Black Out

by Lynn Raye Harris

  “I could tell you that, but I think we both know it’d be a lie.”

  “Dammit,” she growled. “I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. There’s something up with that Cardinal Group account. Charles found something wrong and now he’s gone. They know I’ve seen his work because I basically told them I had when I asked for more information. Crap on a cracker.”

  “Do you suppose you can let me have that spreadsheet now?”

  Somebody had just tried to break into her home. What were the chances it wasn’t related to Charles and the Cardinal Group? Zero, that’s what. Client confidentiality was definitely out the window.

  “Yes, but I want to be involved in the analysis. I want to know what’s in it that made Charles leave so abruptly. It’s like he just dropped off the face of the earth…” Another thought occurred to her then. A horrifying thought. Once her mind started down the path of something being wrong, it was hard to contain it. “Is he still alive? Do you think maybe—?”

  She couldn’t finish the thought. Colt ushered her over to a chair and sat her down in it. Then he knelt in front of her. His blue eyes were fierce. She saw protectiveness in that gaze. It was comforting.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. He’s not at home, and his passport’s missing. It looks like he packed in a hurry. We’re searching for him, though. There’s absolutely no indication he’s dead.”

  Angie started bouncing her legs up and down nervously. She folded her arms over her chest to ward off a chill. “You didn’t tell me that before.”

  “No. I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “You should have told me, Colt. I deserved to know. I’m in the middle of this.”

  “Okay, yes. You are. And I should have. But honey, listen.”

  She looked into Colt’s gaze. Those fierce, protective eyes. A small well of calm opened inside her.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to pack a bag and I’m going to take you to my place. I’ll get a team together to analyze the spreadsheet. They’ll come over and you can be involved in the analysis. We’ll keep searching for Charles, but I’m going to make sure you’re safe first.”

  Her heart throbbed. She wanted to go with him. She was also annoyed at him for keeping things from her. “I could stay with Maddy. You don’t have to—”

  “No, Angie. You have to stay with me. It’s my job to protect you. If someone comes looking for you at Maddy’s, they won’t care what happens to her. Jace will have his hands full with both of you to protect.”

  Guilt flared. “You’re right. I know you are. But don’t keep anything else from me, Colt. It’s not fair. It’s my life and I have a right to know.”

  “Yes, you do. I’m sorry. I was trying not to upset you.”

  “I’m already upset. I didn’t do anything wrong but I’m involved in this crap anyway.” She sighed in frustration. “But if it wasn’t me, it’d be someone else at work. And they don’t have the advantage of knowing you and Jace.”

  “That’s true. You’re the one who’s involved, and I’m here to help. Let’s do what we have to do to keep you safe so we can find out what’s going on.”

  Angie closed her eyes and dropped her chin. Frustration hammered at her, along with fear. Dammit, she wasn’t going to let fear rule her. Not like she had when she and Maddy were captives. She wasn’t going to cower in a corner and sob while someone else did the hard stuff.

  This time, she was rescuing herself. She opened her eyes and met Colt’s gaze. Her tummy flipped at the look in his eyes. Okay, so maybe she didn’t have to rescue herself when she had him in her corner. But she would do everything she could to help him.

  “All right, I’ll pack a bag. But you at least have to let me buy groceries if I’m staying with you. I can’t have you paying for everything.”

  “I didn’t pay for dinner tonight, did I?”

  “Only because I had to threaten you to let me get it this time, even though you’d promised.”

  He grinned. “What can I say? I’m a Frenchman at heart. Chivalry and all that.”

  “I’ll give you money for groceries if I’m going to be there for a while.”

  “You can do that if it makes you feel better.”

  Angie drew in a deep breath, feeling like she had a little bit of control over the situation. She knew she didn’t, but at least the illusion was there. “Thank you.” She got to her feet. “I’ll pack. How long do you think I’ll be away?”

  “Better plan for a week at minimum. I have a washer and dryer, so you can take that into account.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Need help with anything?” Colt asked as she moved toward the bedroom.

  “No, I’ve got it.”

  He took out his phone. “I’m going to make some calls. Let me know if you change your mind.”

  Chapter Eight

  It didn’t take Angie more than twenty minutes to pack some things and grab her computer. Colt drove the few miles to his place and waited for her to pull into the single-car garage so he could park in the driveway behind her. He’d wanted to leave her car at her building, but she’d insisted. He’d checked it for a tracking device. There was none.

  He knew she wanted her car so she didn’t feel trapped, but he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere in it. There’d be hell to pay when that conversation happened, but it was non-negotiable. He hoped it didn’t happen soon.

  He’d called Ian and told him what was going on. Ian was sending Tyler over to Angie’s place to position some cameras—one in the hall outside her door, and a couple inside. Ty didn’t have a key, but he didn’t need one to get the work done. If someone came back and tried to break in again, they’d know about it. And hopefully have a good visual.

  Angie pulled into the garage and got out of her car as Colt parked and shut off his engine. He grabbed her suitcase from the backseat of his Yukon and locked up before walking into the garage and over to the door that led into the kitchen.

  Angie joined him as he unlocked the door and disabled the alarm. It was a cheap system put in by the owner, which meant it didn’t have any teeth, but it would stand up to petty burglars. Professionals, however, were another matter.

  Colt flipped on the light switch and walked inside. Angie took in the 1960s kitchen decor and her jaw dropped. “Whoa.”

  “Groovy, right?”

  “The appliances are green.”

  “I believe it’s called avocado.”

  She blinked. “How do you know that?”

  “How do you think? Maddy.”

  “Oh, right.” Angie laughed. “Well, it’s certainly memorable.”

  “The whole house is caught up in the 1960s. I think it was built in ’64, so there you go. But the appliances work, the heating and cooling are good, and it’s close to everything.”

  “I’m surprised the owner hasn’t renovated and flipped. So many people are flipping houses in this neighborhood.”

  “It’s owned by three siblings who grew up in the house and inherited it after their dad died last year. They can’t agree on selling, so they rent it instead. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

  Colt led her through the small living room and down the central hallway. There were three bedrooms and two full baths, and he took her to the one with the full-sized bed that sported a frilly pink canopy and a My Little Pony comforter.

  “It’s not mine,” he said as her eyes widened. “The house came mostly furnished, and this was the room reserved for the granddaughters.”

  Angie laughed. “Thank goodness. I was starting to wonder if I’d discovered your main flaw—bad taste in decorating.”

  “I’d let you have the master, but I don’t fit in this bed. It’s too short. The third bedroom doesn’t have a bed, unfortunately.”

  Angie waved a hand. “No, I get it. It’s fine. And thank you. I appreciate everything.” She sucked in a breath. “This is not how I thought the night would end when you took me to dinner. I kind of thought I’d be in
bed by now, texting with you about tonight and reading a book before falling asleep.”

  “You can still do those things, Ang. The bath in the hall is yours. I have the master. There are clean towels and soap, toothpaste, everything you need. Feel free to think of this place as yours. You don’t have to ask me if you can use anything or eat anything. Just do it. We’ll sort out groceries and anything else later.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced at the bed again. “It’s very pink, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. Like Pepto Bismal.”

  She snickered. “That’s the shade. It’s very unflattering to a redhead.”

  He could only frown. “Nothing could make you look bad, Angie. You could be wearing a garbage bag and you’d still be gorgeous.”

  “Oh my,” she breathed before turning a much prettier shade of pink than the bed’s linens. “You do know how to say the right things.”

  “I only speak the truth, babe.”

  She pushed her hair over her shoulder and lifted her chin. She was still pink, but she was trying not to let it get to her. “Do you have any wine? I could use a glass. I’m a bit keyed up.”

  He could think of something else to release all that tension, but decided it wasn’t a good idea to mention it. “What kind of Frenchman doesn’t have wine? Of course I do.”

  She tilted her head. “It’s hard to think of you as French when you’re so blond.”

  “Really? What do Frenchmen look like?”

  She shrugged. “Like Kevin Kline in French Kiss?”

  Colt laughed. “I saw that movie. Kevin Kline isn’t French. The other two actors though, the cop and the thief—they’re French.”

  “And they both have dark hair. I rest my case.”

  He laughed again. “Come on, Ang. Let’s get some wine. And bring your laptop so I can see that spreadsheet.”

  Angie took a seat at the kitchen table with her laptop while Colt opened a bottle of red. He poured two glasses and handed her one while she pulled her laptop open and navigated to the spreadsheet.

  It was a little strange being here with him.

  Okay, it was a lot strange.

  And awkward. What was all that babbling about French men and blond hair anyway? Nerves.

  She took a deep breath. She was in his house—this timewarp house with the avocado appliances—drinking wine with him like she did it every day of her life.

  This after barely speaking to him for months and making him think she was a basket case with her hot and cold reactions to him.

  He didn’t seem to hold it against her though. If anything, he was amazingly understanding. Colt pulled out the chair beside her and sank down on it. He was close enough she could feel his heat, smell the warm, spicy scent of his deodorant. She liked being next to him.

  “To finding out the truth,” he said, lifting his glass.

  Angie clinked glasses with him and tried not to get jittery at his proximity. She took a sip of wine to cover her awkwardness. Cherry and raspberry burst onto her tastebuds, followed by jam and oak and tobacco. She forgot being awkward.

  “This is good. You really do know wine.”

  To think last night she’d had Chardonnay from a box.

  He pushed the chair back on two legs and grinned. “One of these days, when things are a little more settled, I’ll give you a crash course on wine tasting. You’ll be the envy of your friends at the next party.”

  “Or not,” she said with a laugh. “I think you overestimate the people I know. We drink grocery store wine, sometimes out of the biggest bottle it comes in—or, horrors, a box.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, there’s some fine wine in grocery stores. And boxes aren’t always bad.”

  “Not what I expected you’d say.”

  “Predictable is boring. Whatcha got there?” he asked, nodding at the screen.

  Angie turned the laptop so he could get a better look. “This is the spreadsheet in question. I don’t have the statements anymore because they’ve been deleted from the server, but trust me when I tell you this spreadsheet does not align with the information in the statements. It’s off by hundreds of thousands. Possibly more.”

  He scrolled through the tabs and columns. “The only reason you know this is wrong is because you had access to the statements, right? But without them, you have no proof of wrongdoing.”

  “Pretty much.” She took another sip of wine. “But if nothing’s wrong, who was the guy trying to break into my condo? Why bother with me at all if I can’t prove anything?”

  “They know you’ve seen it. That seems to be enough.”

  It made sense, but the whole thing seemed like a crazy Hollywood movie. “How do they know I haven’t shown it to everyone at BB&B by now?”

  “They don’t. But you’re the one who had access. You asked to clarify information so they know you saw something puzzling.”

  “Ugh, I should have been lazier on this one. I should have finished my own accounts first. But I just had to go and look, didn’t I?”

  “Too late to change it now. All we can do is deal with the consequences.”

  “If I could get my hands on Charles, I’d wring his neck. Assuming he’s still alive.” She hated adding that last part. She hadn’t wanted to go out with Charles Martinelli, thought he was a bit of a creep, but she wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

  “I can’t guarantee he is, but nothing indicates otherwise yet.”

  “Would you tell me if it did?”

  “Would you want me to?”

  Angie pulled in a breath. “I think so. Yes.”

  “Think. Or know?”

  She had to think about that for a second. But she knew the answer. She was done with letting others take control of her life or make decisions that affected her without her input.

  “I know I would. If Charles turns up floating in the Chesapeake, I want to know.”

  “Okay then. If it comes to that, I’ll tell you.”

  It struck her that he meant it. He wasn’t just saying it to make her feel better, or make her think he valued her choice. It was her choice and he would honor it.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “We finish our wine and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, my team will arrive to analyze this spreadsheet and war-game our options.”

  “War-game?”

  “Sorry. It’s a military thing. We run war-game scenarios.”

  “Got it. Were you in the military?”

  “Eight years in the Marine Corps.”

  It made sense. He carried himself like a military person. So did Jace, and she knew Jace had been in. She didn’t know which branch though.

  “Why did you leave?”

  She thought he tensed. Or maybe she imagined it.

  “I was on assignment in Iraq. I was the only one left alive in my squad after we got ambushed by militants. I decided that was my sign and it was time to go.”

  “Oh, Colt.”

  “It was a long time ago. I made it out. A lot of good men didn’t.”

  He’d lived through it and decided to work for Ian Black anyway. She didn’t understand his thought process, but she didn’t ask for more information. She felt like he’d shared more than he might have wanted to.

  “My team will also report on anything else they’ve discovered, provided it’s not classified,” he said, getting back to the topic of her spreadsheet and the situation at BB&B.

  Angie nodded. “Thank you. For everything. For helping me, believing in me, and involving me. I know we’ll discover the truth with you and Jace involved. And maybe we’ll find Charles and stop the Cardinal Group from committing fraud. Though why he didn’t report it to the authorities, I don’t know.”

  Colt looked thoughtful. “Maybe he couldn’t. Somebody must have known he’d found something or he wouldn’t have run the way he did. He probably didn’t have time to report anything.”

  She frowned. “Charles brought the Cardinal Group to the firm in the first
place. They were his clients. Maybe he knew the owners before. I never asked. But if he knew them personally and felt responsible, maybe he tried to talk to them about the problem before he reported it.”

  “Not a wise move then.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  Colt finished his wine. Angie followed suit. “Another glass?” he asked.

  She only hesitated a moment. “I’d love one.”

  He poured them both more wine. “Why don’t we sit on the couch and catch some news? Or maybe there’s something you’d like to watch?”

  She thought about it. She could actually picture herself curled up beside him on the couch, sipping wine and watching television.

  Why was she comfortable with him now? It wasn’t that long ago that being near him tied her up in knots, and now she felt like they were old friends. Oh, he still tied her up in knots, but they weren’t uncomfortable knots.

  Being with him was like putting on a comfy pair of sweats you couldn’t get rid of because nothing made you feel as relaxed as they did.

  He shot her a puzzled frown. “What’s making you grin like that, babe?”

  Angie tried to wipe the look from her face. She didn’t think she was successful. “Sorry. I was thinking about comfy clothes.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  She waved a hand. “Nah, it wouldn’t make sense. And watching the news is fine.”

  They headed to the living room. There was only the couch—not a terrible 1960s couch, thankfully—and they sat on opposite ends. Colt put his feet on the coffee table and turned on the television. Angie sipped her wine and watched the news, but her thoughts were on Colt.

  She watched him out of the corner of her eye, the way he handled the remote whenever he picked it up to mute commercials. The way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt when he lifted his glass and took a drink. The glide of his throat as he swallowed. She thought about him in a Marine uniform, his hair cut super short in a high-and-tight.

  Shock jolted her as she realized she was getting turned on by watching him. Her nipples tightened, and she grew wet. Her body started to ache.

  They’d shared exactly two kisses, and only one of those had been the kind of kiss that curled toes, but her body reacted like they were kissing right this minute. Excitement built inside her until she couldn’t stand another second. She put the wine glass down and shot to her feet.