Rich: Benson Security 5
Page 21
With a sigh of regret, he gently shook her shoulder. “Rachel, time to wake up. Harry will be here in a couple of minutes.”
“Go away,” she mumbled into her pillow.
“Rachel, Harry’s coming. You need to get up.”
“Don’t care if the Queen’s coming. Need to sleep.”
He ran a hand over the curve of her hip. “He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something important to tell us.”
“Unless he’s got coffee, I don’t care.” She brought her hands up to clutch her pillow, as though worried he’d take it from her.
It was tempting to do what his mom had done when he wouldn’t get out of bed as a teen. A glass of cold water over your head once or twice was enough to sort that problem right out. But having just managed to get Rachel to admit they were an item, he didn’t want to kill the buzz by enraging her. Looked like he’d have to deal with Harry on his own.
Harvard stepped into yesterday’s pants, leaving the button undone, and reached for his phone—only to remember it was still in the guest room. Along with his gun. Some bodyguard he was turning out to be. Rachel had scrambled his brain.
He’d intended to run upstairs and get Harry settled, then return to the guest room to shower and change, but thumping on their bedroom door blew that plan to hell.
Throwing it open, he did a double take when he found not only Harry but also Elle and Ryan standing in the hallway. There was no way of hiding the sight of Rachel asleep and naked on the bed behind him. He could only be thankful that the sheet covered past her hips.
“You totally slept with each other,” Ryan said. “That’s not fair. We dissolved the bet, and I had a grand in it. I would have made a bomb.” He glared at Harvard. “You owe me.”
Meanwhile, Elle seemed particularly focused on his bare chest. Her hand came up and she reached for him. “Can I? Can I just touch?”
“No!” Ryan pushed her arm back down. “And stop drooling. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“But, he’s so pretty.” She batted her lashes at Harvard. “You don’t mind if I have a little touch, do you?”
“I do,” came the muffled shout from the bed. “Now, everybody, get the hell out of my bedroom.”
“Rachel?” Harry looked up from the iPad in his hand as though becoming aware of where he was standing. “Oh, good. I need to talk to you. I think I’ve found something.” And the fool actually tried to walk past Harvard and into the room.
“Later.” Harvard pushed him back out into the hallway. “First, you guys wait upstairs. Second, somebody make coffee. Third, I’ll shower and wake the beast.”
“Are you getting dressed too?” Elle asked, her eyes still on his chest.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” She sounded so disappointed that he burst out laughing.
“Go. I’ll be up in a minute. Don’t forget the coffee.” And then he jogged into the guest room.
Twenty minutes later, he was showered, shaved, and dressed for the day in jeans and a black tee. Ryan had made coffee, which was pretty damn good, and Harvard took a mug down to Rachel. She sniffed the air before sitting up, her eyes still closed and the sheet pooling at her hips.
“Gimme,” she ordered.
He placed the drink in her hands and stroked her hair. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to get upstairs, or I’m bringing the team down here, and we’ll sit on your bed to debrief.”
Her eyes opened a crack. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
She cocked her head. “Now that we’re in a relationship,” she said, using the same tone that she’d use to describe inferior knock-off designer wear, “you’d think you would be nicer.”
“Funny that,” he said as he strode to the door. “Fifteen minutes.”
She opened her mouth, no doubt to dump his sorry ass.
“Nuh-uh,” Harvard said. “We talked about this. No backing out just because you woke up in a bad mood.”
When her answer was a menacing growl, Harvard left her to it, wondering if he should have brought the whole coffee pot downstairs with him instead of just one mug.
It took Rachel close to forty-five minutes to get ready, and that was rushing it for her. She dressed for the day in white wide-legged trousers with a faint cream pinstripe, a white cashmere boatneck sweater, and four-inch pumps in cream. Her hair fell in a sleek waterfall over her shoulders, and she’d painted her lips a dark red. Around her throat, she wore her grandmother’s locket, and on her wrist, a thick platinum bracelet and on her hand was the engagement ring Harvard had given her.
Every time she slipped on the ring, she felt a warming well inside her. It was exactly the type of ring she’d have chosen for herself, and strangely, wearing it made her feel like Harvard was standing right beside her, even when he wasn’t. She shook off the strange bout of sentimentality; obviously circumstances were affecting her in ways she hadn’t imagined. And she wasn’t sure what to think or do about it.
With a toss of her hair, she swept out of her bedroom, ready to face whatever came her way.
“That’s what you wear on the weekend?” Ryan said as she sailed into the kitchen.
The team, plus Harry—who looked even more disheveled than usual—were seated around her dining table. Although she kept her eyes from Harvard, the glance she stole told her that he was looking at her with open affection, laced with a heavy dose of amusement. The man obviously didn’t know what circumspect meant. Which made her wonder what exactly they taught at the famous MIT.
“You look like you’re auditioning for Christmas angel in the school play,” Ryan said.
Rachel took in his rumpled T-shirt, with its faded print promoting something she’d never heard of, and his faded jeans. “Unlike you, I don’t roll out of bed and put on the first thing I find.” She pointed at his shirt. “And that isn’t how you spell deaf or leopard.”
“I can’t even,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “It’s like you live on a different planet.”
“Yes. One with clean clothes and decent manners. Now, for the love of Prada, use a napkin. You’re getting crumbs everywhere.”
Without taking his eyes from her, he lifted a large Danish pastry from his over-full plate and took a bite.
“And that there”—she pointed at him—“is exactly why you can’t keep a girlfriend.”
Harvard held up his hands. “Can we get on with this, or do I have to give you two a time-out?”
“She started it,” Ryan said with a grin.
Rachel just filled a mug with coffee, helped herself to one Danish pastry, and headed toward a seat far away from Harvard.
His eyes sparkling, he stood up and took the plate from her hand. “Let me help you.” He put it on the table beside his seat and pulled out a chair for her.
Elle and Ryan seemed to hold their breaths as they waited for her to eviscerate Harvard. But she had no intention of doing the expected. Instead, she said thank you and took the seat. She’d deal with him later.
As he settled beside her, Harvard looked over at Harry. “We’re ready when you are.”
When he didn’t respond, Elle leaned over and poked his arm. “We’re waiting,” she said.
“Oh, okay.” Harry looked around the table, and you could tell the exact second when the people present came into focus for him. He gave that goofy grin of his before sobering. “I think I know who stole the drug they used on Rachel.”
“So do I,” Elle said.
Harry’s head almost spun off his shoulders as he turned to her. “How?”
“Harvard told me you’d found corrupted data during a set time frame, so I pulled up staff for that period.”
“So, you don’t know the exact person, you just narrowed it down to a group of people?”
“Nope.” Her blue curls bounced around her face as she shook her hair. “I’ve dug around in some backgrounds and came up with a motive. I’m fairly sure I’ve got the right person.”
“Are you saying that I spent all ni
ght digging around in corrupted data, and it was pointless?” Harry frowned.
“How about”—Harvard leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table—“you both tell the rest of us who you think stole the drug.”
Harry nodded. “Okay, it was—”
“Terrance King,” Elle and Harry finished together.
Finding she’d lost her appetite, Rachel pushed the pastry away. “Are you sure? I didn’t even know him back then. I barely know him now.”
She sounded calm, and she felt weirdly calm too, as though disconnected from the conversation. But somewhere deep inside, questions kept bubbling up. Was he one of the men who’d attacked her? Had he taken the photos? Had he set all of this up?
“Why?” she said. “I don’t understand the why.”
Elle opened her laptop and tapped at the keyboard before turning it toward the rest of them. “This is why.” She pointed to an image of a young woman, a teenager, walking with a younger version of Terrance King. He had his arm around her waist as they gazed into each other’s eyes like lovers would. “That’s Angelina Smith; she was seventeen when this was taken. Terrance was in his forties and still working with the police. He was also married.”
“What’s that got to do with me? I was a few years older than her when I was attacked, and I honestly don’t recognize the girl.”
“It’s not who she is that’s important,” Elle said. “It’s what she represents.”
Harvard slid a hand over Rachel’s shoulder to her nape, but instead of brushing him away, she found the gesture strangely settling. “Blackmail,” he said to her. “Whoever’s blackmailing you, probably used this affair to blackmail Terrance.”
“Exactly.” Elle hit some keys, and the screen changed, bringing up several photos and a written report. “I used our connections to private investigators in London and found a firm who was more than happy to help once they knew this was personal. I had to promise to keep their name out of it though. Nobody trusts a PI who shares information.”
Harvard nodded, his hand still warm and solid on Rachel’s neck. “Understood. What did they tell you?”
“That round the same time Terrance decided to quit the force and apply for the security position at TayFor, someone contacted them and asked them to investigate the man.” She picked up her coffee and took a sip. “Nothing unusual, you might be thinking. It’s routine for TayFor to check out their staff, especially security staff. But this didn’t come through official channels. In fact, TayFor’s name was nowhere near the job contract. The whole thing was done in secret. They didn’t have a client name, just money up front, a contact number and a contract signed by a lawyer who was hired just for that purpose.”
“So, someone used a private investigator to dig up dirt on Terrance.” Rachel felt ill even saying his name. “And then used the fact he was having an affair with a schoolgirl to blackmail him into getting them the drug?”
“That about sums it up,” Elle said.
“Which brings us back to our belief that someone inside TayFor is behind all this,” Ryan said. “Otherwise, how would they know Terrance had applied for a position with them and that he’d be in a place where he could help the blackmailer?”
Harry nodded. “They must have approached him before he got the job at your family’s company. Because the theft of the drug and the attempted cover-up on the server happened just a week or so after he started there.”
Rachel looked up at Harvard. “Do you think the person who hired him is the same one who organized my attack?”
“Hard to tell.” He caressed her neck with his thumb. “Could just be somebody who took advantage of the opportunity to use the new guy.” He caught Ryan’s eye. “We bring him in and talk to him. Give Joe a call; see if he’s free to back you up. I want Terrance in the Benson Security holding room this morning.”
“And if he doesn’t agree to come along nicely?” Ryan’s face said he already knew the answer.
“Convince him.” Harvard’s voice was steel. Looking somber, he turned to her. “We need to tell the rest of Benson Security before we turn up with this guy. It’s time to bring everyone else up to speed. You okay with that?”
Rachel nodded. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t thought of herself. “You may tell whomever you choose.”
“I’m happy to tell people if you don’t want to.” His gaze softened.
Which just annoyed her. She didn’t need pity. Nor did she want it. “It’s not like I’m ashamed to tell them, I just don’t want to waste time repeating the story again and again.”
“But it’s okay to waste my time?” His eyes sparkled with amusement.
“It’s one of the perks that come with being in a relationship with me. Aren’t you glad you got what you so desperately wanted?” When she looked back at their team, they were staring at her openmouthed. She let out an irritated sigh. “Apparently we’re in a real relationship instead of a fake one. Don’t get all excited and start poking your noses in. It’s unlikely to last.”
With that, she got up from the table and went to fetch more coffee.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Terrance King sat at the table in Benson Security’s interrogation room. Or, as they told anyone who asked, their basement interview room. Whatever they called it didn’t change the fact that this room was soundproofed, installed with cameras and a one-way mirror, and only opened from the outside. The table and chairs were bolted to the floors and the only way out was through one of the Benson Security staff.
Adjacent to this was a surveillance room. Which was currently overflowing with testosterone and badass attitude. On hearing about Rachel’s past, it seemed the men of Benson Security had all decided to take over her life. Apparently, she wasn’t even needed in the discussion on how best to approach Terrance King’s interrogation.
The longer the men argued, the more Rachel eyed up the weapons storeroom and wondered how quickly she could tase them all and shut them up. Hell, she doubted they’d even notice she was missing until they were suddenly jolted with enough electricity to reboot their Neanderthal brains.
“I’ll talk to him,” Lake Benson said with absolute authority.
The former special forces officer, who’d started the company that bore his name, faced off against the rest of his team. He’d been in London, helping out on another Benson Security job, and for some reason, as soon as he’d heard about her past, he’d decided to postpone his return trip to Scotland and stick around to “help.” Rachel had no idea why.
“To hell with that,” Callum McKay, her other partner, snapped back. “The London office is mine. You put me in charge when you dragged me into this business. Now get out of my way and let me do my bloody job.”
“I think,” Harry piped up, taking his life into his hands by getting between two former SAS men, “that I should talk to him. I’m the one who found out he’s involved.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ryan demanded. “You aren’t even part of Benson Security anymore. You sold your stake. I’m the one who should interrogate him. I know him best because I’ve been stuck working with his arrogant arse for weeks. He’ll let down his guard with me.”
Joe Barone and Noah Merchant, two of Harvard’s childhood friends, started talking at the same time.
“I’m an ex-cop,” Noah said. “I spent my career interrogating suspects. Trust me, you want me in there.”
“I just want to punch him until he talks.” Joe glared through the glass of the one-way mirror, to where Terrance sat relaxed in his chair.
Harvard, who’d been silently leaning against the far wall during the discussion, his arms folded and ankles crossed, flashed a smile at Joe before catching Rachel’s eye. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she jerked her head toward the door. When he nodded once, Rachel slipped outside. If anyone noticed her leaving, they said nothing.
A few seconds later, Harvard stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “What do you want to do?”
He nodded. “Then lead the way.”
Grateful that he hadn’t asked her if she was up to the task, Rachel punched in the code to open the interrogation room door and stepped inside. She had to fight the urge to grin at the mirror, where no doubt all the men on the other side stood with their mouths hanging open. At least this would have shut them up.
“Terrance,” Rachel said as she took a seat opposite him, “I’d like to tell you something.”
He shot a wary glance at Harvard before glaring at her. “I hope you’re going to tell me why the hell you’ve got me locked up in here. I thought I was coming in for a team meeting. To discuss the thefts. You’d better not be planning to pin this on me. I’m no thief.” He practically spat out the last word.
“Well”—Rachel crossed her legs—“that isn’t exactly true, is it? I mean, we suspect you have nothing to do with the current spate of thefts. But you’re very much responsible for the ketamine and Rohypnol that went missing ten years ago, aren’t you, Terrance?”
If she wasn’t mistaken, he paled under his fake tan. Although, it was hard to tell. That tan was very orange.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he protested. “Let me out of here at once. This setup is illegal. I’ll have the Metropolitan Police down on you lot before you can snap your fingers.”
“Good.” She folded her arms and drummed her red fingernails against the white of her sweater. “While you’re at it, you can explain to them why you stole date rape drugs from TayFor and then tried to cover your tracks by deleting all record of your presence in the research facility on the day the drugs went missing.”
“I see what this is.” He pointed at each of them in turn. “You’re trying to pin an old crime on me in the hopes that people will think I’m behind the new thefts too. This is nothing more than a pathetic attempt to protect your family. This is amateur hour; you don’t have a clue what you’re doing. Or who you’re trying to do it to. I have connections. You won’t get away with this. You know nothing. It’s all lies.”