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

by Lisa Hughey

  After another few minutes, the receptionist came back. “I pulled those files for you.”

  “Thanks.” Jillian dismissed the woman. “Can you send Viktor to my office?”

  “Sure.” The door closed.

  He could hear the flipping of papers and then the thump when she dumped them back on her desk.

  The clack of the computer keys echoed in his ear. She exhaled sharply, then muttered, “Dammit, Marsh. Why is the info on Beatrice Winter gone?”

  Ha, he’d been right. They had had contact with Brianna. Did they have something to do with her disappearance? He surely hoped so.

  He gripped his pen tightly and waited.

  The beep of cell buttons being pushed was soft and indistinct. Her fingers drummed in his ear.

  After a minute, she said, “Marsh. It’s time. I need you to call me back. There’s a guy here asking questions about Beatrice Winter. Saying she’s a criminal. And I need your input.”

  He listened to her curse softly after she hung up the phone.

  While the words weren’t a complete indication that they knew where she was, it was a step in the right direction.

  Jillian waited for Viktor to close the door to her office.

  “You wanted to see me, boss?”

  “Yes.” Jill stared at the stripped contents of the file on Beatrice Winter. “You worked phase one of the Winter case, correct?”

  He sat down gingerly. “Yes.”

  He seemed anxious, not what she intended him to feel. She studied Viktor, wondering what was going on with him.

  “Is there a problem?” he finally asked.

  “Not at all.” Look at her, becoming a champion liar. “I wondered if you have had a chance to test the results.”

  Misinformation, obscuring the details of a client’s life, took time and a meticulous attention to detail.

  “Marsh took care of it.”

  Marsh again. Huh. What the hell, Marsh?

  “Can you double test what he did?”

  “Absolutely. It won’t take long. She was pretty light on accounts.”

  “Light?”

  “Yeah. Besides utilities, apartment, and one credit card, she didn’t really have customer accounts. She was a one step removed from completely off the grid.”

  “No grocery affiliate points or iTunes or Amazon or pharmacy points?”

  “Nope.” Viktor shook his head. “She seemed to have an almost pathological lack of accounts.”

  Or…she had a brand spanking new identity and hadn’t had time to sign up for anything. Jill’s suspicions were growing. Dammit.

  “Can you do an audit and get back to me with the results?”

  “Sure thing.” He released a soft, sad breath and stood up. He walked without his usual efficiency, his movements slow, as if he was wading through the sadness that surrounded him.

  Jill always tried to straddle that line between being interested in her employees and not invading their privacy. But she also thought of herself like their mother. Adams-Larsen was her family and she was the matriarch. Which was ironic, since she hadn’t seen her mother in thirty years. “Anything else bothering you?”

  Viktor shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  Fine. Possibly the most ambiguous word in the English language. Fine did not mean fine.

  “Do you…want to talk about the breakup?” she asked softly, somewhat dreading the answer. She wanted to help, but she had no idea if she could.

  Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

  Viktor paused, looked at her. “Not sure there’s much to talk about. It’s over. And basically, I need to move on.”

  But clearly he wasn’t moving on. At least not yet. So instead of talking, Jill listened.

  In the weight of that silence, Viktor’s eyes sheened. “I thought he was the one.” He curled his fingers into a fist.

  The one. She didn’t know what to say. Honestly, she pretty much believed the one was a myth. Although lately her friends were convinced they had found that elusive one and seemed incredibly happy.

  What would it be like? To find that one person who completed you? Years ago she had believed Dominic might be the one. But she’d been wrong. Now she wasn’t a big believer in the concept. But after watching Bliss and Jack, Marissa and John, Kita and Alex, and even Dwayne and Maria, she thought she didn’t have a fucking clue.

  “Sometimes…” She started, then stopped. “Sometimes we just have to keep moving. It gets easier.” And it did get easier. And still she felt the inadequacy of her words in his small smile.

  “Thanks, Jill.”

  Another moment when she needed Marsh. He was the far more touchy-feely of the two of them. If she was the matriarch, Marsh was the patriarch. Together they tended their small flock of employees.

  Sure she was an emotionally stunted, physically unavailable mother but still. Marsh always took care of dispensing fist bumps and back-slapping hugs. But Marsh wasn’t here.

  She thought about it for a minute. What would Marsh do?

  “Do you…need a hug?” She felt stupid because her first instinct was to step away from intimacy.

  “That would be nice,” he replied softly.

  Jillian set her coffee cup on her desk and tentatively wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Viktor curved his arms around her waist, the hug still slightly awkward, that lean in without really touching, except maybe the cheek and neck.

  “It will get better,” she whispered in his ear. “But maybe go see if Kita will let you kick the shit out of her.”

  “Great idea.”

  “Have her dress up in the mugger outfit and we can put a printout of your ex’s face over the hood.”

  Viktor laughed, his shoulder shaking.

  “If that doesn’t work, go out and get drunk.”

  Viktor laughed again, this time a little heartier. “Thanks, boss.” He left her office with a little more spring in his step and an actual smile on his face.

  Her sense of accomplishment was out of proportion to the small success. But she’d take the win anyway.

  Jill punched in numbers on her phone and waited as it rang on the other end of line. She connected with Dee’s admin, a very grumpy gatekeeper who put her through to her old boss and mentor.

  “Deanna Womack.”

  “Dee, it’s Jill.” Jill pressed her hand flat on top of the nearly empty file. “I need to talk to you about a case that you referred to us a few months ago.”

  “Ask away.” As if Dee wasn’t quite paying attention.

  “I really believe this needs to be discussed in person.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. Jill heard the soft exhale from her former boss. She had to know exactly who Jill was talking about because…there had only been one case recently.

  “I’m busy today.” Dee paused again as if consulting her calendar. “I can see you tomorrow morning, say ten a.m.”

  “Ten tomorrow morning is perfect.” Jill frowned at the flat tone of Dee’s voice. “See you then.”

  What in the fresh hell was going on?

  A strange man asking about Beatrice Winter. Most of the contents of the main file missing. Viktor’s comment about Beatrice’s unconnected life. Dee not even flinching to schedule a meeting as if she already knew there were discrepancies regarding Beatrice Winter.

  Years ago, Deanna Womack had had Jill’s back. But that telltale exhale when Jill asked for the meeting had alarm bells ringing everywhere. Dee could have resisted a face-to-face if she deemed the information wasn’t too sensitive, but she hadn’t argued about meeting in person. Based on the intel Hamish Ballard had just shoved down her throat, that lack of hesitation was doubly concerning.

  A knock on the door interrupted her musings.

  Kita bounced into Jill’s office in spandex shorts and a wicking tank top. She threw herself into the chair across from Jill’s desk and propped her chin on her fist. “So what was up with the Scottish Hottie?”

  Jill snorted. “Sco
ttish pain in my ass, you mean.”

  “Sure.” She smirked.

  Jill didn’t intend to confide in Kita, especially due to the sensitive nature of his accusations. “He was just here as a courtesy while here tracking down a suspect.”

  “Someone we know?” Kita asked.

  “No one important,” Jill lied again. It was time to start delving into Marsh’s privacy. “Say, can you do me a favor and give me a list of all of Marsh’s credit card charges from the beginning of his hiatus.”

  Kita sat straight up in the chair, blinked. “You want me to illegally hack Marsh’s bank account?”

  Jill laughed nervously. “Of course not.” She tapped her fingernails on those empty files again. She might not be interested in helping Hamish Ballard. And she might not want to keep looking for Marsh. He needed to come home on his own. But it certainly wouldn’t hurt to review and trace his locations after he did his disappearing act.

  “I’m talking about his company credit card charges.”

  Kita sank back into the cushy chair. “Oh, darn. I was hoping for a little illegal hacking.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and she gave a devilish little laugh. “Kidding.”

  Jill fought the urge to smooth her hair down when she knew it was already perfect. Because Kita had planted the seed. What if she had Kita hack Marsh’s private transactions as well?

  She was floundering, wondering if Beatrice Winter really was Brianna Walsh, wondering if her partner had known that something was off with their client. Damn Hamish Ballard for even putting that thought in her head. But now that it was there, it worried away at the recesses of her brain. What if Beatrice really was a criminal? What if Marsh wasn’t missing, but he’d followed her or she’d done something to him?

  Jill knew that Marsh and Beatrice had had a sexual relationship. Jill certainly couldn’t throw stones, since the whole reason ALIAS existed was because of her ill-advised relationship with a witness she had protected. What she did know…Hamish Ballard was a threat to ALIAS, their employees, and their clients. And if he kept pushing, a threat to her. She needed all the ammunition she could get to head him off and make this go away.

  Because if he kept digging, if he kept poking at Jill and demanding answers, someone was bound to take notice.

  Kita tilted her head. “I thought we’d decided not to look for Marsh.”

  She had…until a certain Scottish officer exploded into her office and thrown around accusations that Jill couldn’t let stand.

  “On second thought—” Jill avoided Kita’s inquisitive gaze “—can you get Marsh’s personal transactions as well?”

  Kita was no longer smiling, because she understood the implications of what Jill was asking. “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

  “But—”

  Jill held up her palm because even though she was asking Kita for something illegal, she didn’t want to say the words out loud. “We understand each other?”

  “I’m on it, boss.” Kita headed for the door, turned around, grabbed the knob and gave Jill one last measuring look. “You know what you’re doing?”

  No fucking clue. But wasn’t that how you got through life sometimes? Fake it until you make it. “Yes.”

  “You know I’m your friend.”

  “I know.” They were sort of friends.

  A pang of envy hit Jill. Because Kita had been Marsh’s friend first, and Jill couldn’t afford to overlook the fact that if Kita had to choose between Jill and Marsh…that Marsh would win hands down. Kita was a bit of a rule breaker. She didn’t hesitate when the safety or reputation of someone she cared about was on the line. Which meant that Jill couldn’t confide in Kita. She was all alone.

  Jill had to be loyal to the entire company. Their clients and her employees. Kita was passionate and committed, but she would break the rules in a hot minute to protect Marsh.

  Chapter 3

  Hamish listened for another two hours until Jillian Larsen left for the day, but she hadn’t said anything else that would be considered incriminating. Or lead him to his prey.

  Hamish closed his laptop and headed out the door. Time to check out Marsh Adams’s condominium. Based on the message Jillian left on Marsh’s cell, Hamish thought Marsh might be gone, out of town. So maybe that sabbatical she’d blown him off with was real. Marsh definitely hadn’t called her back while Hamish was listening.

  Thirty minutes later, Hamish was casing the exterior of the eight-story brick building with a delivery ramp in the back and doorman at the front entrance. Cameras mounted on each of the corners and lights on the back were more for security than attractive illumination.

  He studied the people going in and out, waiting for the right opportunity, until finally he saw a pizza delivery van pull in behind the building.

  He sidled up to the van as the delivery person was getting out. “Hello, mate.”

  “Dios, you scared me.” The skinny, young Hispanic kid put a hand to his chest.

  “Hey, I want to surprise my girlfriend.” He patted his pocket; he’d brought a small box that would look like a ring box as a precaution. “Could I deliver that for you?”

  The kid held the pizza box in front of him like a shield, his fingers tightening as if Hamish was going to steal the pie. “I can’t do that. If you stole the pizza, I’d be fired.”

  “You can watch me go in the elevator.” Hamish put his hand over his heart. “I promise I will make your delivery.”

  He reached into his wallet and pulled out several twenty US bills. “You would be helping me out.” He gave the kid a conspiratorial grin. “She’s hacked off at me and I need to make a grand gesture. But she won’t let me in.” He patted the box again.

  The kid’s eyes lit up at the money. He reached for the cash.

  “Can I borrow the hat too?”

  “How much money is that?”

  “A hundred US.”

  “US?”

  “Dollars.”

  “Sure,” he said enthusiastically. “I’ve got another hat.”

  “Thanks mate, I owe you.” Hamish got the address of the apartment that ordered the pizza. “I promise I’ll deliver it.”

  “Good luck with your girl,” the kid called out.

  For one brief moment, a picture of Jillian Larsen flashed in Hamish’s mind. He wouldn’t mind a girl like that. With her smoky voice and sultry lips and yet all buttoned up, she was totally lush. A temptation—if he’d been here under any other circumstances, he’d have chatted her up and hoped for a date. Or one night in a posh hotel. But she wasn’t for him.

  Get your head out of your arse and get cracking.

  He headed into the building and nodded briefly at the doorman. “Pizza for 5A.”

  “Go on up.”

  Hamish took the elevator and delivered the pizza quickly, brushing aside the tip. “Give it to the guy next time.”

  As soon as the tenant shut their door, he hustled to the stairwell. Within minutes he was on the top floor of the grand old building. All the other floors had eight condominiums but this floor only had two.

  Hamish slipped a set of lockpicks out of his pocket and jiggled the lock on 8B. The well-oiled lock took some finesse, but he was able to slip inside within sixty seconds.

  The apartment was dark since November’s short days meant night had fallen, but ambient light from the full moon filtered through the curtainless windows. He slipped on a pair of cheap vinyl gloves, then pulled out his cell phone and used the flashlight app to shine some light on the sparsely decorated bachelor pad. Hamish moved with precision through the apartment, opening drawers and searching for any clue to help him find Marsh Adams.

  He’d just begun to search the closet when the sound of the lock turning caught his ear.

  Shite.

  Hamish shut off the light and ducked underneath the row of hanging suits to settle in.

  He wanted to hear what Mar
sh Adams was up to before he confronted the guy. So much for Jillian Larsen’s assertion that she couldn’t reach her partner.

  Keys clanked on the metal kitchen table with a loud thud. Cabinet doors opened and shut, as if the bloke was looking for something rather than getting dinner.

  The sounds continued getting progressively louder as Adams made his way to the bedroom. Except as the sound of muttering hit his ears, Hamish realized that it wasn’t Adams.

  The voice was female, breathy, and his body recognized her before his brain.

  His cock had stiffened and his heartbeat picked up as Jillian Larsen’s distinctive rasp rubbed over his nerve endings.

  “Where the hell are you, Marsh?” A dresser drawer slammed. “This is a waste of time.”

  Hamish ducked farther beneath the suits and hoped that her search path wasn’t the same as his. He was too big to really be concealed beneath the clothing. If she turned on the closet light, she’d see him for sure. Shoes, suits, even socks and underwear were neatly lined up in the meticulously ordered walk-in closet. He shifted carefully until he was behind the path of the door. If she opened it and didn’t look behind the door, there was a chance she wouldn’t see him. But if she walked all the way into the closet, he was done for.

  If there were something in Marsh Adams’s apartment, Hamish hadn’t had a chance to find it. And she didn’t seem to be having any better luck.

  Give up, go home, he mentally chanted as she muttered while opening and closing drawers.

  But of course his luck wasn’t that good. Wasn’t that the way of it?

  The closet door shoved open so hard that even though he’d been anticipating just this situation, the door hit him in the head. Normally closet doors opened outward but again, just his luck this one had opened inward.

  “Oomph.” He muffled a soft grunt, trying but unable to completely stifle the noise. Which was probably for the best. If he’d caught her completely unaware then she might have shot first asked questions later. Americans.

  “What the hell?”

  Hamish shook his head to clear it and stood swiftly.

  He wasn’t sure what was more disorienting…the scent of her perfume wafting to him or the hit he’d taken to his face.