Rich: Benson Security 5

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  “But it’s a wedding dress.” Her mother sounded outraged. “You can’t wear a wedding dress to a nightclub. The press will have a field day.”

  Samantha shrugged. “No, they won’t. They’ll think I’m being fashion-forward or something.”

  “I’m starving,” Harvard called through to them. “How much longer are we going to be? Should I order pizza?”

  The three women looked around at all the white dresses and, as one, they shouted, “No.”

  There was a groan before Harvard spoke again. “Rachel, I need a word.”

  “Not too long,” her mother said. “The designer will be here any moment to go over what you want.”

  “Oh, goody,” Rachel said as she stepped through the curtain, where she found Harvard standing and looking serious. “What’s wrong?”

  “Elle thinks she’s found something.” He ran a hand over his smoothly shaven head, and even though her stomach roiled at the thought of what Elle might have found, she still found herself wondering again what he’d look like if he grew his hair out.

  “Did she say what?”

  He shook his head. “She wants to talk in person.”

  Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “If I run out on this, I won’t need to worry about what the blackmailer might do next; Mother and Sam will kill me. You go see what she wants and call if you need me.”

  His wide hand clasped her neck. “I don’t like leaving you alone. I’ll call Ryan.”

  “Oh, please, no. Sam would either seduce him in the dressing room, or he’d get food on the dresses, or I’d beat him to death with my shoe. Or maybe my gun.”

  His lips quirked as his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Beat him with the gun? You know it shoots bullets, right?”

  “It was brought to my attention yesterday that I might have some issues actually hitting a target.”

  “Rachel,” he purred her name, his eyes heating, “we really need to deal with this violent streak of yours.”

  “But not today. Now go. I’ll be fine. Once we’re finished here, I’ll take a cab back to my place or over to Benson Security if I’m needed. In the meantime, I have Mother and Samantha to protect me.” She almost managed to stop from rolling her eyes at the thought of how useful either of them would be in a crisis.

  He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed the life out of her, leaving her dizzy and swaying in place while he sauntered out of the boutique.

  “Rachel,” her mother called, “you’d better not have left.”

  With a sigh, she returned to the fitting room.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “We found a shadow of information in the metadata files of the thumb drive itself,” Elle told Harvard once he was in the IT room at Benson Security. “Whoever deleted the metadata attached to the video forgot to write over the space in the trash area to wipe it out entirely.”

  “Or,” Harry said, looking like he hadn’t slept in days, “they didn’t know enough to clear out the trash storage area too.”

  With a nod of thanks, Harvard took the coffee Joe offered him. “What’ve we got?”

  “This.” Elle hit some keys and the screen on the wall filled with information.

  Harvard stilled as he read through the data, then let out a slow breath of a curse. “We sure?”

  “As sure as we can be,” Elle said tightly.

  Harvard turned to Joe. “We need to pick him up and have a chat with him. Do we have a location?”

  “Yeah,” his childhood friend said, looking every inch the dangerous former army ranger that he was. “Callum and Ryan already lifted him. He’s on his way. And he isn’t happy about it.”

  “Like we give a crap,” Elle snapped.

  Harvard put a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t enough to convict him. We need to be patient. To do this right. Otherwise, he’ll get away with it.” He turned to Joe. “You and Noah head over to his apartment and see what you can find.”

  “You’re talking breaking and entering; not sure Noah will be up for that. It ain’t like we have a warrant giving us permission to toss the house.”

  “It needs to be done. If Noah won’t do it, wait for Ryan. He won’t have any moral issues that’ll stop him from taking care of business.”

  Joe nodded. “You calling in Rachel?”

  Harvard glanced back at the screen and the one tiny line that had a name in it. “Not until we’re sure. The blackmailer’s played us all along; let’s make sure this information hasn’t been planted before we bring in Rachel.” Because if a member of her family was behind her attack, it would destroy her.

  “Elle, Harry, is there any way to check if this information was planted?” Harvard asked as Joe left the room.

  They shared a look where they almost seemed to communicate telepathically.

  “There’s a couple of things we could try,” Harry said at last.

  Elle’s attention went straight to her keyboard. “But if this is a stretch for us, I don’t think your blackmail suspect could do it.”

  “Let’s check anyway,” Harvard said as he pulled out his phone to text Rachel.

  When the text from Harvard came through, Rachel hoped it would get her out of the bridal boutique. Unfortunately, all it said was Nothing concrete yet. How are you doing?

  She tapped back: The designer was a bitch, and I should know one when I see one. Sam’s bought three dresses. Mother gave up on us and went home. We’re winding up with the designer from hell and then going back to my place. Sam has a folder full of wedding ideas that she HAS to show me.

  Sounds like a girls’ night. The fool said, having far too much fun at her expense. Go straight there and set the alarm once you’re both in. Don’t let anyone inside except a member of our team.

  A chill went through her, making her shiver. You think the blackmailer is someone I know well enough to let into my apartment?

  Just be extra cautious. I’ll be in touch as soon as I know more.

  She was grateful he didn’t sign off with heart emojis.

  “Everything okay?” Sam said as they hailed a taxi.

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “That’s our Rachel, able to take on the world without blinking an eye.” A cab pulled up, and Sam climbed into the back. “Hurry up. I want to show you my ideas before that hunky fiancé of yours gets home. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the wedding plans before they happen.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Rachel got in beside her. “It’s bad luck if he sees the dress. Not the wedding plans.”

  Sam patted her arm. “I agree that’s the case with most people. But for you, it’s probably best to play it safe.”

  Rachel just stared at her as the taxi headed through the streets of London to Hyde Park.

  Harvard stepped into Benson Security’s interrogation room and faced the man seated at the table. His suit was rumpled, and his hair stood on end from him running his hands through it. Harvard knew because he’d watched him do it through the one-way mirror while Callum briefed him on what had happened during the trip to pick up their suspect.

  “Harvard,” he said, looking relieved. “What’s going on? Two guys kidnapped me and brought me here. They wouldn’t tell me what was happening. But the Scottish one scared the crap out of me. Is this because of my debt? Because I’ve made arrangements to pay that back. I swear. I’m on top of it. I’ve stopped gambling. I’m serious about making a go of things at TayFor. Please, call off the dogs.”

  “No.” Harvard took a seat facing Rupert Talbot. “This isn’t about your gambling debt. This is about Rachel.”

  “Rachel?” Rupert turned gray. “Is she okay?”

  Harvard opened the folder he’d brought in with him and took out a copy of one of the photos that had been left for Rachel to find. “No. She’s not okay.”

  Rupert leaned forward to look at the photo. He gasped, and what little color remained in his skin drained away entirely. “What the hell?” he muttered. His hand shaking, he reached for the photo. His body swa
yed. And then he toppled sideways, falling off his chair and onto the floor—out cold.

  “What a fabulous idea to sit beside your pool while we did this,” Samantha said as she handed Rachel a glass of Merlot before settling into the lounger beside her.

  “It was your idea.” Rachel sipped her wine, glancing at the skylight above, where the remainder of the sunset turned the clouds pink.

  “That’s why it’s fabulous.” Samantha beamed as she drank from her own glass of champagne. “All of my ideas are fabulous.”

  “No one could ever accuse you of suffering from too much humility,” Rachel said, wishing she had more wine, as one glass wouldn’t be enough. She loved her cousin dearly, but she was in no mood to watch her gush over wedding ideas. “Where’s this folder of yours?” Rachel put her empty glass on the table beside her, feeling slightly light-headed as she did so. They should have eaten before they got into the wine.

  “Oh, blast. I must have forgotten it.” Sam didn’t seem bothered as she watched Rachel over the rim of her champagne flute.

  “Honestly,” Rachel said, tugging at the throat of her dress. The thermostat for the pool room had to be broken because the temperature seemed to be rising far too fast. “If you made up an excuse just so you could come up here and flirt with my fiancé, then you can leave right now. I don’t have the patience to put up with it.”

  “No.” Sam smiled widely, but her eyes were strangely cold. “I know that Harvard belongs to you. He seems to be just as faithful to you as the rest of your family. You’re very good at gaining the loyalty of the people around you, aren’t you, Rachel?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her head spun now, and all she wanted to do was lie down in a darkened room.

  “You’ve always been the darling of the Talbot clan, no matter how absolutely horrid you can be. It grated when I was a child, and I find it grates even more now I’m an adult. Why are you so popular? Do you have any idea? Because I’m at a loss.”

  Rachel placed a hand on her stomach. Something was wrong. Her brain felt cloudy and the room seemed to zoom in and out of focus. She tried to get up off the seat, but she just became more disoriented, so she sat back down. “You have to call someone,” she told her cousin. “I don’t feel very well.”

  Samantha didn’t seem to hear her. “You’re the one everybody hoped would lead the company one day. The one who inherited a title from your mother, one you don’t even bother using, so it’s completely wasted on you. Lady Rachel Ford-Talbot.” She sneered. “If anyone’s a Lady, it’s me. But no. The whole world revolves around Rachel. No matter what you do, you’re the favored child. You’re the one included in the traditions that pass from female to female. And when you’re in the room, all anyone can see is Rachel. Even after you were gone for ten years, you walked straight back into the company and had everyone talking about you taking over the helm one day soon. What about the rest of us? We’ve been there all along. But no, we don’t get a look in when you’re around.”

  “Sam, I don’t have the energy to deal with your hurt feelings right now. I can honestly say that I don’t try to steal your spotlight. I don’t even care about it. Now, will you please call the doctor? I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “And you never share,” Samantha continued to rant, growing more irate with each word. “Even that damn locket. It belonged to our great-grandmother, and it passed to you. I’m the only other female in the family that counts. Those bastard children from Theo’s many marriages don’t have the same stake in this family that I do. They don’t have my pedigree. I have just as much claim to our heritage as you. But no. It’s all about Rachel!”

  “For the love of Prada, if you want the bloody locket, take it.” She was about to pass out. She could feel it creeping into the edges of her consciousness. Sam had to call for help. There was something seriously wrong.

  “Oh, I don’t want it now,” Samantha said with a cruel smile. “Because, dear cousin, I know exactly where it’s been.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Want me to get a bucket of water?” Ryan sounded a little overeager as Harvard checked their detainee.

  “No, he’s coming around. You with us, Rupert?”

  There was a groan from the floor. “What?” His glazed eyes cleared somewhat. “Rachel. Dear God. Rachel.” He struggled to get up, and Harvard and Ryan helped him back into the chair.

  As soon as he was there, he flipped over the photo of Rachel’s attack so he couldn’t see the image, then rubbed his hands on his thighs. As if trying to remove the contact with the photo. “You think I did that?” Hysteria rose in his voice. “You think I…I…I can’t even say it! You think I sexually assaulted my own cousin?”

  “Ryan,” Harvard said to his teammate, who stood beside the door, “get Rupert a glass of water.” Before he emptied his stomach all over the floor.

  Ryan slipped out and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of water. He handed it to Rupert, who took a sip before grimacing.

  “Someone’s been sending Rachel photos of an attack that happened ten years ago,” Harvard said, keeping his voice low and calm. “When the photos didn’t get the desired result, they sent a video. My teammates hacked the data on the video, and it turns out it was taken with your phone.”

  “No,” Rupert said on a gasp. “No.” He vehemently shook his head. “I had nothing to do with this. Nothing. How can you even think that? She’s my cousin. I love her. This is…abhorrent.”

  Harvard sat back in his seat. “Somebody set up her rape. Somebody filmed it. Yours is the only name on the video file.”

  Rupert slapped the bottle onto the table, making the water splash out. “I’m telling you; I had nothing to do with this. I would never do something like that. Not to Rachel. Not to anyone. I don’t know how my name got on the file. If I did, I’d tell you.”

  The comm unit in Harvard’s ear sprang to life. “I think he’s telling the truth,” Lake said.

  Unfortunately, Harvard agreed. He leaned forward. “I need you to tell me everything about the night it happened.”

  “How am I supposed to know when that was?”

  “I’m going to tell you.” Harvard put that famed patience of his to good use. “It was the twenty-second of July, exactly ten years ago. Rachel was in London during college vacation and working as an intern at TayFor.”

  Rupert nodded furiously. “Yes. I remember. It was her last holiday before going into her final year. We spent the summer partying through London’s nightclubs. Until—” With a shaky hand, he lifted the water to his mouth and took a sip. He swallowed hard. “Until she suddenly cut everything short and moved back to Glasgow.” His eyes welled up, and it was clear he was fighting the urge to cry. “I thought she’d just had a better offer from her friend Harry. She left me a message saying he had a great idea for a business. One that would make them a fortune. And he needed her straight away.” A trembling finger pointed at the photo. “But this was why she returned?”

  Harvard nodded, feeling sorry for the guy. “Were you out together on that last night? The night before she left?”

  Rupert ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Back then, I spent most of my time drunk and on the pull. If I managed to pick up a girl, I often left Rachel and Sam to fend for themselves while I took my date home.”

  “Samantha?” Everything within Harvard stilled.

  Rupert nodded. “The three of us tore up London that year.”

  “Is it possible you were out clubbing the night this happened and that Samantha was there too?”

  Rupert looked horrified. “You don’t think my sister had anything to do with this?”

  “Just answer the question. Is it possible?”

  A tear ran down Rupert’s face. “What day of the week was the twenty-second of July?”

  “A Saturday,” Lake’s voice said in his ear.

  “Saturday,” Harvard told Rupert.

  “Then, yeah, the three of us were together.” The t
ears were falling hard now. “We went out every single Saturday that summer. It was a joke among the rest of the family, that’s why I remember. We didn’t miss a weekend.”

  Adrenaline coursed through Harvard as alarm bells sounded in his mind. “Could your sister have taken your phone and used it?”

  Bleak eyes met his. “Yes,” Rupert whispered.

  Harvard shot from the chair and was out of the door in a few long strides, the sound of Rupert’s sobs reverberating through the room behind him. Lake and Callum were waiting on the other side of the door.

  “Rachel’s alone with Samantha in her apartment,” he said, fighting to keep calm. To think clearly.

  “Call her,” Callum barked.

  His phone was already in his hand. He lifted it to his ear and waited as it rang to voice mail. A sense of dread filling him, he changed tactics and sent a text. It felt as though time was suspended as they waited for a reply. Rachel always replied. That damn phone of hers barely left her hand.

  At last, he looked up at the men he’d grown to respect. The men who cared for Rachel almost as much as he did. “There’s no reply.”

  And then they were running.

  “You?” Rachel gasped as the room spun around her. “You took the video? You were there?” She clutched the arm of her chair, silently begging for it not to be true.

  Samantha waved a dismissive hand and strode over to the bar in the corner of the room, where she casually poured herself another glass of champagne. “I knew it had to be something dramatic to get you to leave TayFor, just asking you to go wouldn’t do it. Nor would some embarrassing photos of you out partying. And I couldn’t think of anything else that would do the job.” She turned to lean against the bar. “I had hoped to find that you’d been dipping into the company drug stock, but you didn’t even dabble. You are such a goody two shoes.”