Fire Storm (The Gathering Storm Book 2)

by Marlow Kelly

  The penthouse suite was situated on the fifth floor at the end of a short corridor that resembled the interior of a castle with red brick walls and lamps that looked like medieval torches.

  “I have a weird, itchy feeling that’s telling me there’s going to be a whole shitload of trouble coming down the line,” Kennedy said as they stood outside Ackerman’s hotel room.

  “Do you want to wait in the car?”

  “No, but watch what you say. If Ackerman is part of the Syndicate, then he has a man in the FBI who can access evidence. We need to tread carefully.”

  Finn nodded. She was right. He couldn’t charge in. He had to remain professional and not let his personal connection to the case make him tip his hand. “I’m going to ask Ackerman about Third Estate Mining interests in Montana and see what he says.”

  “Okay. Keep your questions general. We’ll gauge his responses and go from there, and do not ask him about Portman.”

  “Lucy or Marshall?”

  “Neither of them. If they are connected, we cannot let them know our suspicions, and you cannot run with your control-the-world theory.”

  “Actually, it’s my control-the-money theory, but fair enough.” Finn knocked and stepped back, his hand on his weapon. It wasn’t that he expected trouble, but he liked to be prepared.

  Lance Ackerman answered the door himself, which was a surprise. “What do you want?”

  Finn expected a man of his means to have a servant and bodyguard in tow. He flashed his credentials. “I’m Special Agent Callaghan and this is Special Agent Morris. We’d like to talk to you about your interest in Molly’s Mountain.”

  “What took you so long? I’ve been expecting you since North’s death.” Ackerman shuffled to a large dining area near the full-sized kitchen. The hotel room was larger than Finn’s apartment. There was a living room with three overstuffed leather couches. A large screen TV hung over a brick fireplace. From his vantage point near the door, Finn could see two other rooms, one on either side of the living room. The one on the left held a study with another couch.

  Ackerman sat at the table, a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him. His large stomach didn’t allow him to get close. He pointed to the chairs at the table. “Take a seat. I have diabetes so I have to eat.”

  Finn sat opposite Ackerman. Kennedy stood behind Finn.

  “What can I do for you?” Ackerman bit into a piece of toast and proceeded to chew without closing his mouth.

  Finn instinctively looked away, not wanting to see the mouthful of partially digested food. Then he caught the glint in Ackerman’s gaze. The billionaire was playing with him, purposely being as disgusting as possible so that Finn would turn away. It could be a tactic to prevent him from gauging Ackerman’s body language and facial expressions. He forced himself to stare at the obese man.

  Kennedy cleared her throat and moved to stand next to Finn. She retrieved her notepad from her pocket. “Mr. Ackerman, we were wondering if you could give us some advice.”

  “About what?” He took another bite. Crumbs fell over his distended belly.

  “Mining.” Kennedy fixed her shrewd gaze on Ackerman.

  Ackerman stopped eating and pushed his plate away. “What about it?”

  “We understand that as the Eminent Domain law stands, land can be taken for economic enterprise.”

  “It’s not an ideal way to do business, but there are times when you have to pull out the big guns. Normally, in these circumstances, both parties reach an agreement out of court. One that, I believe, is mutually beneficial.” He rested his arms on his bloated stomach and spread both hands wide with fingertips touching. It was a sign of supreme confidence.

  “But that didn’t happen with Ben North,” Kennedy pointed out.

  “No, it’s a pity.” Ackerman flipped one hand palm up, an indication of openness. “But I can see where he’s coming from.”

  “You can?” Kennedy’s brow crinkled.

  “Sure. All he had was that mountain. He had no family, no wife, and nothing to do except sit on that mountainside and watch the sun go down on his life.”

  “So what happens now that Ben’s dead?” Kennedy continued, turning the subject so they could get the information they really needed.

  Ackerman stretched back in his chair, his hands holding his braces, thumbs up, another action that relayed self-assurance and status. Ackerman thought he was better than them. No surprise there. “Nothing. Ironically, Ben’s death has called a halt to the proceedings.”

  “So North’s death has stopped you acquiring Molly’s Mountain?” Finn needed confirmation on this point.

  “Potentially. It’s definitely delayed the project. Ben’s estate has to go through probate that’ll probably take a year, if not longer, depending on whether he left a will or not. If he didn’t, it could take years.”

  “So you haven’t benefited from recent events?” Kennedy repeated the statement as a question, forcing Ackerman to clarify his position.

  “No, it’s put us in a legal limbo.”

  Kennedy scribbled a note in her pad. “Thank you for your time.”

  Finn stood. “Just one last question. How did you know there was coltan on that site?”

  Ackerman froze in his seat. Slowly one hand rubbed the back of his neck, signaling discomfort. “Paul Harris, the mayor of Hopefalls, approached me. He owned the mineral rights.”

  “And you purchased them from him.”

  Ackerman nodded. “That’s right. He’d done all the research. He used to be a landman—”

  “Landman?” Kennedy’s features were blank, revealing nothing. This was the same information they’d received from Ramirez, but it would be interesting to hear Ackerman’s version.

  “They investigate mineral right ownership. You know, go through the county records and that sort of thing.” Ackerman stopped rubbing his neck and went completely still. “Harris led me to understand this was all kosher.”

  Finn smiled, reassuring him. “I’m sure it is. We just needed to understand how Ben came to be in this situation.

  Kennedy was silent all the way to the SUV. As soon as they were inside the car, she said, “Shit, he was a good liar.”

  “When did he lie?” Finn asked, wondering if she’d picked up on the same tells.

  “The mayor. Ackerman rubbed the back of his neck when he mentioned Paul Harris.”

  “I agree. And he stiffened again at the end when he said it was all kosher.”

  She propped her elbow against the door, resting her cheek against her fist. “That statement was intended to give us Harris as a suspect and take the spotlight off Ackerman. Plus, he didn’t move at all when he said it.”

  “Agreed, it was a dead giveaway.” Most people gesture less when they were lying. Ackerman had been a statue.

  “So what now?” Kennedy asked.

  “Legally, I don’t think there’s much we can do. All roads lead back to Paul Harris.” He was almost certain Ackerman had engineered the situation so Harris would be blamed. He decided not to share his opinion with Kennedy. She was already irritated with him over this case. Voicing his conjecture would only add to her frustration.

  Her eyes narrowed as she slanted her gaze toward him. “You think Harris was set up and is going to take the fall?”

  Once again, her insight floored him. He could lie, but there was no point. She would see through him. Finally, he nodded. “The thought had occurred to me. Let’s get some lunch and then look into the paperwork.”

  “Paperwork? You hate paperwork.”

  “I do, but you’re right, we can’t charge in. We have to build a case, and there are a lot of questions that haven’t been answered.”

  “Yes, and the first one on my list is how does Lucy Portman fit into this?”

  Finn shrugged. “Maybe she’s just a broker. You know, a matchmaker?”

  Kennedy started the car. “So who approached whom?”

  “Ackerman’s already said Harris approached hi
m. That could be true—”

  “Or Ackerman could’ve found out about the coltan under Molly’s Mountain.” She shoulder-checked and then pulled into traffic. “Then he told his friends in the Syndicate about it, and Lucy introduced him to her lover, Harris. Then what? Did Harris forge the deeds to Molly’s Mountain or did he legitimately buy them?”

  Finn winced as she changed lanes suddenly, narrowly missing another vehicle. “I don’t know. We need evidence.”

  “I guess we’re doing paperwork then.” She stepped on the gas, heading to the Dumb Luck Café.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dana held her kitchen door open for Tim, all too aware that he stood a little too close. She could have backed away but didn’t.

  He had been quiet on the drive back to Hopefalls, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Her body didn’t care about his mood. She’d once read that a woman’s sexual appetite was affected by the hormones estrogen, progesterone, and testosterone. If that was true, they had a lot to answer for. Being in the enclosed truck, she had become fixated on his scent and his hands. The way he held the steering wheel fascinated her. Seriously, what sane woman would become obsessed with a man’s hands? She needed to stop daydreaming about what it would feel like to make love to him. They would have sex, and she would be able to think again.

  This wasn’t like Eva wanting to use him. Dana genuinely liked him. Not only had he saved Logan, but he had also listened to her and understood what she was going through. He was kind, compassionate, and brave, and possibly her only friend.

  “What time does Logan finish school?” His gold eyes wandered the room, taking in the peeling wallpaper, the green appliances, and the mess. She hadn’t tidied up before she’d left. It hadn’t occurred to her. She’d been focused on talking to Jack, and nothing else had mattered.

  “He won’t be home for an hour.” Her skin tingled as he reached around her to close the door.

  “Good.” He backed her up until her butt was against the fridge. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to.

  Every nerve ending, every molecule in her body, was charged, ready to ignite. She wanted him, wanted to touch all of him. She imagined straddling him on the kitchen table.

  “What are you thinking?”

  She tilted her face up so she was staring into his eyes. “Why?”

  “You groaned.”

  She ran a finger from his corded neck down to the top button of his shirt. “I was thinking how much I’d like to use your body for my personal pleasure.”

  “I don’t know if I can allow that. You haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”

  “Playing hard to get?”

  “A man has to have standards, and if I allow you to use my body, then you might not respect me in the morning.”

  She laughed, throwing her head back.

  He kissed below her ear and then trailed kisses down her throat.

  She tugged at his shirt, pulling it free of his jeans.

  His mouth found hers. His tongue plunged between her lips. She hadn’t thought she could become more aroused. She was wrong. The combination of his hands under her shirt, stroking her back, and his sweet, warm mouth on hers made her crazy. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, tearing the last few open, wanting to feel his skin and run her hands over his taut, naked chest, but he had other ideas. He tugged at her T-shirt, flipping it over her head. Then he stopped and stared at her. With one finger, he pushed down her bra cup and stroked the nipple, which showed its appreciation by thrusting upward as if begging for more attention. Heat flooded her body. A thousand electrical impulses hummed through her veins, accumulating at the apex of her thighs.

  He placed his hands under her buttocks, picked her up, and carried her to the kitchen table. She pushed the mess aside as her butt touched the surface.

  His mouth closed over hers again. His tongue slid inside to twine with hers as he unclipped her bra and tossed it aside. Then his thumps played with her sensitive nipples. The intensity of her reaction stunned her. It was as if her body was on fire.

  It wasn’t enough for her to sit on the table and let him touch her. She needed to participate, wanted to excite him and feel his warm sex in her hands. She fought with the stiff button of his fly.

  His mouth closed over her breast. She cried out as her body reacted, arching, thrusting out her chest while pushing her pelvis closer. This was happening so fast.

  He continued his onslaught. One hand slid under her butt, pressing it against the bulge of his penis.

  She managed to undo the button and then slowly slid his zipper down, wanting to feel him writhe within her. Her hand enfolded his penis.

  His mouth found hers. Their tongues curved together, searching, exploring, igniting. The erection in her hand grew even more engorged.

  He tore at the zip of her pants in a frantic attempt to rid her of her cumbersome bottoms, tugging them off, and throwing them on the floor.

  He plunged inside. She arched, feeling stretched, her body shocked at his intrusion. It was as if she’d touched a live wire. Every part of her, every nerve was raw, tender, and ready to shatter. At the same time, it felt right as if she were home.

  He stilled, putting his forehead to hers. “I can’t move. If I do, I’ll come.”

  An involuntary sob escaped her lips. He couldn’t stop now. She needed…needed…more.

  She sat on the table impaled by his penis. His arms were clamped around her. She wanted to flip him over so she was on top and in control, but she couldn’t move.

  She contracted her vaginal muscles, clenching his penis.

  He arched, thrusting himself deeper.

  She clenched again.

  “God.” He thrust harder, faster.

  And then she was lost in a maelstrom of sensation as he drove her closer to the edge. He pressed her down so she lay on the table, exposed and vulnerable. She rearranged her legs so they dangled over his shoulders, the position forcing him deeper still. She was so close, so near, and yet she couldn’t go over, couldn’t find completion.

  He continued his onslaught, his hands resting on the tabletop, pinning her knees against her shoulders. He thrust faster, driving, pushing her closer. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she was lost. A light flashed behind her eyes. She pulsated around him, her body erupting in a flood of quivering spasms as her orgasm spun out of control.

  ****

  It was a while before she was able to move. Tim was bent over her, his head resting on her chest. Finally, she ran a hand over his hair, reveling in the feel of his soft mane, damp from exertion. “I need to get up.”

  With a groan, he stood.

  She followed, pushing off the table, shaking so much she was surprised her knees supported her. She snatched her clothing from the floor. Quickly, she climbed into her underwear. Had she moved too fast and allowed her own desires to take control? She’d only known him for three days. Yes, she considered him one of the good guys, and obviously their attraction was mutual, but she had never jumped so quickly into bed with anyone. There was so much they didn’t know about each other. Plus, he was still a suspect in Ben’s death. If this continued, she would be forced to choose between her career and him, and she wasn’t ready for that level of commitment.

  Her doubts must’ve shown on her face because he hooked her chin with his index finger. “I didn’t plan this.”

  That was true. She was the one who’d rushed things, who’d invited him back to her place. This was her plan. Her face flushed. “Was this a mistake?”

  He zipped his fly and stared down at her, his eyes serious and hard. “No. This was not a mistake. This was going to happen. It just happened sooner rather than later.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We are in a relationship.” He poked the air with his index finger to make his point.

  “We only met three days ago.”

  “So?” He shrugged into his shirt.

  She tugged her top over her head, not bothering with her bra. “Wh
at I’m trying to say is that we don’t know each other.” And you’re a person of interest in a murder investigation.

  “Don’t we? I know everything about you that’s important. You are a woman who would rather move and relocate your son than be dishonest. The small stuff we’ll learn over time.”

  He was right, despite Booley’s accusations, and his attempts to blacken Tim’s name, she did know one thing about him that stood out. “You saved my son from a bear, and you came to report that bear to your worst enemy because it was the right thing to do. You must’ve dreaded walking into the police station.”

  He shook his head. “You have no idea.”

  Her past boyfriends weren’t like Tim. He was intense and serious whereas, by comparison, they had been downright casual. “Look, it’s been years since I had a boyfriend. I got carried away, and I’m not good at relationships.”

  “Meaning, it’s been years since you’ve had sex?”

  She nodded.

  He narrowed his gaze, his golden eyes twinkling. “How many years?”

  She inhaled. “Three. Can we forget about this and start over?”

  He stepped closer, pulling her into his arms, grinning. “I could say yes, but I’d be lying. And I don’t want to forget. You and I are real. That’s just the way it is.” He touched his lips to hers in a chaste kiss and then turned to the clock on the stove. “Logan will be here soon. I should get going.”

  She placed a hand on his chest. His shirt hung open, allowing her to enjoy the feel of his course hair under her fingers. Her hand wandered to a scar on his right side under his ribs. He’d been shot. Xavier had told her when he’d looked into Tim’s background, but knowing he’d been wounded and seeing the scar were two different things. When she touched the mottled flesh, she realized how close to death he had come.

  He snagged her hands, pinning them to her sides. “Oh, and you should know, wearing a white T-shirt and no bra is a real turn on.”

  Before she could react to his statement, his mouth covered her breast through the fabric. She wrapped one leg around him, willing him to take her. Heat flooded her body. She wanted him to make love to her again, wanted to lose control and go wild. Next time she would be on top.