“Who knew?” Rafe asked.
“Me, Matt, Jack and Robert Lewis,” Zane said, naming his co-CEO and another top-level employee, as well as LynTech’s founder. “Robert had done business with Andress before he stepped down, and he had some good input. In fact, he was the one who pointed out the flaws in the idea.”
“Then this won’t hurt you?”
“Not now. Not this time.” Zane raked his fingers through his sandy hair. “But the next time...” He shrugged. “Business is rough right now, and this only makes it rougher.”
“If only the people you listed knew about it, that makes the leak unlikely to have come from the top.”
Zane frowned. “There were a few others.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Lawrence in Legal. He did some background work on the idea before we decided to tank it.”
That pricked Rafe’s interest. “Did he do the work himself?”
“I don’t know. I’d assume that he’d delegate with discretion.”
“Can you find out who he used?”
“Sure. Any ideas?”
“No.” Rafe wouldn’t tell him about the knot that had formed in his middle at the mention of Legal. Megan. He’d swear she was clean, but he’d learned to never rule out anyone in an investigation. “Nothing solid, not yet, but I’ll work on it. Meanwhile, I’ve got a problem you can help with.”
“Are the boys okay?”
“Oh, they’re fine. They love the center and they seem fine with the name change to Diaz. But Mrs. Garner says she has to have an emergency contact in case something happens to the boys and I can’t be reached.”
Zane frowned. “What about Carmella? She’s available.”
“She’s not really. She’s visiting with her sister while we’re down here, doing it around her work with the boys.”
“What about your sister?”
“Aubrey is off playing detective.”
“Isn’t she an archeologist?”
Rafe shrugged. “The same thing. Dust, bones, excavations, off in the wilds of South America. She’s not available. And my mother’s in Boston with her sister’s family for the month.”
“I’ll think on it,” he said. “Meanwhile, you’re here, and if anything happens, which I doubt it will, you’re close. If she asks again, tell her you’re getting the information.”
“Okay,” Rafe said. “I’ll check into the staff in Legal.”
“Speaking of Legal, that woman you found in Mr. Lawrence’s office, the one who you thought was trying to crash the ball?”
He hadn’t expected Megan to come up in this conversation. “What about her?”
“Megan Gallagher, right? Tall, blonde, smart, pretty?”
“That about sums her up,” he said.
“Lindsey called her at the loft about the cat, Joey? Seems that she thought the name sounded familiar, and after she got off the phone, she remembered. Megan Gallagher is the kid sister of Quint Gallagher, our consultant, so you don’t need to do any checking on her. She’s trustworthy.”
He’d already done his checking, telling himself he was doing it for security reasons, to put any questions about her to rest. He’d found out she was an attorney from San Francisco, that she was here for a month for evaluation and that she was engaged to Ryan Baron, the son of one of the biggest importer-exporters in the country. Money and more money. But no one had told Rafe about her connection to Quint Gallagher. “Thanks for the information.”
“Sure,” Zane said. “Now, I have to get upstairs. They’re waiting for me. Just let me know what you dig up.”
“Of course,” he promised.
He let Zane leave first, waiting a few minutes before he followed. He finally went back toward the lobby, but only as far as the stairs. He was headed upstairs, to have a talk with Wayne Lawrence.
* * *
MEGAN STOOD IN THE CENTER of the day care facility and felt as if she’d been abandoned on an island that had been taken over by little people. Children were everywhere, in groups and alone, playing, singing, watching TV, painting and crying—in no particular order. One boy, a beautiful child, had his face puckered up in misery, and was screaming at the top of his lungs. A teenage girl dressed all in black was trying futilely to calm him down.
“Walker, it’s okay. Mommy’s at the doctor’s and you are here to have a good time,” the girl said as she tried to interest him in a train that had been set up around a strange-looking play tree in the middle of the room. He let out another scream and hit the train, sending it off its tracks.
Megan had turned away from the piercing confusion, ready to leave and come back later, when she saw an older woman hurrying into the center from the front entrance. She was in her sixties, pleasant-looking and dressed in a simple navy dress and white running shoes. She saw Megan, started to smile, then moved faster and called out, “Oh, no!”
Megan didn’t know what the woman was yelling about, not until she was blindsided, toppling to her left on the carpet, where she found herself on her back, staring up at a limb of that improbable tree. Pushing herself to a sitting position, she found herself face-to-face with a little boy. His dark brown eyes were wide, his cap of black hair marred by a streak of blue running through it—the same color that stained his beige overalls and white T-shirt.
“Gabriel!” the woman was saying as she reached the child and crouched in front of him, touching his face gently. “Sweetie, you’re okay, aren’t you?”
Megan pushed herself to her feet while the lady fussed over the little boy, and felt something crack under her shoe. She looked down and saw the earpiece to her phone on the floor. The tiny microphone had snapped right off of the clip. “Rats,” she muttered as she stooped to retrieve it and her cell phone.
“Uh-oh, bad word.”
She straightened and looked down at the little boy, who was pointing at her accusingly. “That’s bad.”
She wasn’t going to be reprimanded by some kid who was the equal to that beast of a cat at the loft. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d fallen, and since she’d been here, she’d taken two tumbles. “No, this is bad,” she said, holding up the broken earpiece. “Very bad.”
Had she really expected to debate with the child, who couldn’t be more than five years old? She certainly hadn’t expected him to throw himself facedown on the carpet and start to sob with abject misery.
She hadn’t meant to make that happen, but didn’t know what to do about it once it had. So she crouched to reach for her briefcase, knocked from her hand in the kerfuffle, and that’s when she saw her thigh. One tiny handprint stained the linen with the same bright blue that was smeared all over the crying child. Her nerves had been fraying ever since she’d entered this chaos, and this was the last straw. “Look what he did!”
The older lady stood and turned to Megan, frowning at the stain. “I’m so sorry, but I’m sure Gabriel didn’t mean to do anything.”
“So am I, but my slacks are ruined,” Megan muttered, afraid to touch the stain in case that only made it worse. “Absolutely ruined.”
She suddenly realized the room was silent, and her words were echoing through it. Mary frowned, and the boy even stopped crying for a moment to stare up at her, his eyes damp with tears. “I’m so sorry,” the lady repeated.
Megan made another grab for her briefcase, then straightened. She didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t hang her further with the group that was staring at her.
“Gabriel’s new here and he’s excited. I’m sure he’s very sorry for what he did, too.” She looked back at the boy. “Aren’t you, Gabe?”
He looked at Mary, back to Megan, then started to cry again, huge, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. If she hadn’t been the one he’d hit, she would have been furious at anyone who made him cry like that. Just w
hen she was on the verge of trying to make him stop crying, he fell dramatically to the floor once again and started to sob as if his heart would break.
Another little boy ran over, and Megan blinked when she saw him. He was the spitting image of the first boy, but without the blue accents. Identical twins. He was just as dramatic, falling across his brother’s back as if shielding him from some unimaginable horror. He whispered something to his brother, then twisted to look up at Megan. Absolutely identical, down to and including those huge dark eyes shooting daggers at her.
The woman patted the second boy on the back, calling him Greg, then a teenage girl hurried over and dropped down by the boys. She gathered them both into her lap, hugging them to her, then she gave Megan a dirty look as she murmured, “It’s okay, buddies.”
Greg squirmed in the girl’s hold and frowned up at Megan again. “You’re not nice, lady,” he said in a clear, childish voice. The pronouncement carried the same weight as if an adult had called her a jerk. It stung, and only made her more confused, intensifying the feeling she had of being totally out of place.
The woman was at her side now. “Come with me, and we’ll take care of your pants,” she said.
Megan stared at the children holding on to the teenager, who was rocking them slowly. Gabe was still crying, but Greg just glared. She’d been knocked to the floor. Her earpiece was broken. Her slacks were probably ruined. But for some reason, she was coming out of this disaster as the bad guy, and the fact was she felt like that. Stupid, she thought, and turned to follow the woman beyond the tree, down a short hallway, then into an office on the right.
Ever since spotting Rafe that morning, Megan had felt edgy, and now two children had made her nerves raw. She went into the office with the woman, who thankfully closed the door on the noise in the other room. Megan looked around the small space, at boxes and files piled against the walls, with a playpen wedged in between. Bookshelves filled the higher walls, and a desk, positioned to face the door, was loaded with paperwork.
Mary motioned to what looked like a pink lawn chair that faced the desk. “Sit and let’s take a look at the damage.”
Megan put her briefcase on the floor by the pink chair, then sat in it. She still had the remnants of her earpiece in her other hand. “I’m sorry for being so—”
“No, no, forget it,” the woman said, then looked up at her with a soft smile. “I’m Mary Garner, by the way. And you must be from Legal?”
“Yes, Megan Gallagher,” she said.
“Nice to meet you.” Mary looked down at the stain. “I would have preferred a more pleasant greeting, but with kids, you don’t have much control over what happens.”
Megan knew she needed to apologize, even if it was only for the way she’d spoken out there. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt with the boy.”
“And he didn’t mean anything by it,” Mary murmured, then straightened. “He did a bang-up job of ruining your slacks, though.” She started for the door. “I think that’s just chalk,” she said over her shoulder. “It should come off.” Mary left, closing the door behind, and Megan thought she said, “Let me get a brush and I’ll give it a try,” but she couldn’t be sure.
She sank back in the chair, staring at the stain. If she returned to the loft to change, she could be back at work in an hour. Or maybe she should just find a store nearby and buy a new pair of slacks. She couldn’t work in these. The door clicked open and Mary was back with a brush in one hand and a white terry cloth rag in the other.
She left the door open, letting the chaotic noise into the small room, and it played across Megan’s frayed nerves.
“Now,” she said. “We’ll fix this up right away.”
Megan stood quickly, making sure Mary didn’t get within touching range. “No, please, I’ll take care of it.”
The woman hesitated, brush at the ready. “I’m sure we can get—”
“No, no,” Megan said quickly. “I’ll take them to the dry cleaners. I don’t want to take any chances of permanently ruining them.”
Mary held the brush up, but didn’t come any closer. “You don’t have children, do you?”
That question came out of the blue. “No.” Was it that obvious?
“You’re an only child?”
“No, I have a brother...an older brother.”
Mary nodded as if that explained everything. “Oh, I see.”
Megan had no idea just what she thought she saw, because she kept speaking as she went around the desk to sit in the chair and drop the brush and rag by the phone. “Since you’re here, maybe we can get a bit of business done before you go to the dry cleaners. If that’s okay with you?”
Megan would have gladly sat down and answered any questions Mary had about the legal proceedings, but she never got the chance. Before she could, Greg, the second twin, came barreling into the room, saw her and ran at her full tilt.
She put out her hands to ward him off, her earpiece falling to the floor once more. “Oh, no, you don’t!”
The little tornado was stopped in his tracks when someone came in behind him and snatched him up off the floor. It was Rafe! He’d come out of nowhere to rescue her from the kid he was holding in one arm, while the little boy squirmed to get free and wreak more havoc.
Megan met Rafe’s gaze, shocked that he seemed on the verge of smiling. “Don’t let him go,” she said quickly.
“I won’t,” he promised. “Now, tell me what’s going on.” He paid no attention whatsoever to the little boy, who had twisted around in his hold and was pressing both hands against his chest to try and escape.
“That...child’s brother,” she said, bending over to pick up the ruined device again. “He knocked me over, broke my earpiece and smeared blue stuff on my slacks.”
She met Rafe’s gaze again, and he seemed sober now. “Should I lock him up in jail?” he asked, and his words not only stopped her, but the boy became ominously still, staring up at him.
“What?” she gasped.
He smiled then, an easy, teasing smile that showed a single dimple at the corner of his mouth. “Or I could chain him to a chair for the day, just give him bread and water?”
“Nuh-uh!” the boy said with a quick shake of his head.
“Just kidding, buddy boy,” Rafe said to the child, then whispered in his ear. It reminded Megan of the way Greg had whispered in Gabe’s ear before giving her that dirty look and telling her she was bad. The boy turned to Megan and that look came again, what her father used to call the “stink eye.” It fit. Rafe moved to let him down and Megan braced herself in case he came at her again, but he simply ran out of the room.
Rafe was still there, a teasing glint in his dark eyes that all but made her squirm. “This isn’t funny,” she said. “And you scared him. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I thought you wanted revenge.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous. His brother started it.” She opened her hand and showed him the fractured earpiece. “It’s ruined,” she said.
He glanced at it, then back to her. “He hit you that hard that it broke in two?”
“No, I stepped on it, but...” She bit her lip. “Then he got this all over my clothes.” She motioned to the blue stain. “He knocked me over completely.”
Rafe came closer, breaching the safe distance between them. “Are you injured?” he finally asked.
She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “No.”
“Any bruises, cuts, scrapes?”
“No, but—”
Rafe abruptly reached for the brush. Moving as fast as the boy had, he hunkered down in front of her and started brushing at the blue on her slacks.
“No, don’t!” she gasped, but he didn’t stop, and she found herself standing there, frozen, staring down at the top of his guard cap, relishing the sensation as
he methodically brushed at her thigh.
CHAPTER SIX
MEGAN FELT FIRE in her face and closed her eyes tightly while Rafe Diaz brushed at her thigh. When she opened them again, Mary was standing behind him, watching the two of them. She gazed at Rafe intently, then looked up at Megan, and out of the blue gave her a wink.
A wink? Megan looked back at Rafe, at the top of his guard cap, but all she was really aware of was how close he was to her again.
“Good, good, good,” Mary murmured when Rafe finally stood.
He faced Megan with just inches separating them. “Gone,” he said. “Out, out, damned spot.” She must have looked vacant or something, because he said, “Shakespeare.”
“I know Shakespeare,” she murmured, and looked down at her slacks. She’d definitely lost her dignity, but she’d also lost the spot. The blue was gone. She couldn’t believe it, and bent over to take a closer look. Rafe leaned forward at the same time, and her head hit his and she saw stars. People really see stars, she thought, as she moved back with a gasp and stumbled against the chair.
Rafe caught her by her shoulders to keep her on her feet. “Oh, my!” she gasped, touching her forehead gingerly with her fingertips as she closed her eyes tightly.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and she felt the heat of his breath brush her face. She trembled. “Are you okay?”
She opened her eyes, and he was so close his features were blurry. Too close. Much too close. “Yes, I’m okay,” she managed to answer, and sank back into the chair behind her.
The instant she sat down, she knew it was a mistake. All it did was make him seem overwhelming as he stood above her. He frowned and bent down, grabbing his hat from the floor, then crouched in front of her, hat in hand. “You’re going to have a nasty knot there, maybe a bruise,” he said, gesturing to her forehead.
“Great,” she muttered. “What else can happen today?”
That made him smile, and she saw the dimple come back, enticingly close to lips that held a soft upward curve. “Don’t even ask,” he murmured. “Just be careful.”
Undercover Father Page 8
