Vanished Final 7.2019: An ALIAS, Enemies to Lovers Romantic Suspense

by Lisa Hughey

  “But she was using the alias Beatrice Winter.”

  Jill’s heart rate picked up. But there was no way this woman was wanted. No way. Their background investigation process was flawless. She’d been referred to them by the United States Marshals, for fuck’s sake. “I don’t have any information for you.”

  His attractive face reddened. “Don’t you even want to know what she’s guilty of?” His fingers tightened into a fist.

  “I’m a very busy woman, Officer Ballard.” And he was wasting her time. She waved her hand toward the door and pretty much indicated that he get out.

  He took an audible breath and visibly reined in his temper. “You need to listen to me.”

  She really didn’t.

  “I know that Adams-Larsen had something to do with the disappearance of Beatrice Winter.”

  He was right, but no way would she admit a thing. Even if he pressed her harder.

  “What I don’t understand is why you’d be hiding a supposed whistleblower in the first place.”

  “Because I’m not.” And technically Beatrice wasn’t hidden. Just relocated with a new name and a new job and a new life.

  Because the Marshals had a leak in their office, so her old boss, Deanna Womack, had asked for a favor. And she and Marsh had agreed.

  On the surface, the Marshals office had fired Jill over an ethics breach. But the truth was a lot more complicated. A pang of sadness hit her.

  With Marsh gone, it really underscored her lonely life. She’d given up a lot more than her career with the Marshals when her lover, Dominic, had officially died under her protection.

  But that was ancient history and she made it her personal motto to have No Regrets. Most days she could to stick to that directive easily, and this guy was annoying her. Which was also too bad. In another time and another place, she might have considered taking Officer Ballard for a spin.

  But that was out of the question now.

  “Adams-Larsen is a public relations firm. We specialize in high profile clients who need assistance with their public image.”

  “Clients no one can name,” he shot back.

  “Which is why we’re very good at our job.”

  Before she could move in for the kill, he said, “So you’re all about profit. It doesn’t bother you at all that Beatrice Winter lied about who she is?”

  Fortunately, Jill had very good control of her facial expressions and emotions. So she was more than confident that she hadn’t given away her confusion. Because she might not be happy, but no way in hell was she going to give up a client to this guy.

  “So you do care.”

  “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” She lifted her chin.

  “You’re familiar with the America’s Recovery Centers’ case.”

  Of course she was familiar with it. Even though the Marshals had requested their help, ALIAS had also vetted Beatrice and done an in-depth background check on Ms. Winter before they’d agreed to do her relo. Marsh had overseen the case personally from start to finish, but he’d kept Jill apprised of the status.

  Marsh had also disappeared not soon after Beatrice Winter’s relocation was finalized.

  But as far as Hamish Ballard was concerned, her only knowledge of the case was through the news. “I’ve seen some details in the news,” she said noncommittally.

  “Beatrice Winter turned in the company officials so she could get away with embezzling money from the company. And she was likely the one facilitating the supply of drugs to the patients while the sober houses and outpatient center were supposedly helping them with their addiction.”

  Jill’s gut response was No Fucking Way.

  But…crap on a cracker. Hamish Ballard seemed very convinced. What if that were true? Several of the center’s patients had died. Not necessarily in the facility, but once they had been released, it hadn’t taken long.

  The Greek yogurt and strawberries she’d had for breakfast soured in the pit of her stomach. Was there any chance he was correct?

  The upper management of the America’s Recovery Centers who were charged in the case took plea deals, pleading guilty to Health Care Fraud. However, the government had never recovered the money. And they’d had forensic accountants looking. The CEO complained bitterly that paying lawyers for the lawsuit had depleted his funds to nothing. Supposedly he was broke. That was why he took the plea deal.

  Boo fricking hoo.

  The CFO had said, “Why would I embezzle the money? We were raking it in and had a good thing going. I was billing insurance companies hundreds of thousands of dollars a month and getting kickbacks from local referral centers and drug testing centers.”

  The government’s response was “You knew the end was coming.” There had been several high profile cases that ended in prison time for the perpetrators, and Florida was beginning to crack down on the “for profit” rehab centers.

  This case was one in a long line of cases on the court dockets this year.

  But no matter how hard the government searched, they hadn’t been able to find the millions supposedly siphoned from the company’s coffers. They were able to seize assets—cars, houses, planes from the executives—but the money was still missing.

  Jill kept her face blank.

  If there were a problem in her house, she would handle it. She didn’t need Officer Hamish Blowhard Ballard interfering in ALIAS company business.

  “Although we don’t have any connection to Ms. Winter’s case, I’m curious, how does this relate to an officer from….” She glanced at his austere card: A logo of the British crown, the agency, his name, and a cell phone number. “The National Crime Agency?”

  “You didn’t know about her, did you?” He narrowed his gaze.

  “I have no idea what you mean, Officer Ballard.”

  If he were right, she was pissed. They had protocols in place. ALIAS’s business model and company systems worked because they vetted their clients carefully. They were on the side of right, and everything they did was done legally, even if maybe sometimes they skimmed along the edge of legality. They had to maintain a careful and protected database of clients. Their clients’ security was paramount. Media attention of any kind was not what ALIAS needed. Especially negative media attention.

  The Marshals had vetted Beatrice before Dee had even passed her case on to ALIAS. No way was this guy right.

  Ballard studied her shrewdly.

  He seemed so sure that even though she didn’t think there was anything wrong with Winter’s case, she was certainly going to investigate. As soon as she got rid of him.

  He strode right up to her desk, so close his thighs pressed against the edge. He slapped his palms on the burled mahogany. “If you won’t give me the information or don’t have the authority, then I want to speak to Marsh Adams.”

  How dare this arrogant fuck assume that she didn’t have the knowledge or authority to run her own damn business? Unfortunately, his assumption was common. She’d put up with jackasses like him before.

  “I am an equal partner and he isn’t available,” Jillian gritted out. She’d been the recipient of this kind of attitude before. People assumed she was merely a figurehead and didn’t work at their business. Most days she ignored people who thought she was a placeholder, but this guy got under her skin. “And there is nothing to discuss. I’m sorry I can’t help you find this woman.”

  He smiled, but it wasn’t nice. It was the kind of smile she usually gave to people who she was about to eviscerate. And she didn’t like it directed at her.

  “I need to speak with Marsh Adams then.”

  It was good to have goals. She’d be happy to pawn this douchenozzle off on her partner…if she had any freaking idea where Marsh was. But she could get rid of this guy by agreeing.

  “Fine. He’s out of range right now,” she lied smoothly. “But as soon as he’s available I’d be happy to put him in touch with you.”

  The smile disappeared. “I don’t think you u
nderstand, Ms. Larsen.” Ballard didn’t move, but somehow he’d made his body bigger, more menacing. Neat trick. “If you don’t give me his whereabouts, I will be returning with an international extradition order for Brianna Walsh aka Beatrice Winter with your name, Marsh Adams’s name, and the firm of Adams-Larsen that will require you to turn her over.”

  Jill wanted to call his bluff. But on the off chance this asshole could get the paperwork, the implications for ALIAS would be bad and she didn’t need any more bad press. So for now she had to play nice. She made her tone conciliatory. “Look. My partner is on sabbatical and I don’t know if he’s in cell range.” She used her voice of diplomacy on him.

  Dammit, Marsh.

  “This is not a negotiable request.” Ballard didn’t back down. “I need to speak with him.”

  “I’ll give him the message. But in the meantime, I have another appointment.” She made a show of glancing at the Cartier tank watch on her wrist.

  Don’t let the door hit you in the ass was strongly implied.

  Hamish Ballard, the bastard, huffed as if he knew she was lying about the appointment. But Jill hadn’t lost her ability to read people, and something was off about I’m Officer Ballard and his bluster.

  “You’ll contact me when you hear from him?”

  “Of course,” Jill replied. “Adams-Larsen is always happy to cooperate with the authorities.”

  Authority or not, this guy was her enemy. A zealot was ten times more dangerous than a tenacious agent, and Hamish Ballard had zealot written all over him.

  Chapter 2

  Well, bollocks. That hadn’t gone well at all.

  Hamish had intended to go in, charm the woman, and find out where Brianna Walsh aka Beatrice Winter was hiding. Instead he’d pissed off the best—and last—lead he had.

  Jillian Larsen had pushed all his buttons. And instead of charming her, he’d lost his temper.

  However, if he was any judge of character, she was going to be looking into his accusations straightaway. Hopefully he’d get the information he needed, even if it was through somewhat dodgy means.

  He sauntered down the sidewalk away from the Adams-Larsen office. Jillian Larsen had been lying through her perfectly straight white teeth. Her “PR” agency had something to do with the disappearance of Brianna Walsh, the Irish mob princess.

  Brianna’s true nature extended back to her teen years growing up in one of the most notorious Irish crime families since the 60s. She’d been instrumental in putting her father and brothers away in exchange for a new identity and protection from her violent relatives. Except Hamish was convinced that she was actually worse than all her incarcerated relatives, and the ones still roaming free, combined.

  She’d taken that new identity and fled to the United States. She could have disappeared and been safe. Instead, she became the self-ascribed whistleblower of a big scandal in the US medical industry and then proceeded to testify against the executives on trial.

  Hamish had studied everything about Brianna Walsh, he knew her, and he knew that she was going to continue her criminal ways. She’d already started. But Hamish wasn’t going to let her get away with it, and he was going to get vengeance for his brother if it was the last thing he did.

  The path to vengeance started with Adams-Larsen and its founder Jillian. There was something rotten at Adams-Larsen, and Hamish was going to find out what it was. Because he knew that the agency was the key to finding Brianna and getting justice for his brother.

  The first step had been put in motion by his visit.

  He had to hope that Jillian Larsen didn’t regularly sweep for bugs. He’d planted two listening devices in her office. One when he’d been sitting in the chair and the other when he’d loomed over her desk.

  He headed back to his Airbnb, within walking distance of her office, to listen in on Jillian Larsen’s office goings-on. After business hours were over, he’d check out Marsh Adams’s apartment. Because her reaction to his query about her partner was suspicious.

  She hadn’t liked his intimation about her status one bit.

  Maybe if hadn’t insinuated that she was merely a figurehead, he’d have gotten further. Although from his research that was what he had assumed.

  And while he thought he’d been able to read her—she’d been pissed—he still wasn’t sure if she was involved in a criminal way, or if she and her partner had been hoodwinked by Brianna.

  But he didn’t give a shite.

  His stomach rolled. Adams-Larsen was the last lead he had left. He was on the edge of getting the boot. And if his boss had any idea he’d come across the pond to pursue the lead on Brianna Walsh, he’d be sacked for sure. Since Jillian Larsen had refused to give up Brianna’s location when she clearly knew the woman, she was his enemy.

  Bugger.

  The bugs had to pay off.

  He shoved aside the desperation that dogged him. He’d hoped that the disgraced former US Marshal now owner of Adams-Larsen would cave and answer his questions when she discovered that Brianna was a criminal.

  The only way to make Brianna pay for her crimes was to find her.

  Brianna had managed to fool the British authorities, and he’d bet that she’d fooled Jillian Larsen as well. But the fact that Jillian had refused to even discuss Brianna had put his back up.

  Jillian Larsen hadn’t been what he’d expected. He’d dug into his research on the plane and on paper she’d come across as a slightly irresponsible formal marshal who had somehow managed to land on her feet and salvage a career from the train wreck of an op gone horribly wrong. He’d assumed that she would be an easy mark and she’d give up her intelligence on Brianna aka Beatrice without a fight. After all, her lax standards had been the death of her key witness in a criminal trial—although she’d managed to keep him alive to testify.

  But now Hamish had questions.

  She exuded sophistication and competence. Her slim pencil skirt and fitted blouse evoked a sort of 50s fashion style. Her perfect lipstick, a bold in-your-face red, accented her lush mouth, portraying a sexy airhead. But in a startling contrast, her smooth facial expressions hid a cunning, secretive woman. She hadn’t given away a thing.

  Nothing he’d said had seemed to rattle her.

  Jillian Larsen had left US Marshals in disgrace. The exact details of her exit were shrouded in mystery.

  Brianna Walsh aka Beatrice Winter was responsible for the death of his brother. She might not have pressed the plunger on his syringe, but she’d been his pusher. If only Hamish had figured it out sooner. But he’d left his brother’s meager belongings packed in boxes. And when Hamish could finally bear to read Charlie’s journal, a practice that his rehab center had insisted on as part of his treatment, Hamish had discovered that Brianna was actually encouraging the inhabitants of the rehab center to do drugs. She had offered Charlie drugs several times.

  His brother had overdosed in rehab. And Hamish was going to make Brianna pay.

  Bringing her down would likely only assuage his guilt because his brother was never coming back.

  But maybe, just maybe, he’d find some peace.

  Once Hamish returned to his flat, he set up to listen in on Jillian’s conversations.

  He shifted on the small hard sofa, his thoughts returning to their meeting. His body had reacted to hers with a surprising, sexual enthusiasm. That moment when they’d shaken hands was burned into his temporal lobe. No doubt. But he wasn’t about to be swayed by pretty face, he wasn’t some rookie on his first assignment.

  Was Marsh Adams the key?

  Jillian Larsen’s very slight reaction had given her away. He might not have even noticed if he hadn’t been intently staring at her, but her gray eyes had flickered, and he had seen that initial moment of shock. Could tell that she hadn’t known about Brianna’s past. But ignorance was not a defense. At the root of the mystery of Brianna’s location was the Adams-Larsen Inc. and Associates public relations firm. It had taken a month of investigation, illegal u
se of the NCA’s databases, and ultimately a favor from a friend at MI5 to track her to Florida where she worked for America’s Recovery Centers and then to Adams-Larsen in Washington.

  When Jillian had shifted gears and shared that her partner was on sabbatical, he knew he was on the right track.

  He could only pray that the small, hopefully undetectable bugs planted in her office would start feeding him intel right away.

  Aye, he’d broken the rules. Aye, he’d get in trouble if he was caught. And anything he heard would not hold up in a court of law but at this point he just needed to find Brianna, and he only had a week to do it.

  He loosened his tie, took off his shoes, notched the headphones in his ear and settled in with a wee dram of scotch and a paper and pen.

  Fortunately, he didn’t have long to wait.

  “Maria! I need this client file.” She rattled off a reference number and Hamish dutifully wrote it in his notebook. “And I need it pronto.”

  Jillian Larsen’s husky voice echoed in his ear, his cock chubbing at the trigger. “Show our trainee how to find files.”

  As he waited for the receptionist, a Latina woman, to deliver the files, anticipation washed over him. Could it really be this easy?

  “Umm, Jill?”

  He’d been so lost in the fantasy of slapping handcuffs on Brianna, he jolted when he heard the secretary’s hesitant voice.

  “Come on in.”

  The door closed softly.

  “Have you got the file for me?” Her throaty voice continued to cause an unexpected physical reaction. Hamish shifted on the sofa.

  They weren’t even in the same room and she was affecting him. He needed to shut that down straightaway.

  “Umm, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There is no file.”

  “That’s…not possible.”

  “I triple checked.” Her voice was hesitant. “I couldn’t find anything under that number.”

  Jillian’s keyboard clacked in his ear. “Try these numbers.” She rattled off two more numbers and Hamish wrote those down as well.