by Stacy Finz
She dismounted, unsaddled, and groomed Rory as quickly as possible. Flynn could return anytime and she’d rather avoid being alone with him again.
She was on her way to the house when she bumped into Annie.
“Hey,” Annie said, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Welcome home. I’d hug you, but I’m disgusting right now.”
Gia smiled. No one could be sad around Annie. Today she had on a sun hat with the cord around her neck, men’s jeans cinched tight with a thick brown belt, a peasant top, high-top sneakers, and a smudge of dirt on the bridge of her nose.
“How’s the fence coming?”
“Good. It should be finished by tomorrow, and in go the seedlings.”
Gia prayed she’d be here to see them grow.
“You okay?” Annie tilted her head.
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind. I’ll be fine.” Gia peeked at her watch. “Dana’s coming so I’ve gotta run.”
“Go,” Annie said. “Take her to see the fence when she gets here. And Gia, Flynn will fix everything. You’ll see.”
Yep. Just not her heart, which was irreparably damaged. From her father, from Evan . . .
When she got up to the house there was a Ford Expedition parked in her driveway, not Dana’s Outback. For a second she feared reporters had gotten past the gate. Then she saw Dana sitting on the front porch.
“New car?” Gia asked as she approached the house.
“It’s Aidan’s. I showed a family homes this morning and the Expedition is roomier.” Dana got up and tilted her head. “How are you?”
“I survived the Big House.” She tried to make light of it but was humiliated. Forever indebted, though. She couldn’t believe the whole community had appeared in court on her behalf. “Thanks for coming to the bail hearing.” Gia’s eyes watered. “You can’t know what it meant to me.”
“You would’ve done the same. We stick together here in Nugget.”
It hadn’t felt that way when Gia proposed her residential program to the neighbors but they’d certainly rallied when she’d needed them most.
“I just have to take a quick shower and then we can do whatever wedding stuff you want,” she said.
“Change of plan, unless you’re not up for it.”
“What’s that?”
“A ladies’ lunch. It was Maddy and Emily’s idea. We’re supposed to meet them and the rest of the crew at the Lumber Baron.”
The last thing Gia wanted to do was socialize . . . not after Flynn. Not when her heart ached the way it did. But these good women had come to her defense. They’d driven three hours for a twenty-minute hearing just to stand up for her. It wouldn’t be right to turn them down for a simple lunch.
“Can we invite Annie?” she asked. “If she’s going to live here all summer she should get to know people.”
“Of course. You go shower and I’ll find Annie.”
“She’s in the guest apartment.”
Dana headed to the staircase next to the garage. Gia went inside, bathed off the horse sweat, and pulled a sundress over her head. It was quicker than picking out separates. She threw on a denim jacket and a pair of boots, grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter, and met Dana on the porch. If they left now she’d miss Flynn.
“Why didn’t you come inside?”
“Too nice a day.” Dana lifted her face to the sun. “Annie should be out any second. I’ll drive.”
“You sure? It’s out of your way to take us home.”
“Only a few minutes. Where’s Flynn?” Dana nudged her chin at his truck.
“Checking on his cattle before he goes to Sacramento.”
“He was amazing in court. I’ve always seen him as a cowboy . . . the boots, the hat, the pickup, the wide smile. But holy crap . . . lawyer Flynn is a force to be reckoned with.”
A fat tear streaked down Gia’s face. She tried to wipe it away before Dana noticed but too late.
“What’s wrong? Gia, why are you crying?” Dana rummaged through her purse, came up with a small package of tissues, and handed them to Gia. “Tell me why you’re upset . . . besides the obvious reasons.”
Yeah, she should’ve been crying over being charged with enough federal crimes to put her away for half a century. But that wasn’t it.
“I love him.” She started to cry, which seemed to have become a habit of late. The last time she’d felt this desolate was at her father’s funeral. She’d been Daddy’s little girl and he’d been her hero. And then he’d left her and her mother alone to face the world with nothing.
“He doesn’t love you?”
“You saw him at the hearing. I’m a jury verdict away from being a felon,” she said, sobbing. “How could he love me?” It was better that he didn’t. She held no future for him, not when her life hung in the balance. She’d bring him down just like Evan had done to her.
“To me he looked like a man who desperately wanted to get you out of jail. He was frantic, Gia. I don’t know him that well, but I have to think a bail hearing is pretty routine for an attorney like Flynn. He acted like it was life or death, which in my mind means he cares for you. A lot.”
“He thinks he owes me because we’ve been sleeping together.” She used Dana’s tissues to wipe her nose. “Former FBI agents don’t fall for America’s Most Wanted.”
“Evan’s the one who’s wanted, not you.”
“Yet I’ve been charged with a serious crime . . . fifty years in prison, Dana. You heard the judge.”
Annie came out of her apartment and took the stairway down. She beamed at them and waved.
“I don’t want her to see me like this . . . or know about Flynn,” Gia said, searching through her purse for a pair of sunglasses. “They’re close. Let’s get out of here before Flynn gets back.”
Dana and Gia climbed into the Expedition and Annie got in the backseat.
“Thanks for inviting me,” she said.
“We’re happy to have you join us.” Dana surreptitiously patted Gia’s leg, started the engine, drove to the gate, and punched in the code.
“Sorry, I should’ve brought my clicker.” It was on Gia’s car visor.
“No worries.” Dana craned her neck around to Annie. “You’ll love the Lumber Baron.”
Gia tried to pull herself together while Dana and Annie chatted. She didn’t want to fall apart in front everyone. Cool, calm, and collected is the way she liked to present herself, even in the face of crisis. Hell, she used to manage peoples’ fortunes. Trading, buying, and selling at the whim of a mercurial stock market. One wrong move and she could lose everything. She knew the consequences of that more than most. That was why she had a spine of steel.
Time to use it.
The drive seemed so much shorter than usual. Dana parked and they went inside the inn. The reservationist told them that everyone was in the kitchen. That area of the inn had been rehabbed after the arson fire. To Gia the kitchen looked just like it had before the blaze. Lots of white gleaming cabinets with glass doors, stainless-steel countertops, and state-of-the-art appliances. Copper pots hung above an enormous center island. Though it was an industrial kitchen, it felt homey.
Emily tossed a big salad and Donna put something in the oven. Maddy, Harlee, Darla, and Tawny sat at the island, drinking wine.
“Sam’s in San Francisco,” Maddy said. “She’s got a huge gala she’s planning and sends her regrets.”
“How was jail food?” Donna asked. “Did they make you eat the loaf?”
“Donna!” Emily cried.
For the first time since being arrested Gia laughed. Thanks to Donna they were getting her incarceration out of the way, instead of pretending it never happened. “What’s the loaf?”
“It’s a bunch of leftovers mushed together into a brick. Don’t worry; we’re making something delicious.”
It smelled delicious.
Maddy poured the three of them wine and motioned for them to join the rest of the ladies around the bar. They each grabbed stools whil
e Emily and Donna continued to prepare lunch. It looked like a variety of quiches and two different kinds of salad. Despite everything, Gia was hungry. She hadn’t had anything to eat since dinner at the Barlows’. This morning she’d wanted to get out of the house before Flynn woke up and had skipped breakfast.
Gia lifted her glass of white and toasted. “To all of you for coming to my defense. You don’t know how much that meant to me.”
“Of course we came,” Donna said. “You’re not guilty, right?”
Emily shook her head and glowered at Donna, but Gia knew everyone else was wondering the same thing.
“I’m not guilty. I only wish I could find Evan and rat him out.”
“I saw pictures of him on television.” Donna leaned against the counter. “Too good-looking for his own good. The man probably seduced you right out of your drawers.”
Good-looking? Next to Flynn he was anemic. Funny; at one time she’d thought Evan was one of the most handsome men she’d ever known.
“We know you’re not guilty,” Emily said and glared at Donna again. “Flynn will beat the charges. We didn’t invite you here to talk about that, though. Today is to celebrate your release and to talk about your proposal . . . the residential program.”
“You mean the school.” Maddy nodded at Gia, as if to say remember what we talked about. “We want to be part of it.”
“What do you mean, part of it?” Gia glanced at Annie, who raised her shoulders and arms in the classic I-don’t-know gesture.
“We’re all businesswomen and think we have something to add,” Maddy said. “I know the hospitality industry inside and out, Harlee owns her own newspaper, Darla knows everything about running a salon, Donna started the Bun Boy from scratch, Tawny sells her custom boots all over the world, Dana is the top-selling real estate agent in the county, and Emily is a famous cookbook author. We could give workshops.” She pointed at Emily and Donna. “And they could give cooking classes. With California’s cottage food law, some of these women could start baking or catering businesses from home. I could certainly hire a few to work in the Lumber Baron. We’re always looking for housekeepers and reservationists. If they do well Nate might be willing to find them a slot in one of his hotels.”
“I wouldn’t be where I am today if it hadn’t been for two boot-makers who took me under their wings and taught me everything I know,” Tawny said. “One of them even put me and Katie up in his home. I want to pay that forward.”
“Me too,” Annie chimed in. “I mean besides running the farm end of it. I have a degree in managerial economics, for goodness’ sake.”
“What we’re trying to say is that we’re a bunch of kick-ass ladies and we’d like to get involved.” Donna pulled out the quiches and put them on cooling racks. “First thing we’d like to do is help you raise money for this endeavor because it ain’t gonna be cheap.”
Gia looked around the room and her eyes welled up. Jeez, not again. “You guys have done a complete one-eighty.... What about Rhys and Clay?” As far as she knew, they hadn’t changed their minds about the project.
“No, we haven’t,” Emily said. “The women in this group have always been in favor of the project. As for Rhys and Clay, you leave them to us. We’ll put them on the board to select the candidates, make them feel important, and they’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Gia couldn’t believe she was getting this much support. She didn’t even know if she’d be around to see the project through.
Donna slid a plate of piping-hot quiche under her nose. “Then just eat.”
* * *
Flynn paced back and forth in his office, his phone clutched between his neck and ear, digesting everything Toad had uncovered.
“So she knows where he is, then?” Flynn couldn’t freaking believe it.
“No. But he wants his money and she’s got it. So how long do you think it’ll take before he turns up at her place?”
“Jesus.” Clearly Evan Laughlin wasn’t above murder. He’d kill her if he had to.
“What do we do?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Flynn said. “So all that money—billions—is in the Caymans? Who’s to say she won’t move it?”
“Nothing. But where? She’d have to either launder it or keep it under her pillow. That’s a lot of dough to have lying around your house.”
“Let me think about this for a while. In the meantime, you sit tight.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Toad said. “But don’t think too long. We don’t have the time.”
“I know.” Flynn got off the phone and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Shit! Toad had found more than Flynn had bargained for. His next call was to Rhys Shepard.
“Hey, it’s Flynn. I need you to do me a favor and sit on Gia for the next three hours, just until I can get there.”
“You gonna tell me why?” Rhys asked.
“Can’t.”
“Okay. I’ll assume it’s a public safety issue. She’s over at my wife’s inn right now. Sloane’s on duty. You want her to tail her home?”
“Yeah. And Rhys, I owe you one.”
Flynn hung up. To be in Nugget in three hours, he’d have to get a move on. He hadn’t been at his own place in so long he didn’t even remember what it looked like. That certainly was about to change.
“You leaving so soon?” Doris asked as he passed the reception desk.
“We got a break in the case and I’m heading to Nugget.”
“You don’t look happy about it.”
“It came as a surprise is all.” As many years as Flynn had on the job, nothing ought to come as a revelation anymore. But so much had ridden on this . . . his heart. Which Gia had managed to chew up and spit out. He should’ve known better than to get involved with her. “I’ll be in touch.”
“All right and good luck.”
Flynn took the stairs instead of the elevator, knowing it would be faster. Parked in front, he shoved his briefcase in the cab of the truck, hopped into the driver’s seat, and took off. It seemed like he was always coming and going during rush hour these days. But traffic wasn’t as bad as usual and he made good time out of the city.
Near Truckee his phone rang. He checked the caller ID and punched his hands-free.
“Toad, is something happening?”
“My new friend at the bank told me that about twenty minutes ago someone tried to transfer the money electronically, but the password had been changed.”
“Do we think it’s her or Laughlin?”
“She changed it, and my guess is that Laughlin tried to break the code. I’m trying to find out where he wanted the money transferred.”
Flynn’s pulse picked up. “Shit. We’ve gotta tell the feds.”
“Yeah, my gut tells me he’s getting pretty desperate. Me thinks the last time he got desperate someone wound up dead.” Cleo.
“I’ll call Tim, but you stay where you are. No one dies on my watch.”
“Roger that. Be careful, boss.”
“I always am.” He prayed Sloane was on the ball. Just one more hour and he’d be there.
On the drive he tried Tim, got voice mail, and left a message that he should call Flynn immediately. His next call was to the special agent in charge of the eastern district of California’s FBI office. Same thing. It was nearly six o’clock and Flynn figured everyone was either at dinner or happy hour.
He continued up the mountain, ignoring the speed limit. By the time Gia’s big gate came into view, he’d worked himself up into a lather. He pressed the clicker, pulled into the driveway, and got his Glock out of the glove box. Under his seat he found the magazine, popped it into the gun, and racked the slide. He stashed the pistol in the back of his waistband and covered it with his shirt.
Gia came flying out the door. “The Nugget police are here. Sloane won’t tell me why.”
“Let’s go inside.” Despite himself, Flynn put his hand at the small of her back.
Sloane stoo
d by the door. “You need me anymore?”
“We’re good,” he said. “Thanks. I appreciate you coming out here.”
Sloane left and Flynn locked the door and checked the windows.
Gia trailed him. “What’s going on, Flynn?”
“Take a seat in the living room. I’ll be right there.”
He got them both glasses of water from the kitchen tap, met her in the other room, set the drinks down on the coffee table, and pulled up one of the club chairs.
“That lead I told you about . . . we know where the money is, Gia.”
“You do? Where?”
“The Caymans,” he said. “Laughlin’s already tried to transfer it from the account. But he couldn’t crack the password.”
“Wouldn’t he know the password?” she asked, confused. “Are you trying to tell me it’s someone else’s account?”
“The account is Cleo’s. He’s dead so it’s the Widow Cleo’s.”
“Cleo?” She reached for the glass he’d brought and took a gulp of water.
Flynn couldn’t help but notice her long, graceful neck. He still didn’t understand why she’d dumped him the way she had. Granted they’d never officially called what they had a relationship, but he’d assumed that actions spoke louder than words. Not only had he slept with a client—something he never did—but he’d brought her home to his family. He couldn’t talk to her about it because of their professional relationship; it might seem as if he was pressuring her. So here he sat completely clueless about what he’d done wrong, if anything. For all he knew, it had been a game to her. Or they’d gotten too hot for her to handle.
I don’t want to share a bank account with another person. I don’t want to make financial decisions by committee. And I don’t want to be dependent on someone else.
Flynn pulled himself back to the here and now. “I no longer think he was a hapless victim about to blow the whistle. It’s looking like he was in on it and that’s why Evan killed him. Of course we don’t know for sure. Unfortunately, Cleo’s wife swears she knows nothing about her husband’s role in the scheme or Laughlin’s whereabouts. They were separated at the time of the scam, with a divorce pending. After his death his lawyers turned over all his assets to her. That’s when she discovered the account in the Caymans.”
