by Jane Keeler
“That doesn’t prove anything. Have you any evidence to support your accusations?”
“I took a video with my phone. The sound’s not that great, but it sure looks like they’re up to something. If you ask me. Which you didn’t, to be fair. Of course, it’s not me who’s gonna lose billions if the kitten gets out of the carryall. If you know what I mean.”
Westley sighed. “I take your meaning. How much do you want?”
“I figure fifty grand sounds like a nice round number.”
Westley talked him down to five thousand for the video, with an additional five if the evidence led to a conviction. They agreed to meet that afternoon, which gave Westley enough time to contact Special Agent Ben Chambers. The FBI agent agreed to send a team with Westley to make sure the transaction went smoothly.
The owner of the voice was average height, balding, and almost totally forgettable. Westley wasn’t surprised the man could film two people at a supposedly secret meeting with impunity. He faded into the background.
“Show me the money. As they say.”
“I want to see the video first.”
The man placed an SD card on the table in front of him.
Westley put the bundle of hundred-dollar bills on the table. He let the man see it and flipped through to show that the bills were hundreds from beginning to end.
“All squared away, squire.”
Squire? It sounded like the informant had been reading too many period novels. Or maybe watching PBS, although he didn’t look like the PBS type.
Westley realized he didn’t want to watch the video. ‘Someone he trusted,’ the man had said. That was a very short list, and Westley didn’t want to see the proof that one of the people on that list was a traitor.
However, he pulled off the Band-Aid, pressing play in a single abrupt movement.
The video was quite clear, considering. It clearly showed Jeff Leonard, his chief of security, in an intense conversation with a man in a red t-shirt. They passed something between them and Jeff walked away. The man left soon afterwards. The sound was garbled and useless, but some kind of transaction had clearly taken place.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” Westley said. “That man could be anyone.”
“Have a little faith, squire.”
“Stop calling me squire,” Westley snapped, in a rare show of temper.
The video continued, only now it showed ten-year-old headlines from various newspapers. The man in the red t-shirt had been arrested for his participation in a corporate espionage gang. Their method was to infiltrate the targeted company’s computers with malware that would steal their confidential data.
Westley’s jaw clenched. Under the table his right hand made a thumbs-down motion—the agreed-upon signal for the FBI agents to close in.
“I acknowledge this information is good. You may have to testify at the trial, so we need your name and contact information.”
“Oh hey sq—guy, I don’t know about that. I need to stay on the down-low, you know?” The man jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. The two FBI agents were behind him.
They sat down on either side.
“It may be possible to keep your involvement confidential,” said one of the agents.
“After all, you’ve been very helpful,” said the other.
“We have no wish to compromise your safety.”
“Which is why we need your name, address, and phone numbers.”
“So we can keep an eye on you.”
“Protect you.”
The man’s shoulders slumped. “Fine.”
Seeing the agents had everything in hand, Westley strode towards his car.
“Hey guy!” the man yelled after him. “You remember the second part of our agreement, capisce?”
Westley waved an arm irritably. He was on the phone with Ben, who had heard every word of the conversation, transmitted through his agents’ listening devices. Ben had notified a cyber crime unit and they were proceeding to Braxton Industries as quickly as possible. Westley let out a silent breath. Damage control was on the way.
That didn’t stop him from racing back to the office. He saw that Jeannette was back from her errand. She nodded at him. He raised an eyebrow. At least he had some good news in all this mess.
The cyber crime unit consisted of two agents. One of them looked like a teenager in an FBI suit. His tie was bright green and featured an eye-watering pattern—Westley squinted—of squid with reptile wings. The other agent was a slightly older woman, mid-twenties at least, and much more sedately dressed.
The squid lover approached Westley. “Hello, are you Westley Braxton?”
“I am. Someone from our IT should be here to assist you shortly.”
Roosevelt Marsh said, “Speak of the devil and he appears.”
Roosevelt Marsh (Rosey for short) was second-in-command at Braxton Industries’ IT department. He was a man whose slightly soft look belied his astute and capable mind. He introduced himself to the FBI agents and the three of them went off to confer in a corner.
Westley left them to it and sought out Jeannette. He heard Roosevelt say, “Nah, all the USB ports on our computers were disabled last year,” before turning the corner out of earshot.
Jeannette was at her desk.
“How did it go?” Westley asked.
“She agreed to come on board.”
Westley smiled. Jeannette had gone to make an offer to the CEO of Sunace, a solar-cell manufacturing company. For years, Westley had followed Maxine Gregory’s career with interest. Cleantech was one of her special causes, and he thought she would be the perfect fit for what he had in mind.
His son Gabriel had a great heart, but he was impulsive and easily distracted. Maxine, with her strict ethics and ruthless intelligence, would be a good counterbalance for him.
They would run the company very well together when Westley stepped down as CEO of Braxton Industries.
Chapter 14
“Okay, that’s very good,” Sarah said. “The next thing we do is add the yeast.”
She surveyed her three young charges. She was teaching Sabrina, Ryan, and Arabella how to make bread.
Sabrina had the makings of a very good cook—she’d had a lot of practice. She was usually the default responsible adult in her household, although things had been better since Ryan had come home from the hospital. The first medication they’d put him on had given him night terrors, the second had made him sick to his stomach, but he seemed to be adjusting well to the third.
Ryan smiled at her. He looked good, although sometimes he had a little trouble talking. He would stammer, or use the wrong word, but it was happening much less frequently now. At least he was calmer and not as frightened from day to day.
Sarah was teaching him exercises to strengthen the boundaries of his spirit, so he wouldn’t be as vulnerable to otherworldly hunters and parasites that might be tempted to prey upon him.
Such creatures tended to cluster around alcoholics. Sometimes Sarah thought about giving Sabrina an herb to mix into her father’s food that would make him drink less. She hadn’t done it yet, though. Boyd Cooper was a feckless drunk, but he wasn’t abusive. Sarah was still hoping he would ask for help on his own.
“What do we do now, Miz Abbot?” Arabella asked.
“Now we add the water and moosh it around,” Sarah replied.
“What about the salt?” Sabrina asked.
“That’s a very good question.” Sarah smiled at the girl. “You never want to forget the salt. But the way we’re making this we add the salt later, after the first rise.”
The rest of the day was spent cleaning, drinking tea, mooshing bread dough, snacking, shaping, baking, and chatting. Sabrina was particularly excited about the upcoming Valentine’s Day dance at the school.
In the afternoon, the young people said their goodbyes and departed with their loaves. The kitchen was spick and span, warm and fragrant with the scent of fresh bread, but it was all Sarah could do not
to mope aimlessly around the place.
Westley still called regularly, but Sarah wondered if he had changed his mind about her. Karlee said they were getting very secretive over at Braxton Industries. Gabe wouldn’t even tell her what was going on—something about stock prices, he said.
Sarah tried to have faith, but it got more and more difficult as the months wore on. Westley said he still cared for her, but a man could say all sorts of things. It was his actions that counted. He certainly seemed in no hurry to return. He’d never even come to visit. Her chest constricted and she couldn’t breathe for a moment. She wiped her eyes on her apron.
He’d never said he loved her. There was no particular reason he should. They’d had an enjoyable two-week fling and now it was over. It was nice that he wanted to stay friends, but she didn’t know if she could take it. Every conversation was a reminder of what she had lost.
Sarah decided to re-organize the pantry. It could use a good cleaning—many of the jars and bottles were dusty. It would be a good idea to arrange them by date, too.
At least she knew the factory was still on-track. The Hannahs Branch spy corps reported frequent sightings of the environmental assessment team in town, usually with Robyn in tow. Braxton Industries had selected and purchased a site. They’d installed sheds for offices and building materials were piling up. The grapevine said construction would start as soon as the ground thawed in the spring.
The teachers at the local high school revealed that someone had approached the principal with funding for school programs. Most of these concentrated on preparing the students for engineering, computer science, and robotics degrees, but there was also money set aside for art and music.
Hannahs Branch was coming back to life, and that was the important thing. Not Sarah’s empty bed and aching heart.
She scrubbed viciously at a spot on the pantry floor. Sometime in the past someone had spilled blackberry jam on it, which had set like concrete. It had dyed the floor purple too. Sarah wondered if a paste of baking soda and hydrogen peroxide would get the stain out. It was worth a try.
The phone rang. Sarah took off her kitchen gloves and trudged over to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Sarah!”
“Oh. Hi Westley.”
“Can you come to New York? Please? I’ll send a car and the jet to pick you up. You’ll only be gone a few days. You said Sabrina and Ryan are doing well.”
The stiffening went out of Sarah’s knees and she sat down abruptly. “Sure. Okay. I’d love to come! When?” She was having trouble stringing words together.
“As soon as you like. Any time day or night. Just tell me when you want to leave.”
Sarah laughed. Her body felt so light it might float up to the ceiling. “How about tomorrow morning?”
Sarah was now an old hand at flying in luxurious private planes. The flight attendant served up her meal with all the deference he gave Westley. Sarah felt a little bad that she couldn’t give the food the attention it deserved. She barely picked at her crepes and fruit.
The hours dragged on and she couldn’t sit still. She paced up and down the aisle and was incredibly glad when the captain finally announced that they were landing.
Westley looked very much like he had when she first met him. The tan he had developed was completely gone and he was wearing an expensive business suit. However, his luminous smile of greeting showed how much he had changed since then.
Sarah buried her face in the side of his neck. “I missed you so much,” she whispered.
His arms wrapped tight around her and his lips found hers in a gentle but passionate kiss. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said.
On the ride to his apartment he couldn’t stop touching her. He kissed her hair, her brow, her lips, her neck, then progressed to nibbling along the curve of her ear and sucking gently on her earlobe. Her toes curled and tingles spread throughout her body, coalescing into a warm, heavy weight in her lower belly.
Chapter 15
“My goodness!” Sarah’s neck turned back and forth as she gawked at Westley’s apartment. “This place is gorgeous!”
“I’m rather fond of it myself.” Westley set the deadbolt and activated the burglar alarm.
“Is this really a Van Gogh?!” she called from the living room.
“One of his early paintings.”
“Look at this kitchen!” Followed by the sound of cabinet and refrigerator doors opening and closing. “Holy moly! Truffles!”
Westley smiled.
Sarah rushed out of the kitchen to hug him and then ran off to investigate the bedroom.
She came out at a more sedate pace, smiling at him.
“That there is an awfully nice bathroom. Even better than the one at that hotel we stayed in.” She stopped in front of him and walked her fingers down the front of his shirt to his belt buckle. “I’ve been traveling for hours and I need to wash the road dust off.”
“Sounds like a, um”—Westley’s voice cracked—“a great idea.”
Sarah sashayed towards the bedroom, tossing a sexy wink back over her shoulder. He followed in a daze. He’d been fantasizing about her for months, and seeing her here, now, in his apartment, made him feel a little light-headed.
Once in the bedroom they undressed quickly. Westley had to hop around on one leg when he tried to take off his trousers only to find that he’d forgotten to remove his shoes first. Sarah, already naked, knelt and pulled them off. She pulled his briefs and trousers down the rest of the way. His cock sprang out, straining towards her.
She looked up at him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes and reached out to grasp his aching cock with both hands. He shivered as soft alternating squeezes caused lightning-like flashes of pleasure to radiate through his body. She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around his red and throbbing glans, sucking enthusiastically.
He groaned.
She looked up at him and seemed to see how close to the brink he was. Her lips came loose with a popping sound and she rose to a standing position. She patted his cock regretfully.
Westley laughed, a feral sound low in his throat. “I’ve really, really missed you.” He pulled her close for a kiss, delighting in the sensation of skin on hot skin.
They proceeded to the shower and Westley set the shower heads on the walls to a warm mist. Sarah grinned and spun around with her arms up, enjoying the spray.
Westley pumped out a handful of body shampoo and worked at it until he had a handful of bubbles. He rubbed the silky lather over her body, paying special attention to her slippery breasts and between her legs. He slid his fingers behind to gently massage around her anus. She moaned in approval and leaned against the wall so she could spread her legs wider.
He pressed the heel of one hand against her clit and tilted her hips forward. With the other hand he traced ever-decreasing circles around her fundament until he reached the center. Then he slowly introduced one finger, an inch at a time, until it was deep inside her. He rubbed the palm of his other hand against her clit until she was moving against him, then he slowly started finger-fucking her ass.
He felt the tight heat inside her loosen to accommodate him. She was moaning with his movements, so he carefully slid another finger into her. He pumped them in and out as he pulled his fingers forward, like he was rubbing her clit from the inside. Her legs were shaking now and she was gasping for breath, so he turned off the water and led her into the bedroom, pausing to grab the lube from the bathroom drawer.
She crouched on all fours on the bed, ass raised enticingly. He coated his cock thoroughly with lube then knelt behind her and pushed her legs wider apart. He paused, his cock barely touching her opening, pushing gently forward but not entering her yet.
She moaned and pushed back against him but he held her hips to keep her still. Slowly, so slowly, he inserted himself until his belly touched her ass. He reached around to play with her clit as he began to thrust into her.
He groaned. It was so hot an
d tight. He ground his hips forward, feeling her open to him deeper and deeper. They established a pulsing rhythm. He felt that tight heat building up around his cock and moved his hand faster against her clit. Her hips sped up against him and her rhythm disintegrated. Then the world around them seemed to disappear for a moment as they climaxed.
“At this rate we’ll be needing several showers a day,” Sarah said breathlessly.
Westley laughed and reached out for her. She curled up against him and they dozed until hunger pangs wakened them.
They took quick showers (alone this time) and made their way back to the front of the apartment.
“Would you like to go out for lunch?” he asked.
“I want to test drive that kitchen.”
Westley gazed at her affectionately. “I thought you might. I gave the housekeeper the day off.”
She made pan-fried veal and roast potatoes with arugula. It was as delicious as her country food creations.
“Sarah?” Westley looked down at her head, nestled against his shoulder. After lunch they had retired to the living room, where she’d told him all the news from Hannahs Brach, making him realize once again that small-town spy networks rivaled the best the government could produce.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“I have news.”
She sat up and looked at him. “That sounds serious.”
“I’ve handed over Braxton Industries to Gabe. He’s not quite ready to run it alone yet, so I’ve appointed someone to be his co-CEO. He can get his feet wet and see if this is something he can handle. He’s matured a lot in the last year and a half—I’m hoping to turn everything over to him eventually.”
Sarah looked at him searchingly. “You’ll have a lot of free time.”
“I’ve retained control of one part of our operations.” Westley licked dry lips. “I’ll be overseeing the new plant in Hannahs Branch.”
He felt a riot of butterfly wings up and down inside his stomach. He was almost certain she would say yes. Probably. Almost certainly probably.
