by Sheila Kell
Tossing her head back, her hair sliding off her shoulders, she laughed. “Let? Like I allow him to dictate to me.” Dropping her head to the side, she focused on him and smiled. He loved how it brightened her face. “When are you coming home?”
Home. He really didn’t have a home any longer. Hadn’t since his parents died. Roger McKenzie was his dad. The man had raised him. He didn’t need a replacement father. Nor instant brothers. He blew out a breath. He wanted to joke with her—have fun like they used to do, but he couldn’t do that with this conversation. “I don’t know that I am.” Sorry, Jamie. Maybe one day I’ll make good on my promise, but not today.
“Look,” she said in all seriousness, “this is between you and Blake. Don’t hold your brothers responsible for this. You’ve been a part of this family all your life.”
“And we now know why,” he bit out more harshly than she deserved. Good old fucking Senator Blake Hamilton kept him as his dirty little secret. Wondering how Blake actually kept it quiet all these years with opponents trying to unseat him in the senate always digging up dirt, he almost missed her next words.
“Make peace, or not, with your father, but don’t cut out the only friends you’ve had.”
Knowing his brothers—there, he’d said it—weren’t responsible, didn’t make it any easier to act like nothing had changed, except their title went from friend to family.
Water slipped toward them as the tide moved in and waves slid inland. Maybe he should’ve taken off his shoes instead of his shirt. Stupid thing to think about considering the conversation, but now that he had company, he’d certainly feel more comfortable that way. “I’ll think about it.”
“There’s something else. It’s the main reason I wanted to be the one to speak with you.”
Curious, he appraised her and raised a brow. “Go on.” His gut turned in warning that this could get interesting.
“It’s Kelly.”
Instantly his blood turned to ice, and his entire focus became this conversation. “Kelly?” he questioned with a croak in his voice and his heart pounding.
Nodding solemnly, she continued, “Something’s going on with her. I don’t know what it is, and she won’t open up.”
Blood pressure rising rapidly, he took those damn soothing breaths Jamie told him to take as sweat broke out on his brow. “What kind of trouble? Is she safe?” he rushed out in one breath, wanting all the information yesterday so he could act.
“Honestly, I don’t know that it’s any trouble at all, Trent, but something has her spooked.”
“I’ll leave in the morning and drive straight through.” Kelly, baby, stay safe until I get to you.
Shocked, she sucked in a breath. “Trent, that’s sixteen and a half hours.”
Shrugging, he was already calculating everything he had to do before he left. That long drive was nothing for Kelly’s sake. Hell, if he didn’t need transportation when he got back to Baltimore, he’d just hop a flight and store his bike. “I can make good time on the bike. Besides, it’s Kelly.”
A knowing smile spread across Megan’s face.
Let her think what she wanted. Kelly was special to him. Precious. And, not to be touched. He respected her too much. That didn’t mean his dick didn’t think differently whenever he was around her. But what was important now was making sure she was safe.
“Tell me more,” he insisted, as the need to be by Kelly’s side simmered in his veins.
Well, Jamie, you got your wish. I’m going to face them. At least my brothers.
MEN’S CLOTHING WAS launched into the air and onto the bed as a tall man bent on devious ambition pulled them from a large, black suitcase. Finding Sam Gibson had been luck and a godsend. A young kid had tried to pick his pockets, but he’d caught the kid. Christ, the little thief had been about ten years old. Seeing an opportunity, he’d had the kid take him to the boy’s leader, Sam. Unsure in the beginning, Sam hadn’t wanted to work with him. Mistrust and all that.
Hiring someone to lift something of Brian Platt’s, he’d found himself immediately called boss. In the network of thieves Sam ran, they found one to steal the paperwork from Brian’s hotel room. Unfortunately, he’d been caught by the hotel staff before he could abscond with the information.
Then Brian had been killed before the items could be acquired. That had been a misunderstanding of monumental proportions. Lift, then kill had been the directive.
“It’s only fucking clothes!” he roared at Sam. His eyes zoomed around the hotel room with its Mediterranean flair, in search of what he wanted. A wave of irritation grew inside him knowing what he wanted wasn’t there. “Where’s the fucking messenger bag?”
“That was all there was in her car, boss.” The slight nervousness in Sam Gibson’s voice surprised him as the thief master had always shown himself to be a confident man. “That’s where she supposedly left everything after the police released it to her.”
Turning his focus on Sam, he frowned at the criminal. Maybe he’d misjudged his ability to do this simple job. Discomfort radiated from the thief master’s thin frame with a large, gold cross hanging from his neck. Sam’s dark hair could definitely use a cut to sharpen the criminal’s appearance. “What about her house? Have you tried there?” This man couldn’t be that much of an idiot. How hard was it to search for something when you were supposedly one of the best thieves Baltimore had to offer? “I want those papers. She’s had them for far too long. I’d say it’s too late—that everyone knew—but nothing seems to be happening on the property, and something would happen if anyone had read the information Brian had collected.” Then he’d never get his hands on that land. That expansive plot in Reed Point, Montana that would make him wealthier than he ever imagined possible, all because he knew the truth about it.
This trip to Baltimore had been spur of the moment, but necessary once he’d found out the current Montana landowner Mike Platt, Brian’s father, was clueless about the findings, heck even about what Brian had done. He needed the elder Platt to remain ignorant, and that meant getting his hands on the paperwork Brian had in his possession before he’d died.
The man had had the perfect chance when he’d found out Brian had flown to Baltimore not so long ago, not only to pick up his bride-to-be for their wedding, but he’d collected the results of the survey personally. Hiring a Baltimore firm to do the work had seemed odd, but since Brian had been in the city quite a bit to visit the woman he was to marry, it made a bit of sense. Albeit inconvenient to him.
For the time being, he had to focus on getting those surveys and reports before anyone was any wiser. If Mike found out, he might put the property up for sale, and the price would be too high.
I have to control that property.
Almost forgotten, Sam shifted his stance. “Why did you wait so long to call me again? I mean, the man died weeks ago,” Sam said.
Livid that he’d been questioned, he mentally restrained himself. Although he didn’t have to explain himself to Sam, he knew he still needed the man and found himself speaking anyway. “I thought they’d sent Brian’s personal effects back to his family, and it was too late. When his father didn’t act, I knew something wasn’t right. A little bribe at the police station told me they’d released his possessions to his fiancée, Kelly Williams, right after the accident.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Now that Brian is dead, shouldn’t it be easier to get your hands on the land? Wasn’t that the problem that the old man wanted Brian to have it?”
Feeling the need to punch something over the injustice of it all, the boss clenched his fists, but shoved them into his jeans’ front pockets instead. “No. The old man is holding out for the kid now. He wants it to go to Brian’s brat.” Sighing, he released his grip on his palms, figuring there were crescents in the skin from his fingernails. “Believe me, I talked to him until I was almost blue in the face. He’s set on this.”
“You talked to him about this after Brian died?”
He drew
down his brow and pulled memories from his mind—the conversation about the property with Mike. It was hopeless, unless he acted—maliciously. And, he needed Sam on his side. “I had to find out if he knew about the survey and what he planned to do. You’d think he’d do the honorable thing and at least include his other son. But, no, he’s still hung up on Brian,” he spat. His distaste wasn’t at Brian—he’d liked him—it was at the idea of waiting for a child not even born to inherit.
“I thought the old man was sick. Can he even last that long?” Sam queried.
“He’s sick, but that old buzzard isn’t going to die anytime soon. He’s tough as nails. Plus, the idea of a grandchild seems to have put a second life into him.”
“Hmph,” the thief master said.
“Hmph is right.” Pulling his right hand from his pocket, he rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “This was supposed to be simple, get rid of Brian, so the old man had to change his will. Now, there’s a fucking child to contend with,” he mumbled to himself. Why the hell couldn’t things work out for him the way he wanted without him resorting to something vicious?
“Can’t you just get rid of Mike?”
Pissed he’d allowed himself to speak loud enough to be overheard when he’d just been thinking out loud, he narrowed his eyes at Sam, as if it had been his fault. Things were becoming clearer to him, and it wasn’t necessarily pleasant. “I must get rid of all those who are in the will before Mike dies or all is lost as that child will inherit. Then who knows what the fiancée will do with the land.”
“I’ll get the paperwork, don’t you worry. I’ll do it personally,” Sam said with a confident nod.
He shook his head and considered his only option. “She might have read it and is just biding her time until her child inherits. I can’t chance it.”
Sam cocked his head. “What are you saying?”
Straightening to his full height, he set his shoulders back in determination. Decision made, he issued his directive, “I’ll be lying low for a while. Take care of the woman and find that paperwork before Mike sees it and gets other ideas. Get whatever she’s working on now, too. She’s messing in other business of mine, but doesn’t know it yet.”
“I don’t kill women, boss.”
“Then find someone who will—like you did with Brian.”
A WEEK HAD passed since Kelly had spoken with Adrian at the prison. A week to replace all that had been in her purse. A week with so much to think about. A week to decide what to do with the information she’d received.
The thought of Brian brought moisture to her eyes, but she forced back the tears. Her heart ached from missing him. Despite the truth of her love being locked away from him, he’d been one of her best friends, more than that, he was the father of their unborn child. A small part of her heart was glad she hadn’t corrected his belief that she loved him that deeply while he was alive. Knowing that you were loved while you died had to be better than the alternative.
Her mind still reeled that Brian’s death might have been murder. It flooded her body with anger, a need to know the truth and so many more other fleeting emotions, that at times she worried over her emotional well-being. Allowing her mind to believe—without evidence—that it hadn’t been an accident went against her normal journalistic instinct. Yet, after the suitcase had been stolen, she couldn’t let it go. Her mind became invigorated with searching for the truth. There had to be something there.
Focusing her gaze on the road she was driving on, her mind continued to turn everything over. Her brain just wouldn’t freakin’ stop working. As for the vandalism to her car, Paul had been just as livid as she’d been once her mind processed it. The security footage had caught a dark sedan, but there hadn’t been any license plates. It had also captured a person—presumably a man by the size—jumping from the passenger seat and quickly busting the lock, grabbing her purse and the luggage and stowing it in the back seat of their vehicle, before resuming his seat and them driving away. Both the passenger and the driver had their heads and most of their faces covered. Winter weather was a bitch for identification. But what had increased Paul’s ire was that the guard who was supposed to be watching all the cameras had been sleeping. Paul caught him red-handed.
With a pounding heart and nerves jumping up a firestorm, she’d taken Adrian’s words that Brian’s death hadn’t been an accident to the police officers who’d handled Brian’s case, but got nothing. After requesting a complete copy of the accident file, she’d received narrowed eyes from the two officers, but they’d sent her through the proper channels, and she had what was a thin report of the hit and run that took Brian’s life. They’d written it off almost as soon as it had occurred.
Unfortunately, she’d understood why they’d come to that conclusion after she’d questioned what witnesses would respond and found nothing that helped decide it was intentional or who the driver happened to be. By all accounts, the man just sped out of a curbside parking space, which isn’t unusual for that area. So, she was back to square one with nothing to point her in any direction whether it be accident or intentional. The result could be however she decided to trick her mind into thinking.
She had no other option but to put the two incidents—Brian’s death and his suitcase theft—down as coincidence. There was nothing to tell her otherwise. It was possible for someone to be in the wrong place at the wrong time more than once. Not likely, but possible. She’d been with Brian, then she’d been at the prison.
With no leads, she had to let it go or else she’d turn into a physical mass of knots of despair and woe. She choked back a sob that threatened to send her into an emotional upheaval.
Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to what she could do something about. Oh, she’d never forget Brian’s accident; she just had to wait until she figured out what she could do.
For the time being, she’d promised Adrian—since he’d told her about Brian—that she’d try to find something to help clear him. It was quite possible something existed, but he really should’ve hired a private investigator as she had other stories to follow also. A job to do.
A driver cut her off, and she slapped on the brakes and swore like a sailor on shore leave. It’s not like my yellow car doesn’t stand out, asshole. She knew she’d have to do better curbing her language when the baby arrived. There was too much to do before then, such as help Adrian.
Like a good little reporter, she’d taken the results of the meetings to her editor, Kristen, but had received a mixed response. Her boss had hoped for more from the man—something solid—not the word of a convict who admitted to murdering the person they were quoting. So had she, but they both knew that wasn’t always the case in investigative journalism. Otherwise, there’d be almost nothing to actually investigate.
Releasing Kelly to chase after Adrian’s innocence wasn’t in her boss’s plans, so she’d nixed the potential story. They wouldn’t publish Jason’s confession, and they wouldn’t try to chase anything that would prove Adrian had been set up for his crimes.
Kelly, on the other hand, had that tickling in her tummy—different from the baby feelings—that told her something was there and that she owed the man. Adrian had been very convincing in his assurance of innocence. Finally meeting him and believing herself to be a good judge of character, she wanted to help the man.
Maybe he’d learn who the driver of the car that hit Brian was. He said he’d try to find out, but seemed hopeful. But, she’d keep that on the back burner and not allow him to forget.
With blood pumping through her veins faster than normal, Kelly couldn’t wait to get her teeth into the story. How great it would be to find the evidence when the police thumbed their nose at the confession. To free an innocent man. A man even she’d thought guilty. Yes. She planned to squeeze in the investigation between her current assignments, and when she had something, her boss would let her run with it, officially.
Adrian had provided her with three people who might want t
o see him in jail or financially bankrupt or both. Maybe none had anything to do with it, but it couldn’t hurt to poke around and see what she could find out.
One important thing she wanted to do first was review the court transcripts. Since it had been a lengthy trial, reviewing them would take a while, but it was a start. Remembering back to the one day she’d sat in court, she knew to expect a show, even on paper, from the ADA who’d been out to make a name for himself so he could climb that proverbial ladder to DA.
She pulled into the parking lot and stepped into the cold. Dressed again for warmth, Kelly smiled at the security guard at the courthouse as she entered. A smile formed on his face in response even though he continued giving a woman directions.
At the records department, she strolled to a desk and set down a to-go cup of chocolate mocha beside a keyboard. The middle-aged Hispanic woman at the desk looked up at her and a grin broke out on her face. “Is that what I think it is?” Excitement lit her features.
Kelly slid a chair from an empty desk, sat beside her and nodded. “Of course, Esme. Only the best for you.”
Meeting the woman by chance at a friend’s party had been a blessing. Finding someone at the courthouse who would aid a reporter wasn’t easy, unless it was from an employee whose information wasn’t always biased. But, Trent McKenzie had been at that same party and introduced the two women.
A soft sigh slipped from her lips. There he was again, in her thoughts.
At first, she’d been jealous thinking Esme had been one of his women—ones he loved and left—but she’d discovered Esme was a happily married woman who’d met Trent when he’d been in the FBI.
Esmerelda, who preferred to be called Esme, narrowed her hazel eyes behind bright blue-framed eyeglasses. As she spoke, she casually slipped a few strands of dark hair behind her right ear. “What do you want?”
“Just a small favor.” Waving her hand, to insinuate that it was nothing important, Kelly smiled. “Aren’t you going to try it while it’s hot?”
