Sweet Reward: A Last Chance Rescue Novel

by Christy Reece

  nine

  Ricard Foundation headquarters

  Paris

  Josette Fitzgerald took a giant bite of her tuna sandwich, followed it with a bite of pickle, and munched contentedly as she reviewed the entries she’d just made. Hopefully, the meal would give her the stamina to go on for a few more hours without making her too sleepy. Her day job as a salesclerk for a small dress shop wasn’t usually overly taxing. However, several city celebrations were coming up, so the shop was even busier than usual. One particularly demanding customer had taken almost three hours of her day, and then the woman had left without buying anything.

  Since she wasn’t paid on commission, she hadn’t lost any money, but still, the time and care she’d given the woman had exhausted her. For the first time ever, she’d had to force herself to come to her part-time evening job.

  This was actually her favorite of all the part-time jobs she’d had. Inputting numbers and checking data for a large children’s charity felt like she was doing something helpful. She couldn’t afford a donation, and she couldn’t afford not to be paid. However, the pay wasn’t much compared to the effort she put into her job, so, in her own, very small way, she was making a contribution.

  And no job could be less stressful. She’d been working at the Ricard Foundation for almost three months, and so far she had seen only a handful of people. Usually by the time she got here, almost everyone had gone home for the evening. Josette liked the quiet. Living in a small house filled with a variety of relatives made the silence all the more peaceful.

  She took another bite of sandwich and washed it down with a swallow of soda. She scanned the screen, frowning as her eyes stuttered over an oddity. A large amount of money had been deposited into an old, dormant account and then withdrawn a few hours later. Probably someone had just entered the information wrong, but where had the money gone?

  Josette clicked through several pages of entries, looking for the funds. Could they have been divided up and posted to separate accounts? That was a possibility; still, she’d better mention it to someone. Trying to bilk a charity out of 100,000 euros was just wrong. She’d tell Paul Raymond, her supervisor, tomorrow. He would know what to do.

  Jared couldn’t believe how quickly Mia had fallen asleep or how beautiful she looked. She’d been in the middle of a sentence and had just stopped talking. He’d been sitting across from her, reading an article about one of the abductions. When she’d stopped talking, he’d automatically looked up, wondering why she hadn’t finished. And there she’d been, her head collapsed on the pillow she’d been leaning against, the pen she’d been using to write notes still clutched in her hand.

  Stupid really, but the fact that she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence touched him somehow. He didn’t inspire restfulness or trust in most people. He could count on one hand the number of women who’d fallen asleep while he’d been around. Of course, some of that had to do with his self-imposed rule of not sleeping with his bed partners. Since he wasn’t one for after-sex cuddling, most of the women were never given a chance to fall asleep.

  Now that he knew Mia was a trained operative, he was even more curious about her. Each time she revealed something about herself, no matter how small, he came up with about twenty questions. He didn’t like that. Who people were and what they did with their own lives were their business. Knowing others’ secrets created an intimacy … a connection. So why the hell did he want to know Mia’s?

  He told himself it was because she was such an enigma. Who wouldn’t want to know more about a woman who had the skills and training to kill but looked as though she should be reading a fairy tale to a bunch of toddlers? Yeah, he’d worked with beautiful women who were damn dangerous too, but they’d had an air of danger about them. Mia seemed sweet and artless—too damn vulnerable.

  Inwardly cursing his absorption with her, he went back to the words on his laptop screen. They’d been working on the list for hours and had narrowed it down to three organizations. Two were legitimate corporations that had a few questionable dealings with underground organizations. Nothing could be proven. So far, other than nasty rumors that had created some doubts about their ethics, the corporations continued to function profitably. The third one made the other two look like church groups.

  Boyd Fuller, the dead sleaze who’d tried to kill Mia and who’d apparently been responsible for the missing children in Chicago, had connections to all three. He’d worked directly but briefly for one, and for two others had done some freelance work. All seemingly legitimate work, but again, the intersection of their questionable ties and his obvious guilt was too damn coincidental.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. Mia shifted slightly as her head burrowed deeper into the pillow. He should probably go home and try to grab a few hours himself. When she shifted again, he wondered if she was cold. The temperature was comfortable for him, but more than one lover had told him that he had some kind of internal furnace. The cold never bothered him.

  Jared went to his feet and grabbed a throw she’d draped over a chair. The thought hit him that he could carry her to her bed, where she would rest easier, but he knew better than that. The woman was a trained operative and would be alert in a flash, ready to fight. He’d just as soon not have an aching jaw to go along with his sore nose.

  Gently, so he wouldn’t wake her, he covered her body and backed away. The temptation to brush his fingers down the creamy skin of her face was a surprise. A prelude to sex was the only reason he touched a woman. Not that he didn’t find her desirable. Hell, just being close to her caused way too many feelings of the sort he’d successfully suppressed for years. Damned if he needed the complication of getting involved with a woman like Mia Ryker.

  Jared headed to the door and then stopped at the sound of a soft sigh. Turning back, he watched as she snuggled deeper into the sofa, pulling the throw tighter around her body. Something clutched in his chest. It was probably only because of her exhaustion that she hadn’t woken. Still, the level of trust she was showing him did something to him.

  He checked his watch: a little after three. If he went home now, he’d be too keyed up to sleep. Might as well do a little more research and catch a nap later on today. As he settled back into the chair, he refused to consider that one of the reasons he wanted to stay was because of the woman sleeping across from him. She was a co-worker. Nothing more. Besides, she’d probably wake early, which meant they could get to work sooner.

  With his laptop back in front of him, Jared went to another search engine and continued to follow Boyd Fuller’s trail. An interesting article caught his attention, one that seemingly had nothing to do with Fuller. Probably just another dead end, but he followed the thread. The longer he followed and the more he dug, the more interesting things became.

  A video recording of a speech made a couple of years ago caught his attention. Jared plugged in earphones and listened, becoming even more intrigued as an idea formed in his head. Was this really possible?

  He sat up straighter, grabbed pen and paper, and began to jot locations and ties. When he finished writing, he tore the sheet from the pad and went to a white flip chart Mia had set up earlier. His drawing skills were meager at best, but twenty minutes later, he stood back and stared hard at what he had created. Hell, either his brain was so tired it was seeing connections that weren’t there, or he was right, and they had themselves a brand-new suspect. And if so, they also had a damn big problem.

  Mia blinked her heavy eyelids and looked blearily around to gather her wits. Where was she? When her eyes stopped on the man only a few feet from her, comprehension and memory returned. She and Jared were working together to narrow down suspects. And she had fallen asleep with him still in the apartment? Would wonders never cease?

  He was frowning at the screen of his laptop, totally unaware that she was awake. Taking advantage of this opportunity to fully appreciate the beauty of the man was something she couldn’t resist. His coal-b
lack hair was shorter than when she’d first met him and looked incredibly thick. Those silver eyes, when focused on her, did something to her blood pressure and she had the hardest time concentrating. He had a swarthy complexion and exotic cheekbones that brought to mind visions of pirates from centuries ago. The stubborn, almost squared chin was a good indication that he rarely backed down. That wasn’t a surprise … the dimple in that chin was. And though all LCR operatives were in excellent shape, Jared’s broad shoulders were an indication of amazing strength.

  Yes, he was an extremely handsome man—incredibly easy on the eye. Years ago, Mia had learned that good looks were inconsequential. Character mattered much more than a handsome face. So why was she so attracted to him? He was rude, seemed to have no sense of humor, and had made it more than clear that he didn’t trust her. Still, she remembered that he’d held her when she was crying about Spunky’s death; he had wanted to stay and make sure she was okay. And he’d been a good sport about being knocked to the floor. Had even barked out a rusty-sounding laugh of approval. If that had happened to her, she was sure she wouldn’t have been amused.

  He looked up then, and those eyes pierced her. “How long are you going to stare at me?”

  Well, hell, this was the second time she’d been caught admiring him. Her only consolation was that at least she hadn’t drooled.

  Since she had no explanation for staring, other than the truth, she asked, “Have you been working all night?”

  He shrugged those broad shoulders she’d been admiring. “I’ll catch a nap later today.”

  “Did you find anything more?”

  He frowned and looked back at his screen. “Yeah. But not anyone on our original list.”

  Her drowsiness vanished in a snap, and she sat up. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “At least I think so. Screen’s kind of blurry right now.”

  “Why don’t I make some coffee?” She grimaced, suddenly embarrassed by her lack of manners. “I should have offered my bed. I mean, I have an extra bed … and a shower. If you’d like to freshen up.”

  Crap, she was back to chattering again. And that flicker of heated awareness in his eyes hadn’t helped.

  Thankfully, he didn’t remark on her awkward invitation. He stood and said, “Yeah, thanks,” and headed to the guest bedroom. Apparently, he already knew where it was. That disturbed her: he’d obviously walked around her apartment while she’d been sleeping, and she hadn’t heard him. But her shivers of arousal at the intense look he’d given her troubled her more.

  Shaking her head with denial, Mia busied herself making coffee. Hopefully, a strong shot of caffeine would erase these totally crazy thoughts from her mind. There were a million and one reasons not to get involved with someone like Jared Livingston. They were way too different, for one thing. She loved to laugh and Jared had no sense of humor. He was all dark and brooding and she did her best to maintain a bright, sunny attitude. He was blunt, way past the point of rudeness. And to make matters even more impossible, they lived thousands of miles from each other.

  She poured a cup of strong, hot liquid and took a bracing sip. No, there was absolutely no way she could become involved with someone like him.

  A sound brought her head up. Jared was standing at the entryway to the kitchen: black hair wet and gleaming, a towel draped over his bare shoulders, barefoot, and wearing only a pair of jeans.

  Attractive? The word lost all meaning. Hands down, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life. A small, dim voice whispered all the reasons she couldn’t get involved with him, along with the reminder that looks meant nothing; Mia successfully ignored the voice.

  As if he hadn’t noticed that her cup was stopped halfway to her mouth and her eyes were as wide as saucers, he asked, “Okay if I use one of your razors?” He rubbed his hands over the stubble on his face.

  Thankful that a nod could answer his question, Mia felt her head go up and down.

  He nodded his thanks and poured himself a cup of coffee. Then, his mouth inches from her ear, so close that his warm breath teased her, he whispered, “Mia, your coffee’s getting cold.”

  Heat zoomed through her body, and forbidden images and fantasies appeared in her head. Before her frazzled mind could come up with something remotely appropriate, he walked away. And though she told herself not to, her eyes followed him until he disappeared.

  Holy smokes. Not only was she attracted to this gorgeous yet oh-so-very-rude man, but he knew she was. Now what was she going to do?

  Jared took a swallow of the admittedly damn good coffee and set it down. Sweeping the little pink razor along his soapy face, he avoided looking at his eyes. He knew what he would see. An acknowledgment of something he couldn’t have. So what if she was attracted to him? Plenty of women, through the years, had found him appealing for one reason or the other. He sure as hell hadn’t slept with all of them. And there’d been a damn sight more that he had been attracted to and had not slept with—Mia would be just one more.

  He rinsed the razor, brought it up to his face for another glide, caught the expression in his eyes he’d been avoiding, and could no longer deny the truth. Mia was different. Everything she did made him want to know more. She said she didn’t like to talk about her family, and he wanted to know why. Sometimes she’d get a faraway look in her eyes and he’d want to ask her what she was thinking. Hell, even when she yawned, he wanted to ask her if she was tired. He’d never met anyone more intriguing.

  Discipline and control had been the cornerstone of his existence for as long as he could remember. He never did anything by accident or on impulse. Even sex. If he set out to seduce a woman, he succeeded. Total focus and concentration ensured success. Sex with a woman was no different.

  Wiping his face, Jared took advantage of the unopened toothbrush and toothpaste Mia had placed on the counter, figuring she’d put it there for guests. Even something that minute and inconsequential gave him a slight pause. Years ago, he’d learned to never take anything without asking. And though that had been a lifetime ago, those kinds of lessons were some of the hardest to overcome.

  After brushing his teeth, he shrugged into his shirt and then finger-combed his still-damp hair, barely glancing at the results. So what that she liked his physical appearance. That was a distraction he could do without. And his attraction to her was no reason for concern. The discipline he’d honed over the years would ensure that he wouldn’t give in to temptation.

  Denial of personal needs was his way of life. Mia would be just one more thing he could easily resist.

  So why did he hear a mocking voice in his head whispering, “Famous last words”?

  ten

  Ricard Foundation headquarters

  Philippe Ricard stood at the head of the giant oblong table and watched the members of his board of directors argue with one another. He would wait until all of their petty and worthless comments had been given. He was a man of patience. Let them have their say … then he would have the last word.

  They had to approve this new wing for the children’s hospital. It had been on his family’s agenda for years—another testament to his family’s legendary philanthropy and another jewel in his crown as the greatest philanthropist in modern times. This project had to be done. He refused to accept any other outcome. All of their insipid excuses for delaying the project were unacceptable. Using lack of funds as their most valid reason was ridiculous.

  Their silly arguments whirled around him. “We spent too much money on the new medical equipment for that clinic in India.” “We didn’t get as many donations this year as we did last year.” “We went over budget on that school in Nairobi.”

  They sounded like a large gathering of wild birds, cawing about this and that. He’d been running his family’s corporations for years and had heard these excuses every single time he’d proposed a large project. This was nothing new. And as he had in previous years, he would win this argument, too.
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br />   “Ladies and gentlemen, can we please turn our focus to how we’re going to achieve our goal, as opposed to the reasons we can’t?”

  The harried voice of Jacques Ricard, Philippe’s cousin, barely penetrated the cacophony of sound that filled the room.

  Philippe shot a kind but pitying glance to his cousin. The man didn’t command the kind of respect Philippe did, which was one of the many reasons his mother had left Philippe in charge of the foundation. Jacques was an idea man and did great things behind the scenes. Philippe, with his commanding personality, good looks, and charm, could sway anyone to his way of thinking.

  The arguments grew more heated and vocal; Jacques was looking more anxious by the second. Moving slowly, so he wouldn’t attract attention until he was ready, Philippe picked up the gavel lying on the table in front of him. Though it was always there for his use, he rarely required it. Besides, overusing such tools made them much less effective. This time, though, instead of banging it on the table, as he’d done in the past, he felt the need for a more dramatic statement.

  Aiming at the large globe light fixture that sparkled only a few feet away from the group of hagglers, Philippe let the gavel fly. A second later, a loud explosion was followed by a rain of shattered glass. Screams, shouts, and curses exploded as a dozen button-downed, tight-assed executives, moving faster than they probably had moved in years, scooted away from the broken glass.

  “What the hell are you doing, Philippe?”

  Philippe made sure his expression was one of cold determination as he let his eyes travel to each of the horrified members of the board. “This discussion is at an end. The wing will be built. Hundreds of children and their families are depending upon us. I don’t care how you get it done. Just do it.”