now that she knew what he’d been up to, she had to admit he hadn’t been all that great as a lover. Selfish, really. Almost detached. She kept telling herself it would get better between them, that lovemaking took practice, like anything else. But now she understood. He never cared about her at all. He was just using her. It was hard to believe she’d allowed herself to be duped for so long.

  I was the perfect fall guy. She tore the incriminating papers in her hand to shreds, letting them slip from her fingers and fall through the railing. Thirty-something, no boyfriend, no life except for my mind-numbing, number-crunching job. I’m sure he saw me as needy, grateful for his attention, willing to do whatever he asked of me to make him happy. I’m sure he considered me lucky to have a man like him in my life. That’s why he hired me. And that’s why I felt empty when he fucked me.

  Kyra angrily brushed aside a tear, then leaned over the rail, watching as the proof of her betrayal disappeared into the darkness, along with her dreams for the future.

  * * *

  After a sleepless night, she decided to dress and head for the office, just because she didn’t know what else to do. At least there, she’d have the comfort of her daily routine to occupy her mind—reviewing bills and accounts receivable, going over monthly tax returns and credit card statements.

  Despite the crushing humidity of an August day in South Florida, she chose her favorite black suit, the one with the hip-length jacket and short straight skirt that showed off her legs. Alejandro always said her legs were her best feature. Kyra buttoned up a white silk blouse and then studied herself critically in the full-length mirror in her bathroom, trying to decide if he’d been lying about that too. It hardly mattered now. If some miracle didn’t save her, she’d be covering those legs with an orange jumpsuit for the next—how many would it be—five years? Ten? She had no idea. That, more than anything, terrified her. Kyra hated not having all the facts. But even more, she hated not being in control.

  She swept her long dark hair into a casual knot at the back of her head to keep it from turning into a damp riot of curls in the heat of the day. Shoving the thought of prison garb out of her mind, she grabbed her red leather tote and headed out the door without so much as a glance at the warm tropical ocean outside her windows. She’d bought this corner unit in the high-rise condo complex two years ago in the midst of the real estate crash for a fraction of its original cost, convinced that it was a good long-term investment. Her realtor had gone on and on about the killer views, but Kyra had only used the balcony a handful of times before last night. She rarely allowed herself the luxury of sitting around aimlessly enjoying the spectacle laid out before her when there was something more productive to do.

  Once at the office, Kyra sat at her desk, her tiny cup of Cuban coffee growing cold in front of her, as numbers flew through her head. The corporate checking account had only a few thousand left in it, not nearly enough to make payroll on Friday for thirty employees. She suddenly realized how many other lives were going to be affected by Alejandro’s betrayal, people he always claimed meant as much to him as family. Thank heaven the real estate market was on an upturn. She’d probably need every penny of the increase in value on her condo to pay for the high-priced lawyers she’d soon have to hire.

  The realization galvanized her into action. She was busy scrolling through a list of law firms on line when Alejandro’s secretary buzzed.

  “There’s… uh… some people here to see you.” Tami’s voice sounded hesitant. “They wanted to speak with Alejandro, but when I told them he’s away, they asked for you.”

  Kyra steeled herself. “Send them to my office,” she replied.

  At the firm knock on her door, she took a deep breath, pushed her laptop aside, and arranged her face into a polite smile. “Come in.”

  Three burly figures dressed in identical navy suits, white shirts, and cheap, nondescript ties marched through the door. Her spacious office suddenly seemed cramped, the air too thin to breathe.

  “Are you Kyra Thornton?”

  She forced herself to stay calm. “Yes, I am. And you are…?”

  “I’m Special Agent in Charge D. L. Patterson and these are Agents Gutierrez and Navarro. We’re with the FBI.”

  He pulled his jacket aside to reveal a badge on his hip. Kyra took a moment to size them up. Patterson was tall and blond and broad-shouldered, quite handsome really, easily six foot two. His co-workers, both with dark hair and eyes, nearly matched him in size. They would tower over most men in Miami with similar Hispanic surnames. She found herself idly speculating about whether there was a height requirement for being a member of the FBI’s intimidation squad. Pushing aside the rising tide of panic that was causing her thoughts to wander aimlessly, she dragged her attention back to the moment.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  Patterson’s voice was hard. “Tell us where Alejandro is—and what the two of you did with the money.”

  She frowned slightly and wrinkled her brow, hoping her amateur attempt at looking innocent but puzzled would pass muster. “Please, gentlemen, take a seat,” she said, waving to a pair of upholstered chairs arranged in front of her mahogany desk. “We can bring in another chair so you’re all comfortable. I’ll assist you any way I can. Mr. Cabrera is currently out of the country, visiting relatives. And as for your other question, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Patterson and the others remained standing. Probably part of their intimidation training, one part of her mind was saying. Shut up so I can concentrate, she told herself harshly.

  Patterson apparently misinterpreted the look on her face. “It won’t do you any good to act tough.”

  Act tough? He had to be kidding. She was so terrified, she reached out and cradled the tiny coffee cup in both hands just to keep him from seeing how badly they were shaking. He came closer to the desk and Kyra suddenly wished she’d stood up to greet them. Now his height gave him a distinct advantage. He’s really quite good at the intimidation thing. The inane voice in her head was babbling on.

  Patterson leaned over her, placing his palms flat on the desk. “I suggest you tell us what we want to know right now,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “Or, if you prefer,
we can go back to headquarters and you can answer questions there.”

  Kyra decided that they must not know everything yet. Otherwise they wouldn’t be asking her to answer questions here in the office. They’d have already hauled her off in handcuffs. She decided to stall, even if it only bought her enough time to wedge a mean-ass shark of an attorney between her and these three.

  “As I said before, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I’m not sure you can require me to accompany you to your headquarters unless you’re placing me under arrest. Give me a moment and I’ll get my attorney on the line and ask him.” She reached for the phone, hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff, since she had no idea whose number to dial.

  Patterson smiled, a cold smile that never reached his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said. “Once you have an attorney involved, we can’t offer you the same type of deal we can when it’s just between us.” He waved to his two companions, standing silently behind him, then went on, more softly. “We don’t really want you, Miss Thornton. We want your ex-boyfriend. But we have to have someone to hold accountable. And if that ends up being you, well, we’ll just have to settle for hauling your pretty little ass off to jail.”

  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. What ex-boyfriend?”

  Patterson put an obviously phony look of concern on his face. “Maybe you haven’t heard? Alejandro Cabrera married his longtime sweetheart Marisol De Leon over the weekend in Medellin. I’m told it was a lavish affair. Over three hundred guests. The happy couple is honeymooning at an undisclosed location, according to the society pages in last Sunday’s paper there.”

  Kyra shook her head. Impossible. She would have known. Somehow. She wasn’t that stupid, that gullible. This FBI guy was lying, trying to rattle her just like they did on TV. She reached for the phone again and Patterson snapped his fingers. One of the other men, she didn’t know which was which, handed him an envelope. He opened it and dumped the contents on her desk. Photos. Taken with a long-range lens. There was Alejandro, in a white tux, arms around a stunning blonde wearing a wedding dress that must have cost thousands. There were other pictures. Cutting a four-foot-tall cake, mingling with guests in formal attire.

  She forced herself to stay calm. “Nice try. I may have my head buried in corporate ledgers but even I’ve heard of Photoshop. I’ve been working with Alejandro for over a year and he never mentioned a fiancée.”

  Patterson’s voice was pitched low. “Yes, we’re aware of just how closely you worked. But I wouldn’t expect him to discuss his wedding plans in Colombia with the woman he was setting up to take the fall here in Miami. Tell me, was the fucking you got worth the fucking you’re gonna get?”

  Kyra’s eyes flashed with anger. “How dare you? Get out of my office right now!”

  “Okay. We’ll play it your way. See you soon.”

  Patterson sauntered out of the office without a backward glance, followed by the other two who still had never said a word. He left the photos scattered around on her desk.

  Kyra closed her eyes and willed herself not to throw up all over them. The situation she was in was her own damn fault. She’d turned a blind eye to that feeling in her gut, the one that left her uneasy at times. She and Alejandro had shared some great times. He had taken her salsa dancing in the hot Miami clubs, they’d spent an occasional weekend on his boat, cruising the Intracoastal down to the Keys, and he’d been generous to a fault and seemed disappointed when she’d turned down his offer to pay off her condo.

  Thinking back now, she had to admit he’d never really confided in her. He was often evasive when she asked questions, but she’d chalked that up to a typical male’s reluctance to share his feelings. She’d been too wrapped up in her own issues to give it much concern, grieving the loss of her parents who died not long after she and Alejandro became involved. They were celebrating their thirty-fifth anniversary with dinner at a South Beach restaurant. On their way home, a drunken businessman who just closed a huge deal with a major corporate client slammed into their little Mazda. He was driving a big Yukon and walked away without a scratch. Even worse, he’d had the money to hire a crack legal defense team and they’d managed to convince the jury that her father had somehow been at fault.

  Alejandro had been there for her through it all, supportive, giving her a shoulder to cry on when she was hit by a wave of grief. Even so, she hadn’t expected a happily-ever-after with him. He was too interested in having a good time, not serious enough about his career or his future for her to consider him as a lifetime partner. But she never expected to be set up to take the blame for his massive fraud, ripping off influential clients to the tune of millions.

  Kyra steeled herself, put all the useless reminiscing out of her head, and got back to business. She asked her secretary to hold all calls and began contacting law firms. Everyone seemed to be out to lunch already, or at a meeting. Legal assistants listened gravely to the few details she felt comfortable sharing and promised that she’d get a call back ASAP.

  She was staring out the window, her mind thankfully blank for a moment, when she heard a soft knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, the door opened and Agent Patterson—or rather Special Agent in Charge Patterson, she reminded herself—peeked in at her.

  His smile was warm, disarming. “Forgive me for intruding,” he said. “I’m all alone this time. May I speak with you privately for a few moments? It’s quite important.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, coming to the desk and drawing up a chair.

  “Miss Thornton… may I call you Kyra?” Once again, he continued, taking her silence for assent. “Kyra, I want to formally apologize for my behavior earlier. You’re an intelligent woman. I’m sure you understand that there’s a certain format we’re required to follow when we are investigating a crime. That’s why the bureau has several people at each interview—to make sure rules are followed. But we’re alone now and I’d like to speak frankly with you.

  “I’ve looked over this case,” he went on, “and just between you and me, I’m convinced that you’re an innocent victim here. A woman as attractive as yourself, with the brains to run the finances of a large international company and no record of any previous wrongdoing—well, let’s just say you don’t fit the profile of our usual criminal.”

  Kyra just stared at him. Was this another one of his tactics? The good cop, bad cop act, with him playing both roles? He was really quite attractive when he smiled. If she wasn’t so terrified about her immediate future, Patterson was the type of man she might have fantasized about when she was all alone later tonight.

  As though sensing her distrust, Patterson leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and opened his arms expansively. “I’m not here to trick you into anything. I’m here to offer you my help. What I said earlier was the truth. We don’t want you. We want the person or persons who masterminded this theft. A lot of influential people invested in this corporation and they’re looking for someone’s head on a platter—along with their money. But personally, I don’t think Alejandro Cabrera had the brains to pull off a heist on this scale.”

  Kyra nodded her head gravely, not trusting her voice to not quaver. Inside, she agreed with him. Alejandro was intelligent, but his was more of an innate cunning. She’d been shocked yesterday when she discovered the complexity of his theft. He moved the money around so quickly, then made it disappear, leaving no trace except for the one leading to her involvement. In all their time together, he never struck her as being that competent on a computer.

  Patterson went on, lowering his voice. “Kyra, let’s work together. I think I can get my bosses to hold off on any formal charges against you if you’ll agree to assist us in our investigation. If we nab the person at the bottom of this, I guarantee you’ll never be charged with any crime.”

  “Assist you?” This man was throwing her a lifeline. But she’d learned if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. “How exactly wou
ld I be assisting you?”

  Patterson leaned forward. “Have you heard of Jake Harmon?”

  “The billionaire tech guy? Who hasn’t?”

  “As you know, Harmon invested several million in International Technology Consultants. He got a few of his buddies to dump big money into this company as well. And once the word was discreetly leaked that Jake Harmon was buying into a company that was poised to take over the tech business in the growing South American market, investors jumped on board.”

  Kyra nodded. All it took was one big name to start a river of money flowing in Miami. And Alejandro achieved that when he got Jake Harmon to endorse him. Kyra had been introduced to Harmon once, at a formal event Alejandro hosted last spring at Vizcaya, the Coral Gables bay front mansion-turned-museum. Always looking to impress people, Alejandro had rented the palatial house and grounds for an evening, inviting a handful of local celebrities along with some of his biggest investors and plenty of potential new ones. Harmon made a rare public appearance, shook a few hands, posed for photo ops with Alejandro—doing just enough to give Alejandro the leverage he needed to attract more money to his start-up. Seeing him in person, she remembered thinking Harmon was much too handsome to fit the image of the geeky tech genius described in all the articles she’d read about him.

  “I think Harmon is behind all of this,” Patterson was saying. “He’s lost a couple million, but to him that’s like losing a handful of pocket change in the couch. He can claim he’s a victim of fraud, like all the others. But behind the scenes, I believe he’s the one who’s been pulling the strings. He has the know-how to make all that money disappear into thin air. He’ll give Alejandro his cut and walk away with the lion’s share of the money.”

  “Why would someone as rich as Jake Harmon need to steal from his friends?”