Dangerous Illusions (Steel Hawk Book 3)

by Sarah Ballance

  He caught her before she flew past him down the stairs. “Are you all right?”

  “Go after him.”

  He hesitated, but with her eyes flashing and her jaw set, she looked mad as hell. He took it at face value, knowing most people wouldn’t have it in them to look pissed if they were badly hurt.

  Knowing damn well Sophie wasn’t most people.

  Edward had almost reached the intruder when the door flew open. Light flooded the basement, blinding him. The man disappeared through the doorway in a blur. Edward chased after him, his feet hitting the asphalt just as the figure turned the corner into the back alley. He had far too much distance on Edward, and a few short strides would put him anonymously on the streets of San Francisco.

  He’d lost him. Frustration tightened his fists and tensed his jaw. He’d been so close to at least one answer, and he’d blown it. At least they had security footage.

  Edward had more important things to worry about.

  He turned, nearly walking into Sophie. She had dirt on her face, a likely result of tearing through a dark room caked in dust, but under it, her skin was bright red. “Did he hit you?”

  She nodded. Like it was casual.

  Like he didn’t suddenly want to rip off the bastard’s head for touching her.

  Edward gingerly brushed at the periphery of her injury. “What were you doing down there?” he asked.

  “I got curious. I started looking into the history of the building.” She was no longer cold toward him, or maybe in the excitement, she’d forgotten whatever had been bothering her.

  His relief at being back in her good graces, however temporarily, was short-lived. “So you went in the basement? In the dark? With the rats?”

  She shuddered. “Don’t remind me about the rats.”

  “I’m calling the police.”

  “Don’t,” she said, earning a sharp glance. “He’s gone, and I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to what’s going on around here.”

  Edward’s world darkened. Narrowed.

  She put a hand on his arm. “Relax,” she said. “This was round one. You can beat him to a pulp later.”

  “You can bet on it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Come on. You need to go to a doctor.”

  Her grip on his arm tightened. “Again, no. This isn’t my first rodeo. Nothing’s broken.”

  “Fine. But I’m walking you back to your hotel.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue. He took her hand and led her back into the basement, then shut and bolted the door behind them. After standing in the blinding sun, the basement seemed pitch-black. He waited at the top of the steps for his eyes to adjust, pleasantly aware that she hadn’t pulled her hand from his. “That door should have set off an alarm when he opened it.”

  “Maybe he deactivated it.”

  “That action has its own alarm.” He studied her profile for a moment. “You have to be a programmer here to do that.”

  “Sam is a programmer. So is Willie.”

  “So’s half the staff.”

  “Did the guy physically pass for either of them?” She asked. “I’ve mostly seen headshots, but even a full picture wouldn’t take movement into account. People tend to develop mannerisms that make them more recognizable than they’d like to think.”

  He couldn’t help wondering what she’d recognized in him. “He could have passed for either, but that doesn’t mean much. Average height and build, and between the dark and the distance, I couldn’t see much else.”

  “We need to see where each of them were this afternoon,” she said. “Maybe check with the front desk to see if either of them left work today or came back disheveled.”

  They exited the basement into the supply closet. Edward reluctantly dropped her hand to close the door, then moved a couple of boxes of copy paper in front of it so it wouldn’t open easily from the other side. He then locked the supply closet for good measure. “I’m going to shut down the basement,” he said. “Just in case someone saw one of us use that door. If you return to this floor, alarms will sound.”

  She nodded, then winced at the effort.

  He put a hand on her arm, turning her to look at him. Further scrutiny revealed that she was still squinting at the bright light. “You’re hurt.”

  “He got me pretty good,” Sophie admitted. “But it’s not that bad. I promise.”

  He gently brushed a stray hair from her face. “Let’s get you cleaned up before we go upstairs. I need to get my laptop, and I’m sure you’d like to grab your stuff. Then I’m walking you back to your hotel.”

  “I don’t so much fall for the caveman routine,” she said softly.

  “You don’t have a choice.” He took her to the nearest sink and wet a couple of paper towels from the dispenser. He dabbed at the bruise forming on her face, carefully lifting the loose dirt. Fortunately, there wasn’t much there.

  “You should see the other guy,” she joked weakly. She smiled.

  He wanted to kiss her. He almost did. But she’d told him to back off, and his caveman insistence only went so far.

  They took the elevator to the third floor. He grabbed his laptop, then waited for her to gather her things from his office. At the last minute, he remembered he needed to shut down his computer, so he leaned past her and jiggled the mouse.

  When the screen woke, it was full of vintage photographs of the annex building. It looked as if Sophie had told the truth, but when he went to log out, something else caught his eye.

  Sophie hadn’t been logged into the guest account.

  She’d been using his.

  Chapter Nine

  Monique looked up as her contact entered the café. He didn’t come straight for her. He never did. Instead, he spoke to a few other patrons and chatted up the barista. It wasn’t until he’d paid for his purchase—today a pack of gum—that he approached. He dropped the gum he’d just purchased on the floor and leaned to pick it up.

  “That bitch stuck her fingernails in my eye,” he hissed. “You can pass that along. Let him know my price just went up.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she murmured. Though she kept her voice low, the man’s anger alarmed her, as did the implication of his words.

  “He assured me I wouldn’t have any trouble today. I don’t take guarantees lightly.”

  Who assured him? Monique wasn’t allowed to make eye contact, but she did it anyway. “He contacted you?”

  The man straightened but spoke in a low voice. His tone deceptively pleasant, he said, “You’re not the only game in town, cupcake. Tell him I won’t have any information until I’m properly compensated for my trouble.”

  “But—”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. Break’s over, and I seem to have gotten something in my eye. You tell him.” He backed away from her, grinning. With a short, friendly wave—one he repeated to a number of people throughout the café—he walked outside and crossed the street to Steel Hawk.

  Monique’s hands shook.

  You’re not the only game in town. The words could only mean one thing—Rufus had someone else.

  He’d grown distant. He’d neglected her. And now this, her greatest fear realized.

  She snapped shut her laptop and stood. She was leaving. To go now would be to abandon his orders, but the contact had already made himself clear.

  It was past time Rufus did the same.

  * * * * *

  Edward didn’t so much walk as he stalked back to Sophie’s hotel, and there was no getting away from him. He kept a tight hold on her arm and stepped easily through the crowded sidewalks, but he was tall, wide, and etched with fury. It was no mystery why people scattered.

  When they arrived, he went straight for the elevator. “Which floor?”

  “Seventh.”

  He punched the button and didn’t release her until the elevator door closed.

  She adjusted the bag that had slipped from her shoulder. “Are you that afraid I’ll get away?”

  “Trust me
, Ms. Garza,” he said, his voice as dark as his countenance, “that’s the least of my concerns.”

  The doors slid open. He reached for her, but she stopped him with a glare. “I can manage.”

  “I’m sure you can.” He took her arm again, irritating her. She wasn’t a prisoner. “Which way?” he asked.

  Sophie shook him off and led the way to her room. She swiped the key card, then pushed open the door and stood back, a sarcastic gesture for him to enter.

  He did. She couldn’t say she was surprised, but she’d still only half expected him to go inside.

  She frowned. “You don’t read people very well, you know.”

  He shot her a dark look. “What’s to read? You don’t want me in here. Message received.”

  “Then why do you insist on being here?”

  He regarded her stone-faced, though some unnamed emotion churned in his eyes. “Because I want to know what you were doing on my computer.”

  So much for an unnamed emotion. He was pissed. And an idiot. “You told me to use your computer. Something about not being allowed to bring my laptop in to the network?”

  “I told you to use my computer, Ms. Garza. Not my account.” He kept his voice even, but fury emanated from him. That and something else. Hurt?

  And all over nothing. She forced back the urge to roll her eyes. “You were logged in when I got there, genius. And I didn’t have the password for the guest account. Is there anything else I can help you with before I show you to the door?”

  Edward just stared. After a long moment, he shook his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. Now will you go?”

  He brushed back a few strands of her hair—a habit he’d developed of which she’d grown rather fond. He’s just looking at the damage. That bastard in the basement had nailed her right below the eye, but it had been a sloppy throw. The impact had stung, but the soft, open fist wouldn’t do anything beyond the superficial.

  Edward, on the other hand…

  “Are you okay?” he asked. He was still so close. So intent.

  “You don’t need to look after me.”

  “What if I want to?”

  The soft look in Edward’s eyes would be the death of her. She took a shaky breath. “What happened between us—”

  “No. Don’t make excuses. It happened, and it was real.”

  She said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t notice her insides tied in knots. “That doesn’t make it right.”

  “Why does it have to be right?” he asked gently.

  “Since when do you care? Aren’t you attorneys supposed to stand for truth and justice and the American way?” He hadn’t trusted her and that irked her more than anything, but this wasn’t personal. It couldn’t be.

  “That’s not so much my motto. I would look terrible in tights.”

  She laughed, then immediately winced. “Ow.”

  “Sit.” He pointed to her bed. “I think these situations usually call for tea. Do you drink hot tea?”

  “I might be willing to dump some on your lap.”

  He frowned. “Never mind.”

  “I thought so. I appreciate your help, but I really want to be left alone.” Because being this close to a bed with a man like Edward was the most dangerous thing she’d done in a long time.

  “Why?”

  She stared at him. “I figured you’d get it. Aren’t you supposed to be a loner?”

  “I feel responsible for what happened to you.”

  His words crumbled something inside of her. It was probably the best answer he could give under the circumstances, but with it came the realization she’d succeeded in pushing him away. And wasn’t that what she wanted? She swallowed, hoping to chase away some of the conflicting emotion that seemed to have taken over her well-ordered life. “You feel responsible even though I shouldn’t have been down there to begin with?”

  His dark eyes had lost none of their intensity. “You wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t shown you the door.”

  “I’m doing my job. You were doing yours. There’s nothing more to it.” She shrugged, meaning none of the nonchalance for which she fought.

  For a long time, he just looked at her. His gaze drifted to her lips, then back to meet her eyes. “Okay,” he finally said.

  She swallowed. “Okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” He turned to go.

  “Edward, wait.”

  He paused, and the hope in his eyes nearly crushed her.

  She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Adam’s assistant, Honeysuckle. How well do you know her?”

  “I don’t outside of the office. I don’t know that we’ve ever had a conversation that wasn’t work related.”

  “Any…private meetings?”

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”

  “I just wondered if you might have seen any red flags with her that Adam might overlook, all things considered.” Sophie nearly choked on the lie, which wasn’t good. That meant things were a little too personal for her.

  “She seems competent,” he said, and she wondered if he was deliberately vague. But her sister had insisted it wasn’t her in the footage. Surely Sophie trusted that.

  “Does she resemble anyone else you know?” Like some woman in a ball gown you ravaged at a European castle?

  “What are you getting at?”

  “I saw some security footage of you in Zarrenburg with a woman who closely resembled Honeysuckle, and you appeared to have a fairly intimate relationship. I don’t want to muddy the waters, especially if it’s not related to the investigation, but if you and Honeysuckle are having an affair, that changes things.”

  As she spoke, his expression shifted from incredulous to furious. “I have never touched Adam’s PA, nor did I experience an intimate relationship with anyone in Zarrenburg. I’ve been justifiably distracted.”

  “Aren’t you still?” She left the rest unspoken. They may not have had sex, but things had definitely taken an intimate turn.

  He didn’t address that either. Instead he turned his back on her.

  And he left.

  But had he lied?

  Sophie stared at the door for a long time after it closed behind him. What was wrong with her? Edward wasn’t a client, but letting things go so far with him had been the worst of bad ideas. Relax. It was one day. You put an end to it. But had she? She’d seen a sex tape, for God’s sake. One that may or may not have been deliberately engineered so it looked like her sister was a participant. Could Edward’s participation also be faked? Why?

  Sophie carried no pretense of knowing everything about Edward, and what little she did know seemed to be in opposition to the man with whom she’d spent time. He was intense, but he had a great sense of humor and he was incredibly thoughtful.

  And a little too trusting.

  When he’d asked about her accessing his computer, she’d told the truth—he’d left his account open—but what she hadn’t said was that she’d set up remote access. She didn’t know how much time she had before he figured it out—or what kind of pissed he’d be when he did—but it was past time she put their personal relationship aside and get back to work. The sex tape, real or otherwise, had been a painful reminder that she’d gotten too close.

  Her lingering desire to chase him down the hall and drag him back to her room was a bigger one, and her self-inflicted admonishments weren’t helping.

  Lost in thought, she went into the bathroom and took the small stack of cups on the counter out of the plastic bag, then took the bag down the hall to the ice maker. She filled the impromptu cold compress, then treated herself to a Coke from the machine. Back in her room, she examined the damage, a bit relieved to find it wasn’t bad. The impact had stung, but there was no sign of bruising. With any luck, she’d avoid a black eye.

  Time to get back to work.

  She opened her laptop and connected to Edward’s computer. His Steel Hawk files carried an e
xtra layer of encryption—news that came as a relief—and she steered clear of them. At first glance, he didn’t seem to have much else going on. But in her business, first glances didn’t mean much.

  Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard, and she gave herself a mental kick. This is why you don’t kiss the target of your investigation. Because that was all he should be to her, and rather than sitting there worrying about invading his privacy she should be all over him. His files, she corrected. All over the files.

  She glanced up at the door through which he’d left, as if doing so would reveal some great truth.

  It didn’t.

  Remembering the sex tape helped.

  Somewhat renewed, she accessed his control panel. In folder options, she clicked Show Hidden Files, then began her perusal of his documents a second time. His computer appeared clean as a whistle…until she found a folder named settup.exe.

  Oh, you clever bastard. In the small font, she nearly missed the extra T on what was otherwise an extremely familiar name to practically anyone who’d spent any time on a computer. Heart hammering, she clicked open the folder and found…information on Zarrenburg? Why would he hide that? Steel Hawk’s ties with the European nation were far from secret. Curious, she clicked on the folder that shared the country’s name and scanned the contents. Illegal adoption? There were also copies of employment records at the Zarrenburg castle…records thirty to forty years old.

  Huh.

  She scrolled through the directory and found another folder simply titled New Folder. Inside were photos. She enlarged them one by one.

  The first was an article. Two Killed in Freak Accident. The victims were David and Ellen Long of Stockton, CA. Edward’s parents? The next image—that of an obituary taken from a newspaper clipping—confirmed it. They are survived by a son, Edward Long, 31, of San Francisco. The information Adam had given her indicated Edward was now thirty-two, and the joint obituary put his parents in their late 70s. That meant they’d been in their 40s when Edward was born—a late-in-life baby, especially for thirty years ago when the practice hadn’t been as in vogue as it was today, but certainly not unheard of.