by Vella Day
“Marina Lavelle, how may I help you?”
The woman didn’t have a secretary? Mac actually forgot what she was going to say for a moment. She’d concocted a story about wanting to adopt a baby, but all thoughts flew out of her head but the truth—or mostly the truth.
“My name is Hannah Atkins. Darla gave me your name.”
“Any friend of Darla’s is a friend of mine. How can I help?”
Mac opened her mouth then closed it. For the most part, lawyers were honorable, but Paul Statler was a lawyer, too, and he was scum. Mac decided to take a chance that Marina was on the right side of the law. “Would it be possible to meet for lunch or coffee today? I know that’s an odd request, but it involves Roger Medlock.”
“Roger? Did that ass promise you the world and not deliver?”
Guess that answered Mac’s question about whether Marina still had the hots for him. “Not exactly. It’s not something I can discuss over the phone.”
“Just a sec. Let me check my calendar. I have a two o’clock appointment. Can we meet at one?”
That was more than she’d hoped for. “Sure.”
“How about Darla’s coffee shop on Mabry and Main?”
Darla owned a coffee shop? Mac’s people skills were slipping. “Sure. Sounds good.”
That left her a few hours before she had to head out. If the men checked the tracking device, she’d tell them she was going house crazy and needed to get out. They couldn’t expect her to sit home all day, now could they?
Time to get back to work.
The next name on the list was Charles Nesmith. The first hour of research didn’t provide her with much to go on. He’d divorced ten years ago and hadn’t remarried. Much of his time was spent overseas, in places like Iran, Iraq, Egypt, and Pakistan. Mac wanted to check to see if he’d received cash deposits from overseas clients for the women. To her surprise, she was able to get into his bank account quite easily. For a man as rich as Nesmith, he sure was dumb to use the same password for Facebook as he did for his bank.
It was his bank account, or rather bank accounts, that proved interesting. While she had no proof what all the money was for, the man was a player. His many deposits could be from selling women, or from trading guns. Dealing drugs was also an option. Because he was the one who had thirty thousand by his name, Mac had the sinking feeling the man might have bought three women and traded them overseas. God help them all.
Mac was smart enough to know when she was in over her head, and Charles Nesmith seemed the biggest challenge. She’d meet with Marina, hear what the woman had to say about Medlock, and then decide her next plan of action. It wouldn’t hurt to go through all the men’s history. Something might pop out.
Her stomach grumbled. Since it was close to noon, she ate the leftover lasagna then changed into an outfit more suitable to meet a lawyer. After returning the tracking device to her car, Mac typed in the address for Darla’s shop and headed out. Her palms remained a bit damp, which wouldn’t do. Coming mostly clean would be the best, but also the most dangerous. What if Marina knew that Medlock had Cheryl and tipped him off? That could cost Cheryl her life.
Medlock might have been able to snow Marina into thinking he was above reproach, but he wouldn’t fool Mac. Look what had happened to Elena Sanchez. She’d said that Harvey Couch, the man she’d worked for, ran an Au Pair business. On the surface, his company had seemed legitimate. She’d had no idea the man used it as a front to kidnap women and sell them.
Marina Lavelle dealt in adoptions. At first, Mac thought she might have stolen some of the babies and had Medlock help her sell them on the black market. That had caused Mac to do a search on the sexy lawyer. The woman had graduated at the top of her class in law school and had come from a good family—a family who’d adopted her when she was three. All in all, this lawyer seemed to be on the up and up.
Mac parked close to the shop, cut the engine, and crossed her fingers, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake in trusting this woman. Darla’s place was inviting. It had a brown and white striped awning with cute café tables outside. Pots filled with colorful flowers acted as a border between the coffee shop and the stationery store next door. No one was sitting outside; Mac guessed that sixty-eight degrees was a bit too chilly for these southerners.
She stepped inside and the hairs on her neck bristled. A halfling or a werewolf was here. Other than the young man behind the counter, Marina was the only person in the shop. From the strength of the feeling, Marina Lavelle was a halfling, just like her. Dressed in an elegant navy blue suit, Marina’s hair was tastefully pulled back in a bun. As Mac approached, Marina glanced up. Her jaw loosened. It was if she suddenly realized they had something in common.
Mac smiled and held out her hand. “Ms. Lavelle?”
The second their hands touched, Mac felt a different kind of connection than that of having werewolf fathers. They seemed to relate on another level, too. While Mac wasn’t perfect in figuring out who was good and who wasn’t, she would bet anything that Marina had morals. From all Mac had read about her, Marina knew what she wanted and went after it.
“Ms. Atkins?”
Mac pulled out the seat, trying to decide how much she should tell. She had about ten seconds to decide. “Actually, my name is Mackenzie Wagner.” Marina reached down for her purse. “Wait. I need to explain.”
Marina worked her mouth, but then she sat back. “I’m listening.”
“I’m going to take a real big chance by telling you something.”
Her brows rose. “I’m rather good at keeping secrets. You said this was about Roger Medlock?”
Mac hoped her secret keeping ability was true. “Yes.” She explained about her missing cousin Cheryl.
“And you think Roger bought her?” She shook her head. “Why? The man can have any woman. I just wasn’t the right one for him.”
“Maybe. You were in his house and on his boat?”
Her eyes widened. “How did you—Darla, right?”
“Yes, but don’t blame her. I made up a story about my folks wanting to move into the neighborhood and asked about Roger.”
“I adore Darla, but I’ve learned that whatever I tell her, it’s up for publication. I’m getting some coffee. You want some?” She pushed back her chair.
“Sure.” They walked up to the counter and ordered, but Marina insisted on paying, which made Mac feel a bit better about trusting her.
Once they had their drinks, they returned to the table. “How can I help? I’m not dating Medlock anymore, so it’s not like I can sneak around and ask the help if they’ve seen another woman.”
“Does he have any other homes?”
She shook her head. “Not that he mentioned, but one never knows with Roger. He could have investment properties. He makes so much money; he needs to diversify his holdings.”
Mac made a mental note to check the property records. “I’ll look into it.”
Marina reached into her purse. “I was going to throw this out. It came in the mail today. It’s another party invitation to Roger’s house.” Marina slid it across the table. “If you’re really worried about your cousin, maybe you want to go. But take someone with you.”
Mac couldn’t believe her luck. “Is there a name on it?”
“No. Roger hands them out like candy. I think he just wants votes. Did Darla tell you he’s running for office?”
“She did.”
They chatted a bit more about Roger’s arrogance, and his hot and cold personality. “I need to get back,” Marina said. “Let me know how it turns out.”
Mac smiled. “I will.”
Chapter Nineteen
Mac’s luck held, and she made it home without running into the men. She quickly booted up her computer and hacked into Medlock’s bank records. Something Marina said had spurred an idea. At first, Mac didn’t think what she found was significant, until she noticed the same name appearing on his check registry every few weeks. The charge was around a hundre
d dollars. When she searched the name of Richard Diego, it turned out he was a urologist. Not that it proved her suspicion, but it gave credence to it.
All she needed was one other bit of information. She’d just found it when both of the men returned home. She closed her laptop and rushed to greet them.
“Hmm. Who needs a kiss the most?” she said, happy to see them.
Sam grabbed her and planted one on her. Her hormones surged. God, when would this incredible rush end? Or would it ever?
“My turn.” Brandon tugged her away from Sam.
Odd how the intensity of the attraction remained the same, but her reaction to the two men was a bit different. With Sam, her heart would beat fast and her skin would heat, but with Brandon, her stomach would clench and her breasts seemed to swell.
Brandon’s kiss was soft, but with what his hands were doing, she was ready to tear off his clothes and do him right there.
“Cool your jets, you two,” Sam said. “Brandon, we promised her dinner out. Remember?”
She broke the kiss. “You’re taking me out?”
Sam smiled. “You bet. You’ve been here all day. It’s the least we can do.”
They must not really be checking the tracking device, unless they weren’t the ones who put it there. That was a scary thought. If they were going to have any kind of relationship, she needed to be truthful. “Actually, I did go out. How about I change and tell you all about it over dinner.”
Before they could say anything, she scooted to her room to put on something sexier. She wanted to drive the men wild all night. Once happy with her outfit choice, she rushed down the hallway.
“I’m ready. Let’s go!” Please don’t think about what I just said, and tell me I broke some rule and need to stay home.
Brandon pulled open the truck door then wrapped an arm around her waist. “How do you feel about steak?”
“Love it.” Yes! They were going to let her tell them on her own time.
Once they were seated at a booth at The Ranch House, Brandon, who was sitting next to her, nudged her leg. “We want to hear all about your day.”
“I think Sam was right about Roger Medlock needing a wife.”
He dipped his chin. “How so?”
“I happen to stumble across his bank statements and found out that he paid a man the same amount every month or two. That man was a urologist. From another source, I thought perhaps he might need some erectile dysfunction medication.”
“Roger Medlock is impotent?”
She glanced around. “Shh. I don’t have proof. Well, I kind of have proof.”
Brandon picked up her hand and squeezed. “What aren’t you telling us?”
She’d have to come clean. Otherwise, how could she explain the invitation? “Now, don’t get mad.”
Sam tipped back his drink. “Brandon, whenever a woman starts off with ‘now, don’t get mad,’ you know she’s gone and done something we won’t like.”
Mac blew out a breath. “All I did was visit Roger Medlock’s neighborhood.”
“You what?” Sam slapped his hand on the table, attracting way too much attention.
Mac crossed her arms over her chest. “I won’t tell you if you don’t simmer down.”
Brandon shot Sam a lethal glare. From the way their faces were contorting, they were communicating, and it didn’t look good for her. She’d had enough. “Will you just talk? Out loud, please?”
Brandon leaned close. “Tell us everything. And we mean everything. If you leave anything out, we’ll know.”
No, they wouldn’t, but she went ahead and told them everything anyway, including her coffee time with Marina Lavelle. “So you see? I was very careful.”
“You gave your real name to the lawyer? What if she goes to Medlock? We’ll lose any chance of finding Cheryl, or whichever woman he has.”
She inhaled. “Marina is a halfling. I trust her.”
Sam shook his head. “You trust everyone.”
“I trusted you two and that turned out okay.” She’d left out one piece of information that she hoped the men would be excited about. Slipping the envelope from her purse, she placed it between her and Sam. “This is an invitation to a party at Roger Medlock’s house this Saturday evening.”
Sam picked it up and read it. The slow smile that spread across his face assured her that tonight would be another wonderful evening.
* * *
Mac twisted around and faced the men. As much as she’d looked forward to going to this fancy party at Roger Medlock’s house so she could search for Cheryl, she was so out of her element. She wasn’t the fancy dressing, schmoozing type of girl. She could only hope no one would notice her discomfort. The party was for potential donors and all she could talk about was computer hacking and lock picking.
“Does this look okay?” She’d never worn an evening gown before, and definitely not one this low cut. It wasn’t her thing. Yesterday, the men had taken her to a boutique to find a dress. They’d told her she looked amazing, and she prayed they were right.
“You look fantastic,” Brandon said. He looked over at Sam. “Why don’t you get it?”
Sam disappeared into his room and returned with a long case. He handed it to Brandon who flipped open the case. “This is my mom necklace. She wants you to wear it tonight,” Brandon said.
Mac was stunned. “You spoke with your mom?”
“Yes. I told you she only lives about forty-five minutes from here. Is that okay with you?”
He was being silly. “Of course.” Mac felt bad that she hadn’t taken the time to get to know who they really were. She wheeled around to face Sam. “What about your family? Do they live here, too?”
“No.” A dark shadow crossed his face.
She’d hoped for more but apparently Sam wasn’t in a sharing mood. She didn’t blame him. He was probably thinking about having to spend an evening in the home of a known Colter. “After tonight, I want the lowdown from both of you. This stuff is important, and I need to know. Will I ever get to meet your family, Brandon?” She hated that her words came out rather shrill. “Never mind. If they meet me, they may not like me.”
“Oh, darlin’. They’ll love you.”
He was just saying that to calm her nerves. “I hope so.”
Brandon wrapped her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry about our folks. I’m saving you from mine. They’ll ask too many questions. I thought we’d find Cheryl and then unleash them on you.”
Relief washed through her. “Thank you.” As much as she wanted to question Sam, this didn’t seem to be a good time. She nodded to the case in his hand. “Can I see what’s inside?”
Light returned to his face. It was as if the bad memory disappeared. “Sorry, baby. Here.”
She opened it up and was stunned by the ruby necklace. “It’s gorgeous.”
Brandon slipped it from the case and clasped it around her neck. “It was my grandmothers, and she gave it to my mom.”
Mac faced the mirror and fingered the intricate metal design. “Wow. The detail is fantastic.”
“So are you. Ready to face Roger Medlock?”
“Yes.” Mac shouldn’t be nervous. Medlock was a man who wanted others to think he was good. “Do you think he’ll freak when two and half werewolves walk in his door?”
“It’s not like we’re going to shift at his party or anything,” Brandon said as he fixed her hair so it fell straight in back.
“I know, but when you meet another werewolf, do you immediately wonder if they might be a Colter?”
Brandon hesitated. “I don’t, but Sam does.”
She turned to him. “Why’s that?”
Brandon and Sam led her to the truck out back, but he didn’t answer. Brandon opened the truck door and helped her get seated before slipping in next to her.
Sam started the engine and backed out of the drive.
“Sam?” Brandon said. “She is our mate. You need to tell her. It’s for her own safety.�
�
Mac twisted toward him, the pressure in her chest increasing. “Please, Sam.”
He slapped a hand on the wheel. “It happened a long time ago, and I don’t want to talk about it.” That partially explained the dark look when she’d asked about his family.
She looked over at Brandon who shrugged. All three were sitting in the front seat of Sam’s truck. Brandon’s lips pressed against her ear. “Give him time.”
For now, she’d agree. As they turned down the road to where Medlock lived, cars lined the street. “There must be hundreds of people here,” she said.
That was a good thing. With so many attending, it would be easy to sneak off and check out the rooms. If anyone asked what she was doing, she’d say she’d never been in such a magnificent house before and wanted to see what it was like. That would only be a partial lie.
“Looks like valet parking,” Sam said as a young man in black pants and black shirt jogged toward them.
“Ready?” Brandon asked.
She inhaled. “Yes.” God help them.
Two men at the door checked their invitation. Since there wasn’t a name on the envelope, the men nodded and let them in. Music blared, and the sweet scent of flowers permeated the room. They’d come an hour after the start time, and yet the place was already jammed.
Their host spent no time working his way toward them. She figured it was the men’s werewolf status that had drawn Medlock to them.
He smiled broadly and held out his hand. “I’m Roger Medlock, welcome to my party.” It sounded practiced like he was already on the ballot.
“Sam Keller and my cousin Brandon.” They shook hands.
That answered her question about whether they’d planned to use their real names. Wanting to be able to remember her pseudonym, she held out her hand, and used the same one as before. “Hannah Atkins.” It was possible that Darla or Marina had spoken of her, though Mac had only used her fake name with Darla. When no recognition showed on his face, Mac relaxed.
“Get something to eat and drink and enjoy!” Medlock waved at someone behind them and excused himself.