B. J. Daniels

by Secret Weapon Spouse

  “Pres owns a couple of companies,” C.B. said. “Would you like the names?”

  “If you don’t mind, that would be very helpful,” she said.

  Alex gritted his teeth. Yesterday he’d asked his father for other ways to reach Preston and got the runaround. C.B. had insisted on handling everything himself, as usual.

  C.B. went to his desk, flipped open a folder lying right on top. Apparently, he’d been trying again to reach Pres. “One is a company called Wellington Enterprises.”

  The same name as the one Caroline had written all the checks to.

  “The other is—” C.B. dug through the folder “—Maple Ridge Unlimited.”

  “Are those companies in Miami?” Samantha was asking.

  “Both out of New York,” C.B. said with obvious pride. “Pres is quite the young man. Smart and ambitious.”

  Alex groaned inwardly. Even Brian looked a little green around the gills. Their father admired ambition almost as much as he did money.

  As C.B. closed the folder on his desk, Alex had a very bad feeling. “Let me guess, you invested money in Pres’s companies.”

  C.B. shot him a hard look. “You wouldn’t presume to advise me on how to invest my money, would you, Alex?”

  “What would a fireman know about such things,” Alex quipped.

  Exactly, his father’s look said before the older man moved closer to Samantha and said something Alex didn’t catch.

  Alex glanced at his brother.

  Brian had wandered over to their father’s desk and had lifted the corner of the folder from which C.B. had gotten the names of Preston’s companies just moments before. Brian appeared to be scanning the information inside the folder.

  “Brian, you’re awfully quiet tonight,” Alex said.

  His brother started, letting the folder fall shut as he stepped away from the desk. “I don’t speak when I have nothing to say.”

  Alex groaned at his brother’s arrogance. “Oh, I suspect you have plenty to say—behind my back.”

  “So why did Caroline take you with her yesterday?” Brian asked.

  Alex wished he knew. “I guess she wanted one of her brothers with her and I was available.”

  Brian smirked at that. “One of the benefits of having what amounts to little more than a part-time job. What I don’t understand is why you’ve taken it on yourself to find Preston. I thought Dad told you he had already left a message. What are you trying to prove anyway?”

  Alex started to step toward his brother but felt Samantha’s cool touch on his arm.

  “Thank you for your help,” she said in that calming tone of hers. “I know how much Preston would appreciate our efforts to locate him. He will want to be at Caroline’s side.”

  Yeah right, Alex thought as he let her steer him toward the door. He was still fuming when they climbed into his pickup, but he didn’t say anything until they were out the gate and he could no longer see the grounds in his rearview mirror.

  “THAT WENT WELL,” Alex said with a laugh, his large hands gripping the wheel. “Now you see why I give my family a wide berth. But you were great with my father.” His gaze met hers and locked for an instant. “You really are amazing.” He turned back to his driving but she could still feel the heat of that gaze warming her to her toes.

  “You know something good might come out of this,” he was saying. “This might be just the humbling experience my father and brother need. I have a feeling that my father probably invested a bundle with his future son-in-law Pres. And Brian, too.” He glanced over at her. “And they’re both going to lose it all.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?”

  Alex shook his head. “I hope to hell I’m wrong about Pres, but I have a bad feeling we won’t be seeing him again.”

  Samantha considered telling him what she’d found out about Preston Wellington III. But she needed the fingerprints from the champagne bottle and glasses first. She needed to know exactly what they were dealing with before she hit him with the bad news.

  And Alex was in enough of a temper as it was. In the mood he was in, he would return to his father’s house and slap them with the news that Preston Wellington III didn’t even exist. At least not until a year ago.

  She didn’t want that happening. It would only open a bigger can of worms. A man like C. B. Graham would demand to know how she’d come by such information. She couldn’t chance blowing her cover. It would be hard enough to convince Alex.

  Alex dropped her off at her office saying he had to go by the firehouse. He was taking some time off.

  After he left, Samantha went upstairs to be briefed on the other members parts of the Sonya Botero case.

  Unfortunately, there was little news. Julia, who’d been friends with Sonya, had been working to see if there was a connection between any of the people they knew, friends, relatives, acquaintances.

  Sophie was working on the Craig Johnson part of the investigation. Isabelle was getting ready to go to Ladera. Nicole was using her background as a private investigator for wealthy clients to follow up on some leads. The rest of the team was beating the bushes as well, making contacts with informants, leaving no stone unturned.

  After the briefing, Samantha spent the day finalizing last-minute details for the Holcum-Anders wedding. While not one of the shop’s largest or most extravagant, the wedding had been in the planning stages for almost a year now and would culminate in the ceremony tomorrow.

  Everything was set but still she went over the details again. Her mind had been wandering all day and wandering in an annoying and worrisome direction: Alex Graham.

  Her phone rang, making her jump. For just an instant, she thought it would be Alex and was disappointed when she saw it was an inner-office line.

  “I’ve got more bad news for you,” Clare said without preamble. “A woman’s body was found this morning in the Miami River. Rachel asked me to let you know. I guess she’s gone down there to make the identification if it turns out to be Sonya. She’s hoping to spare both Juan and Carlos. Might not even be Sonya, although the description sounds close.”

  Samantha felt sick. “It can’t be her. Why take her only to kill her? They didn’t even make a ransom demand.”

  “Sometimes it isn’t about money, you know that.”

  Hadn’t she suspected that if Preston, or whoever he was, was behind this that he’d taken Sonya just to hide his true crime—his attempt on Caroline’s life. “Let me know as soon as you hear?”

  “I will. And as for Preston Wellington III…”

  Samantha braced herself for the worst.

  “During the last year he’s made a bunch of investments. Looks like he might be overextended. Big-time.”

  Just as Alex had suspected. “Check something for me?” She hated to even voice her latest fear. “Did he by any chance take out an insurance policy on his future bride?”

  ALEX MADE A DOZEN more attempts to reach his sister’s fiancé, then did something drastic. He called his brother.

  “I’m sorry but Mr. Graham is in a meeting,” the third secretary he spoke to told him.

  “I don’t want to speak with Mr. Graham, I want to speak with Brian. Which secretary are you?” Alex asked.

  “I’m his private secretary,” the woman said.

  “What man needs three secretaries? Look, tell Brian his brother is on the line and if he doesn’t take my call I will come down there. It’s urgent.”

  “One moment please.”

  It wasn’t a minute later that Brian came on. “What the hell are you doing threatening my staff?”

  “Three secretaries?”

  “Did you want something? I’m busy.”

  Alex raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “I still haven’t been able to reach Caroline’s fiancé.”

  “That’s why you got me out of an important meeting?” He swore. “I told you Dad was handling this.”

  “Don’t you think the man should know that his fiancée is in the hospital,
possibly even…” He veered away from even the thought. “I know Dad invested some money with him. He wouldn’t have done that without checking with you first.” Silence. “Dammit, Brian, if you have some way to reach the man, I want it. And if you don’t, I want to know why the hell not.”

  His brother sighed deeply. “I have the same numbers you do.”

  “Dad did invest with him, didn’t he?”

  “I have to get back to my meeting.”

  “How about addresses then? These businesses Pres sold the two of you on, they have addresses, right?”

  For a moment, he thought his brother would just hang up on him. Or at the very least refuse to give them to him. “I’ll have one of my secretaries find them for you and call you back,” Brian said.

  “I’ll hold.” But while he waited Alex realized Brian wouldn’t give him the addresses unless Brian had already tried finding Preston through them—and couldn’t.

  Another dead end.

  IT SURPRISED SAMANTHA that she hadn’t heard from Alex again. Had something happened? She called the hospital but Caroline was still unconscious.

  Maybe Alex had located Preston. He might already know more than she did about his sister’s fiancé.

  Samantha got up and went to her office window to look out on the bay and was surprised it was dark outside. The shop had been closed all day because of what had happened but the team had still been working—getting ready for the Holcom-Anders wedding tomorrow and trying to find out what had happened to Sonya Botero.

  Now, though, the place had taken on an eerie emptiness as she straightened her desk and picked up her purse to leave. She had done everything she could for the wedding tomorrow. She couldn’t just sit here but she didn’t want to go home, either. She was too anxious waiting to hear about the body that had been found in the river, to hear about Caroline’s condition, to hear more news about Preston Wellington III—or whoever he was.

  She headed for the door, not completely sure where she was going to go. She had Clare looking into Preston’s two companies.

  There was no one at the desk. The place looked deserted. She hadn’t realized how late it was. She couldn’t even be sure there was anyone left upstairs.

  For the first time since working here, she felt vulnerable as she walked to her car parked on the side of the building.

  Her car, like her and her cover, made a point of not standing out—white, midsize with few bells and whistles. It perfectly fit the Samantha Peters she’d become.

  But part of her wanted to take the black sports car and that was the part of her she was worried about as she got into the white sedan and checked the gun in her purse. Now, maybe more than ever, she needed to go unnoticed. Both by whoever had been following her and Alex. But mostly by Alex.

  She couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched as she reached into the secret compartment where she kept extra ammunition. She slipped another clip for her gun into her purse along with a small can of pepper spray. She really was feeling paranoid. But better to be safe than sorry. She started the car and pulled out.

  This part of town was always busy but she saw no one paying any attention to her. At least not that she could see. But that didn’t mean anything.

  As she pulled away from the shop, she watched to see if she was followed. She didn’t see a tail but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had taken even more interest in her after last night—an interest that now was deadly.

  She almost hoped she would pick up the tail as she drove around aimlessly for a good fifteen minutes before heading for the hospital. Whoever had tailed her and Alex last night had to be tied to Sonya Botero’s abduction or Caroline Graham’s hit-and-run. Or both, if they were connected. If she could catch whoever had been following her and Alex at least the team might get some answers.

  But she saw no one following her. Unfortunately, at this hour of the day, there were too many cars, making it easy for the tail to go unnoticed.

  After parking in the visitors section at the hospital, she tried Preston Wellington III’s phone number again. No answer. As futile as she feared it was, she left another message.

  Inside the empty elevator, she pushed the button for Caroline Graham’s floor and leaned back against the wall, her thoughts scattered in a hundred different directions. She had to tell Alex what she’d learned about Preston Wellington III. She knew he would be even more suspicious of how she’d come by the information and that worried her.

  But her biggest concern at this point was Caroline. If her fiancé had tried to kill her—

  The elevator door opened and she stepped off on Caroline’s floor. The nurses’ station was empty.

  The guard outside Caroline’s room was busy reading a book. He didn’t even look up. Samantha stuck her head into Caroline’s room. She was sleeping.

  The hallway was so quiet she heard the faint creak of a door opening as she neared Craig Johnson’s room.

  A doctor in surgical garb had come out of the stairwell. He didn’t even look in her direction as he stepped into Craig Johnson’s room.

  Samantha stood for a moment, trying to pinpoint what was bothering her about the doctor. Why was he dressed in surgical garb and wandering around the hospital? And why had he gone into Johnson’s room? Johnson didn’t need a surgeon.

  Had Craig Johnson been right to fear for his life?

  Chapter Eight

  As the surgeon disappeared into Craig Johnson’s room, Samantha quickened her step, all the time telling herself she was mistaken. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Why else had she let her guard down with Alex Graham?

  At the door to Johnson’s room, she hesitated, then throwing caution to the wind, she burst in.

  She heard a clatter and saw at once why. Someone had wedged one of the chairs under the knob. But the chair hadn’t held on the slick floor. It skittered across the linoleum to crash into the wall.

  Past it, she saw the doctor. He was struggling to hold the patient down, one arm locked around Johnson’s throat, the other clutching a hypodermic needle. Johnson was bucking on the bed, his face already turning blue, the hypodermic needle dripping a clear liquid.

  At the sight of Samantha, Johnson’s eyes bulged. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

  The doctor had spun around at the sound of the chair clattering to the floor. Samantha had her hand in her bag, but instead of her fingers closing around the gun, she felt the small can of pepper spray.

  She brought it out, but the man moved too quickly. He released Johnson and launched himself at her, the hypodermic needle raised in the air.

  She brought up the can of pepper spray, her finger fumbling for the button, as he grabbed for her. The spray caught him in the face. He let out of a howl of pain, now groping blindly for her.

  She stepped out of his reach to grab up the overturned chair, swinging it at him with one hand. It caught him in the knees. He stumbled and almost fell, catching himself awkwardly as he tripped and banged into the wall.

  He let out an oath and wiped frantically at his eyes with the sleeve of the surgical gown. His face was beet-red, his eyes running with tears, but his gaze found her.

  Her hand was shaking as she groped in her bag, this time coming up with the gun. She leveled it at him, ready to fire.

  He reached down and before she could fire, hurled the chair at her. She ducked but it caught her in the shoulder and knocked her back. She hit the floor hard, coming down on her butt, the gun still in her hand, though.

  Not that it mattered.

  The imposter doctor was gone. The door closing behind him.

  She struggled to get up, her limbs like water, her shoulder aching. This was the second time she’d been hit in two days. She felt out of her league, in pain and frustrated.

  Hurrying to the door, she looked out. The hallway was empty. The man was gone.

  Turning she looked to the bed and Craig Johnson. He appeared scared as hell but alive.

  “Are you all right?” she as
ked, realizing he hadn’t hit the call button for a nurse. Nor had he picked up the phone and called the police while she’d been trying to save his life or jumped in to help her. She felt a wave of anger wash through her as she moved to the bed.

  Johnson was sitting up in the bed, rubbing his throat, color coming back into his face as he sucked in deep breaths.

  She stepped to the call button, but he grabbed her hand before she could push it.

  “I’m all right,” he said hoarsely.

  “That man tried to kill you.”

  Johnson gave her a look that said he knew that better than she did.

  “Why would he want you dead?” she demanded.

  “How should I know?”

  “Because it has something to do with Sonya Botero’s abduction.”

  Johnson shook his head. “It is a private matter.”

  “We need to call the police.”

  “No. It is my business alone.”

  She didn’t believe him. “If this has something to do with Sonya Botero’s abduction—”

  “It is gambling debts. What do you care anyway?” He was eyeing her with suspicion. “You are that wedding planner and yet you carry pepper spray and a gun?”

  “Any woman who’s smart and lives and works in Miami does,” she shot back.

  “Stay out of my business, wedding planner.”

  “I just saved your life. I would think you would be more grateful.”

  “It isn’t the first time someone has tried to kill me for the money I owe. Nor will it be the last time.”

  “Sounds like a motive for kidnapping someone like Sonya Botero,” Samantha said.

  His eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to get involved in this.”

  “I got involved when I saved your life.”

  “Your mistake,” Johnson said and closed his eyes. “Now get out of my room and if you call the police I will deny everything.”

  “Yes,” she said tamping down the urge to shoot him herself. “You are very good at denying everything.”

  He didn’t open his eyes. Nor did he respond. She checked to make sure she had her gun and her pepper spray. Her eyes were burning from what little she’d sprayed as she left the room, letting the door close behind her.