Nick considered all that he had heard. Seemingly content to allow him this time, Justice continued a relaxed pose across from him. The man was as well known for his sexual exploits as he was for his charitable foundations. And yet here he was indicating that he was a hell of a lot more than just a playboy or philanthropist.
“What happens if I say no?”
“Then I’ll be on my way.”
“Just like that…even though I know this about you?”
“Again, Mr. Gallagher, I don’t deal with untrustworthy people. If you say no to my proposal, I have every faith that you will never mention this discussion to anyone.”
“But you’ll still find a way to use Kennedy.”
“By her own actions, Mrs. O’Connell has indicated she wants to be involved in bringing Slater to justice. I intend to make it easier for her.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
“I make no pretention of my motives.” Justice went to his feet. “But from the sound of your comments, it doesn’t look like you’ll be interested.”
“I didn’t say that. I would need your guarantee that Kennedy would be protected.”
“Protecting the people who work for me is my number one concern.”
“Then why is Jonah Slater in prison?”
For the first time since this bizarre conversation started, Nick saw emotion on Justice’s face. No matter how unfazed the man pretended to be, Jonah Slater’s incarceration had made an impact.
“When the truth comes out, Jonah will receive a new trial and be exonerated.”
“You sound very sure of yourself.”
“That’s because I don’t fail, Mr. Gallagher. My methods may take longer than I like, but in the end, there will always be justice.”
“Odd how your name fits this mysterious persona of yours.”
Without acknowledging the comment, Justice raised a questioning brow, waiting for Nick’s answer. And since it had been decided the moment he’d seen Kennedy’s picture, he saw no reason to delay the inevitable.
“I’m in. What do I need to do?”
Chapter Ten
Slater House Hotels
Dallas, Texas
Rachel Walker peered intently at her computer screen. Crap, that wasn’t right. She pulled off her glasses, wiped a couple of smudges from the lenses and returned them to the bridge of her nose. They weren’t prescription—just plain, ordinary glass. She didn’t wear them to aid her in seeing. Rather, the glasses helped others from seeing the real her. They were the subtlest of the changes she had made to her appearance.
She scanned the spreadsheet until she spotted the mistake. Clicking the backspace key, she typed in the correct numbers, then hit enter. There—her work was finished. What should have taken eight hours had been accomplished in four. Amazing what a properly motivated employee could do. After lunch, while she looked still busy at her job, she would snoop.
Standing, she stretched her back and neck muscles until she heard a small pop. Sitting in one place for a long time wasn’t good for her posture or health, but the job was what it was. Boring, but in its own way fulfilling. Right now, she was one tiny cog in the giant Slater machine, but one day she would be much more. This she vowed.
“Hey, Rachel. We’re going to lunch. Want to come?”
She glanced over her shoulder at three of her co-workers. They were a friendly group, and despite her desire to stay as isolated as she could, she had blended in well with them. She was just one of the millions of young, single women earning a living in the big city.
Still, going to lunch was out of the question. There were two or three reports she had new access to that she wanted to peruse. She needed privacy for that. Not that she expected to find anything illegal or incriminating in them, but the more she learned about the business the better her chances for promotion.
She gave them a friendly grin. “Thanks, but I brought my lunch.”
Throwing her a “see you later,” the small, cheerful group of women walked out the door. She turned back to the computer and was about to click onto a new screen when someone called her name.
Startled, she looked up into the smiling face of her supervisor. She had thought the woman had gone to lunch, too.
“Yes?”
“Have you taken your lunch break yet?”
“No, I was just about to.”
“I’m going to eat in the break room. Want to join me? I need to talk to you about something.”
Refusing wasn’t an option. She was finding that her eager-to-please attitude was opening doors earlier than she had ever anticipated.
A shot of fear surged through her that she quickly squelched. If her real identity had been discovered, her supervisor wouldn’t be the one dealing with her. It would be someone with more authority and a deadly motive.
The thought giving her ease in its own bizarre way, she nodded eagerly at the woman. Sandra Frost was just one of dozens of supervisors in this huge hotel conglomerate, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have knowledge to share.
The woman smiled and turned away, never realizing that Rachel had only one thing on her mind—picking the woman’s brain of everything she knew about her job and the owners of the company. Rachel was like a sponge, eager to move forward in her new career. She wanted to be known as the most dedicated and ambitious employee the Slaters had ever had. But unlike most ambitious women, her ultimate goal had nothing to do with money or prestige and everything to do with gaining justice.
Seven days later, Kennedy sat in a chair in front of a massive cherry wood desk belonging to Eli Slater. Never had she anticipated that sharing lunch with her supervisor last week would lead her here.
Nerves jumped like manic crickets inside her, and she worked with all her might to get her jitters under control. She crossed her legs, and the instant she saw her leg swinging, she dropped both feet back to the floor. Showing a few nerves was fine—after all, she was interviewing for a new, much-higher-paying position. Revealing that getting this job meant a lot more to her than just a higher salary and some nice perks would have been a major mistake. She was a motivated young woman, eager to move up in the world, nothing more.
When her supervisor had told her about the opening and suggested she try for it, there had been no hesitation in Kennedy’s agreement. The closer she could get to the “family”, the better for her plans.
As she waited for Eli Slater to arrive, Kennedy reviewed what she had dug up about the man. He was the next to the youngest of Mathias and Eleanor Slater’s sons. A thirty-four-old widower with two young daughters, Eli had been in charge of the Slater House Hotels for ten years as chief operating officer. The luxury hotels were in every corner of the world. Eli had run them from the corporate headquarters in London for six years. Four years ago he had moved his family to the U.S.
Known to be tough but fair, it was reported that when he wasn’t working, the man was with his children. Rumor was he had been devastated by the death of his wife, Shelley, who had lost her battle with drugs and alcohol only months after giving birth to their second child.
Kennedy had done extensive research on the entire family and had found Eli to be one of the most mysterious—not because she couldn’t find any information, but because he seemed so damned normal. An everyday, average man devoted to his family, his job, and his employees. Nothing in his profile suggested that he was involved in anything remotely illegal.
Of course, that kind of cover-up was how the Slaters had stayed out of trouble for so long. They portrayed themselves as a large, loving, and successful family. The only taint was Jonah Slater, who was serving a long prison sentence. And even though she had never met the man, his arrest and conviction had been the beginning of the end for her and Thomas.
The door swung open, and Kennedy twisted her head around as Eli Slater entered. A few inches over six feet tall, the man strode into the room with a surprising grace and lack of sound. For such a large man, he moved with a fluidity she’d only ever seen i
n a dancer. With thick, blondish hair, an artfully angular face, and warm brown eyes, he could have been the poster boy for All-American good looks. How could evil be so handsomely disguised?
“Ms. Walker, thank you for agreeing to this interview.”
Standing, she held out her hand. “It’s my pleasure, Mr. Slater. I’m excited for the opportunity.”
After shaking her hand with a cool, firm grip, he rounded his desk and dropped gracefully into his chair. The instant she was seated again, he gave her an impersonal but polite smile. “You come highly recommended by all of your supervisors. When I mentioned the need for a new executive assistant in our weekly staff meeting, your name was brought up by several people.”
“I’m flattered. I—”
“Don’t be. If you’re half as good as you’re reported to be, then it’s hard work that’s brought you here.”
She nodded and remained quiet.
“This job will challenge you, and at times I’m sure you’ll question your sanity and want to quit. However, if you stick with it, I believe you’ll find it to be more rewarding than you ever thought possible.”
“Can you explain what the job entails?”
“You’ll handle my daily calendar and all travel arrangements, organize staff meetings, prepare press announcements. Screen all of my calls—my secretary will give you a list of approved people. You’ll also be provided with two assistants and can delegate the more mundane matters to them. Once you’re more comfortable with the day-to-day operations, I’ll want you take over some of the analytical responsibilities. I understand you’re proficient in the most up-to-date analytical software?”
“Yes.” She had acquired these skills in previous jobs and had learned even more since moving to Dallas. If she got this job, she would make herself invaluable, indispensible. The more Eli Slater trusted her, the better for her plan.
“Do you have any issues with travel?”
“Travel?”
“Yes, I’ll expect you to go with me on business trips and attend various functions.”
Even though this was a common duty for an executive assistant, a warning bell went off in her head. She would be in close proximity with this man night and day. Would Eli Slater expect more from her than the normal executive assistant duties? There were a lot of things she would do to gain this man’s confidence…sleeping with him would not be one of them.
She took in his expression and demeanor. She saw no indication that he found her even remotely appealing. Though not particularly vain, Kennedy had become accustomed to the gleam of attraction in men’s eyes. It was reassuring that Eli Slater didn’t appear to even see her as a woman.
“Travel is fine.” And because she had to know for sure, she added, “I’m single and am only responsible for myself.”
His expression never changing, he stood and rounded his desk once more. “Report here tomorrow morning at nine.”
“That’s it?” Kennedy inwardly grimaced at her first unguarded moment. But she couldn’t believe he was hiring her without even interviewing her beyond those vague questions. And she was supposed to start immediately?
“Was there something more you should have told me or I should have asked?”
“Sorry…no. I just assumed you would have more questions.”
“Your reputation got you the job. Our meeting was a formality.”
Surprised but pleased, Kennedy stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Instead of the cursory nod she expected, a slight gleam came into his eyes. “Thank you for the opportunity, Ms. Walker.”
With that enigmatic statement, he opened the door for her, and she walked out.
As she made her way home that night, Kennedy reflected on the grueling and emotional journey she’d taken to get this far.
When she had realized her house was most likely bugged, she had known she had only a finite amount of time before someone came after her. Having lived with so little as a child had trained Kennedy to be a minimalist. She didn’t need a lot in the way of material things to survive. Being married and secure with Thomas had blurred that lifestyle, but she had never allowed herself to collect “things” the way regular people did.
With that mindset, she had thrown clothes, shoes, a makeup bag, and her small amount of jewelry into a duffle bag and was ready. Even though a part of her had ached to take some of Thomas’s things, she’d forced herself to settle for his leather jacket that still carried his scent and an old Texas A&M sweatshirt he’d practically worn out. On her way out the door, she had weakened and grabbed a framed photo of their wedding day, along with a photo album that chronicled their short life together. Altogether, it had taken her about five minutes.
The only anomaly in her escape had been her middle-of-the-night visit to the ICU ward to visit Nick. Seeing him like that had steeled a resolve in her that nothing and no one could shatter. She had no proof that Slater had been behind Nick’s shooting, but it was just too damn coincidental that Thomas had been murdered, and three days later his best friend had been shot.
She had followed Nick’s progress as best she could. Through newspapers and by lurking on the Facebook and Twitter accounts of some of his friends, she knew his recovery had been slow and painful. She knew there were days, maybe weeks, when the doctors didn’t know if he would survive. But he had. Knowledge of his recovery had helped but hadn’t diminished her determination to see this through. Both he and Thomas deserved justice for what had happened to them.
Upon completion of her new identity, she had moved to Dallas. The first couple of months, she had concentrated on getting settled—bought a house, opened a bank account and credit lines at local stores—all the things a new resident might do. And she had continued her research on the Slaters. Having had almost no knowledge of them, other than the few things she had heard, she’d had a lot to learn.
Once she had been reasonably sure of her course, she had applied for a job at Slater House Hotels. At that time, the only opening had been an entry-level position. Even though she had documentation that Rachel Walker had a business management degree, she’d assured the personnel director that she would be quite happy to start at the bottom. Laying it on thick about her admiration for the Slater empire and how much she wanted to work for such an impressive company, she’d never given the man the chance to tell her she was overqualified. Within a week, she had been hired.
Every opportunity for advancement that had come her way, she had applied for and gotten. Yes, they had still been low-level positions, but that hadn’t mattered. In each job, she’d learned a little more and earned a reputation for being a motivated, dedicated employee, eager to move up and open for all opportunities.
Today, that reputation had paid off. She would soon be working for Eli Slater himself.
Even though she knew Thomas would never have wanted her to put herself at risk like this, she couldn’t help but believe he would be proud of her progress. One day the Slaters would be sorry as hell they had ever heard of the O’Connells of Houston, Texas.
Chapter Eleven
Nick sat in the dark, waiting. Kennedy should be home soon. Breaking into her house had taken him a lot longer than he had anticipated. Not only did she have a quality security system, she had locks that would make most intruders turn around and find an easier target. He wasn’t most intruders. He was here on a mission—to talk her out of whatever harebrained scheme she had cooked up. And if that didn’t work, then he was going to aid her. Either way, he was here for the duration.
Yesterday he’d followed her from the building where she worked to her house. It had been all he could do not to call out her name when she’d walked to her car. He literally ached to be in her presence but had made himself wait. He was glad he had. As if she knew or feared she was being watched, she had taken an odd, circuitous route home. In fact, he’d almost lost her twice. She was, understandably, skittish as hell.
A week ago he hadn’t known wha
t had happened to her or where she was. And now, in mere minutes, she would be close enough to touch. Something he was still trying to process.
He had to give Grey Justice credit. When the man said he would take care of things at the precinct, he’d meant it. The day after their meeting, Nick had gone to work, still struggling with how to take leave without appearing as though he would be pursuing an investigation of the Slaters on his own. He’d barely sat at his desk before his captain had called him into his office. It seemed the governor had requested a special statewide task force be formed to battle inner-city gangs in the major cities. Nick was being asked to join—a six-month commitment, maybe longer. Was he interested?
Oh, hell yeah, he was interested. Nick had never doubted that Justice had somehow created this opportunity. And when he’d gone to his first meeting, his suspicions were confirmed. The meeting had been nothing more than a young man with an envelope with all the information he would need to find Kennedy and a note from Justice saying he would be in touch.
As much as he’d wanted to hop on a plane and go after her immediately, Nick had forced himself to wait. If he were being watched, no way in hell would he lead anyone to Kennedy’s door.
In between finishing up as many cases as he could so Margo wouldn’t be stuck with them, Nick had spent hours researching. This time, instead of trying to find dirt on the Slaters, he had dug up what he could on Grey Justice. Surprisingly and disturbingly, it wasn’t what he had found that concerned him—it was what he couldn’t find. The man was a billionaire, several times over, having invented a small computer device that apparently every company in the world decided they needed. Raised in a small town outside London, parents deceased, moved to the States when he was in his early twenties. Single, never been married, dated a variety of women, and had been on several top ten lists of the world’s most desirable bachelors.
Nothing To Lose: A Grey Justice Novel Page 9
