by Rebecca Deel
“Do you have somewhere else you can go?” Ivy asked. She didn’t know if the police would be happy with her taking off, but if they had contact information, surely they couldn’t begrudge her staying someplace where she wouldn’t be afraid.
“You couldn’t leave town, Elise,” Alex said. “The police will want access to you. Is there a friend you can stay with or a relative?”
“My old college roommate lives across town. I could stay with her and her husband. He’s a cop.”
“Good choice.” Alex leaned forward. “When did Ian start worrying about problems at the office?”
“A couple months ago.”
Ivy’s stomach knotted. The same time Alex’s father started receiving emails with pictures of her and Alex. “And he never mentioned anything about Alex or his teammates?”
Elise hesitated. “Well, he knew about Alex, but the senator made Ian promise not to mention him to anybody.” She sent a puzzled glance at Ivy’s boyfriend. “That didn’t make sense to me. It’s not like your existence is a secret or anything.”
“My work with the military was sensitive, Elise. Dad was trying to protect me.”
“Oh. That makes sense I guess.”
Ivy patted Elise’s knee. “Did you notice anything odd about the office in the last two months? Were the staffers acting out of character?”
“The research guy, Anthony, was buried in his statistical reports, keeping an eye on the polls for the senator. Nothing out of the ordinary from him.”
“That leaves Sean Pierce,” Alex said. “Was he behaving out of character?”
“Not really.” She sounded doubtful.
“There must be something, Elise. You don’t sound convinced.”
“Well, Sean always gets a lot of phone calls.”
“He received more than normal recently?” Ivy asked.
Elise shook her head. “There were a few calls he must not have wanted anyone to overhear because he kept shutting his office door. Maybe the calls were personal.”
“Was he in the habit of taking personal calls at work?”
“I just thought he had a girlfriend or something and she was being demanding.”
“And you didn’t overhear any of those conversations?” Alex asked.
The staffer’s gaze dropped to her mug.
“Look at me,” he said.
Elise’s head snapped up, her eyes wide.
Ivy had never heard Alex use that commanding tone. She could well believe he was a strong leader in his unit.
“Your life is on the line and well as the lives of my teammates,” he said. “More important to me, Ivy is at risk. What you tell us might help uncover the person killed my father.”
“But what I overheard can’t be of any use,” she argued. “It had nothing to do with Ian or Senator Morgan.”
“It might mean a lot more than you think. Who was Sean talking to and what did he say?”
“I don’t know who he talked to, but they must have been in the military. I didn’t understand half of what Sean was saying.”
Alex squeezed Ivy’s hand. “Did any words stand out?”
“He wanted information on some mission, made remarks about black ops guys having egos the size of Texas.”
“Missions usually have a name. Did Sean mention which one he was interested in?”
“I didn’t hear a name, honest.”
“Any idea who Sean’s source is?”
Elise shook her head.
After asking a few more questions and eliciting no new information, Alex stood, drawing Ivy up with him. “Go pack a bag, Elise. We’ll wait until you’re finished. You need to get out of here. Go to your friend’s house, stay there until I tell you otherwise. I’ll call you when it’s safe to come home.”
“But what about my job? I can’t just not show up.”
“If you want to stay alive, that’s exactly what you’ll do. If anyone from the office calls to check on you, do not tell them where you are.” He helped the staffer to her feet. “Get ready to leave.”
They waited for twenty minutes while Elise threw clothes and toiletries into a couple suitcases, then Alex carried her bags to her car. They followed her to the friend’s house where Alex had a word with the policeman.
Ivy hoped their precautions were unnecessary, but she couldn’t live with the consequences if they hadn’t warned the woman of the danger circling her and her colleagues at Senator Morgan’s office.
Alex climbed into his SUV where Ivy waited for him. “The cop’s taking off the next few days. He plans to keep an eye on his wife and Elise.”
“Good. At least she has someone looking out for her.”
He drove the SUV toward Edenville and Ivy’s friend, Henry. He wasn’t looking forward to the coming confrontation with his brother.
Twenty minutes into the drive, Alex’s cell phone vibrated. He glanced at his screen, noted the caller was Eli Wolfe and activated his Bluetooth. “What’s up, Eli?”
“Didn’t interrupt your beauty sleep, did I?”
He snorted. “Not even close.” Alex didn’t consider two hours of sleep even a beauty nap.
“Sorry to hear about your father, Alex. How are you holding up?”
“Dealing and on the hunt for a murderer. What do you have for me?”
“Lola Bridges was working at the tavern last night. Brenna convinced her to eat with us on her dinner break. Seems Lola is a romance fan and she loves my wife’s books. She recognized Brenna right off.”
Alex grinned. “Nice.”
“I’ll say. Made our job a lot easier. According to her, Evans has been out of town for several weeks. He told her he was going to do some hunting.”
“Understatement.”
“Lola said Evans had come into some money recently.”
“How did she know?”
“Money’s burning a hole in his pocket. Bought a new Lexus sedan, black, with cash. Showed her his new handguns and rifles. Jon says from her description it sounds as if Evans picked up a sniper rifle.”
Alex’s hands tightened on the wheel. They had to find this clown before he took another shot at Ivy. “Anything else?”
“He gave Lola a diamond solitaire, a nice flashy one. Looked like a goose egg to me though Brenna tells me it was only a couple carats.”
“Nice,” Ivy said.
“Well, hello,” Eli said. “Is that sweet Ivy I hear?”
“It is. How are you, Eli?”
“I’m great, sugar. How’s the ankle?”
“Back to normal. Congratulations on your marriage.”
“Thanks. You keeping old Alex in line?”
Ivy smiled over at Alex. “Trying to, but it’s a tough job.”
Eli chuckled. “I hear you. Listen, Alex, if you want us to detour to D.C., we can be there in a few hours. We’ll need a place for our wives to stay out of the line of fire.”
“I think we’re covered. Stella’s in town and helping out.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. Ivy?”
“Yes, Eli?”
“Stay safe, sugar. You do exactly what Alex tells you to do. Hey, Army grunt?”
“What, frog boy?”
“From what Lola says, Evans left town with at least a couple of his buddies. You guys watch your backs.”
“Will do.”
“If you need the SEALs to come rescue you again, just give us a holler.” With a laugh, Eli ended the call.
Yeah, if they needed Eli and Jon to come from Kentucky to rescue them, Durango was in a world of trouble. So Evans had at least two men with him on this op. Did he have others along that Lola knew nothing about or was he stupid enough to believe he could take on Durango with three men?
He called Stella. When the marshal answered, he said, “It’s Alex. Have you heard back from the feds watching Blue Ridge?”
“Just finished talking to them a couple minutes ago. You’re never going to believe this, but they really think Trap McGee left the compound.”
“How do they
know?”
“The compound is always on alert, but a few weeks ago, the guards started slacking off in their vigilance.”
“Like the boss was gone.”
“Exactly.”
“Do they know how many are missing from the compound?”
“Can’t be positive, but they think four or five. According to my friend, the place is pretty busy. People coming and going at all hours of the day and night.”
Just like the military. In fact, most of their missions had been conducted at night. Better cover in the darkness. “It’s a safe bet the missing militia men are here in D.C.”
“That’s what we figured. Josh got in touch with your friend Clay, gave him a heads up in case the peashooter boys try something with your mother and brother. I know your Fortress friends are watching out for them, too.”
“More eyes on my family means they are that much safer. Thanks, Stella.”
A few minutes later, Alex took the exit for Edenville. Instead of parking in Henry’s driveway, he stopped six houses away.
“Are we getting some exercise?” Ivy asked as he shut off the engine.
“Hoping not to alert Porter to our presence before he’s in the house.” He climbed from the SUV and circled around the hood to help Ivy down. Keeping her hand in his, Alex walked with her to Henry’s front door.
The art broker answered their knock almost immediately. “Come in, Ivy and Alex.” He glanced at his watch. “The fake Alex should be here in another twenty minutes. He’s always on time. How are we doing this?”
“Would you mind us waiting in your work room?” Alex asked.
“Of course not. What do you want me to do when he arrives?”
“Whatever your normal routine is, Henry.”
“Then we’ll be heading to the work room almost immediately. He’ll want me to give him an estimate on the value and pressure me to complete the sale as fast as possible.”
“You won’t have to worry about that this time, Henry. Just bring him back here. I’ll take care of the rest.”
At ten on the dot, the doorbell rang.
Henry hurried down the hall, opened the door. “Mr. Morgan, come in. Two paintings today, I see. Come on back to the work room and we’ll take a look at these masterpieces.” Two sets of footsteps echoed as the two men walked down the hall.
Alex motioned for Ivy to stay seated. He stood, turned toward the door.
Henry stepped inside the room, moved to the side to allow Porter to pass him.
Porter pulled up short when he saw Alex. “What are you doing here?”
“I was going to ask you that question.” He nodded at the covered paintings in his brother’s hands. “Let’s see them, Port.”
“This is not your business, Alexander.”
“You made it mine when you used my name to sign over ownership of paintings that belong to Mother. Unwrap them, Porter.”
Though reluctant, his brother took the paintings out of the protective covers and laid them on Henry’s work table. Alex sighed. A Rembrandt and a Van Gogh. “Ivy, take a look at them.”
She and Henry bent over the paintings, talking in soft tones. Comparing notes, he assumed. Alex eyed his brother. From Porter’s expression, he was livid. Yeah, well, he could join the club. That made two of them.
“I want an explanation, Port. When Mother finds out what you’ve been doing, she’ll be devastated.”
“Oh, but I’m not the one she’ll be angry with. It’s your name on the sales slip.”
So he’d planned all along to blame Alex. Nice. “I haven’t been in Hunter’s Glen in fifteen years, Porter.”
“You’re supposed to be some hotshot black ops guy. You could have slipped into town, stolen the paintings and sold them for your own profit.”
“Come on, bro. No one’s going to believe that. How would I have known which paintings Mother had in order to replace them with the fakes?”
“I would have come up with an explanation for that.”
“Why, Porter? Why would you steal from our parents? The Morgan trust fund isn’t enough money for you?” He waited, watching the various expressions chase themselves across his brother’s face. He saw the moment Porter decided to tell him the truth.
“The trust fund is in trouble.”
“How much?”
“I made a few bad investments recently. I’ll get the money back. I just need a little more time and a cash flow to keep the household accounts going right now.”
A sliver of the truth, then. “What did you invest in?”
“A few hedge funds. It wasn’t my fault, Alexander. The market took a dive. It’s coming back up. I’ll recoup my losses and everything will be fine.”
Alex stared at his brother. A stranger stared back. Porter sounded like a gambler trying to beat the house odds. Not going to happen. The house always won in the end. “What about Mother’s art?”
“Do you know how much the insurance is on those things? And don’t even get me started on the taxes and household expenditures.” His brother dragged his hands through his hair. “Mother’s spending doesn’t have an off switch.”
“Now that Dad’s gone, you’re responsible for keeping her solvent.” A task Alex did not envy him. “There’s no way Mother would accept my help.” Even with his savings and investments, he didn’t have enough to take care of himself, Ivy if he could convince her to marry him despite his family, and his mother’s extravagant spending habits. The Morgan trust fund should have been large enough to take care of her.
“You think I don’t know that?” Red surged into Porter’s face. “Why do you think I’m selling the paintings? She’ll never know the paintings are fake if no one tells her.”
“The rumors are already circulating in the art community, Port. Someone’s going to spill the beans.”
“As soon as I recoup the money, I’ll buy the paintings back.”
Ivy turned at that. “I doubt you’ll have the chance, Porter. Art patrons are obsessive about art. They want bragging rights, like your mother wanted. Chances are very high whoever bought the paintings won’t part with them.”
“Who asked you?” Porter snapped.
“Hey,” Alex said. “Right here, Port.” He waited until his brother swung around to face him again. “Your problem is with me, not her. You do not talk to Ivy that way, ever.”
Henry glanced over his shoulder. “Alex, these paintings are the originals. Obviously I can’t broker a deal for them since the owner hasn’t approved of the sale.”
“Fine.” Porter grabbed the paintings and slipped the protective covers over them. “I’ll find someone else to broker a deal. Henry’s not the only broker in the area.”
“Port, take the paintings back home.”
“Are you dense, Alexander? I need the money.”
“You’re already in enough trouble. Don’t add to it. By the end of the day, no art broker will touch anything you bring to them.”
“You would do that?” Astonishment rang in his voice. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
“Find another way. Tell Mother she’s on a budget right now while you wait for the lawyers to hash out the details of Dad’s will. Convince the creditors to wait for their money. You can’t resort to thievery anymore, Porter. Mother needs to hear about the other paintings from you. Waiting will only make the repercussions worse.”
Porter was silent a moment. “You might be right. I think I’ve waited long enough.” He turned to Henry. “You won’t be seeing me again and I guarantee no one in our social circle will use you again.” A cold smile. “You ought to have better friends, Henry. People like these can get you killed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“I’m sorry, angel.”
Ivy glanced at Alex as he guided the SUV toward Washington, D.C. “For what?”
“For getting you mixed up in Morgan family drama. I should have left you in Otter Creek instead of exposing you to all this ugliness.”
“Where I would
have been consumed with worry about you, wondering what was going on, if you were safe? No, thank you. I would have followed you here, Alex. My family’s no great prize, either.”
“Maybe not, sweetheart, but I should have protected you better.”
“That’s not how being part of a couple works, love. We both have baggage. We’ll deal with it. None of that will change what I feel for you.” Nothing ever would. Whether he knew it or not, Alex Morgan had her heart wrapped in chains so tight she had no hope of escape. Good thing she didn’t want to escape anyway. “Where are we headed now?” Ivy glanced at her watch. “It’s not time to head to Charlotte Abrams’ house and a little too early for lunch.”
Alex grinned. “Hungry all ready?”
Ivy’s cheeks heated.
“I promise to feed you after we talk to Anthony Wells. Elise seemed to think his head was buried in the sand, but you don’t become an analyst without being a good observer.”
“What do you think Porter is going to do about the paintings?”
“I hope exactly what I told him to do.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Word will go out to the art community by the end of the day. My brother won’t have the option of selling the paintings legitimately. His only recourse will be selling through the black market. That will take time to arrange, hopefully long enough for me to contact the family lawyer and find out what he knows, if anything. I left a message with Calvin Yates’ assistant for the lawyer to contact me. According to her, because the lawyer was in court this morning, I should expect a call this afternoon.”
“Will he be able to talk to you about this?”
“I don’t see why not. I might have been disowned, but I’m still James Morgan’s son. Unless my father left specific instructions otherwise, Yates should be able to tell me what’s in the will.”
Minutes later, they parked in front of a three-story brownstone. Neat and tidy were the first descriptors that came to Ivy’s mind. No flowers, a topiary on either side of the front door.
The research analyst answered their knock, cup of coffee in hand. He waved them inside. His sneakered feet made no sound as he led them to the clean kitchen. “Coffee’s fresh. You want some?”
