He let a few charged seconds pass. When she didn’t finish her thought, he said drily, “The one that fit the locks you changed four years ago?”
She punched his arm. “Do you always have to be so damned logical?”
He grinned, pulling her to his chest, stroking her hair. “I figure you’re not yelling at me because you’ve already reached the same conclusion.”
She took a deep breath, sat back in her seat, and stared at nothing. “I think I’ve had a small mental breakdown. My life feels like a soap opera.”
“Hell, Quinn your life’s been a soap opera since that nut in the garage. My money’s on him for your dead battery...and the attack on the golf course.”
“No, no, no.” She shook her head. “No, no. Huh-uh. You were that target. Your house was vandalized. The Jeep belongs to Tony. Whether or not he mowed me down on The Plaza, we know he played chicken with us yesterday afternoon.”
Spasms under Pierce’s bleak eyes stopped her. She laid her hand on his morning stubble, careful not to press the sharp whiskers into his cheek. She didn’t have the heart to remind him about Tony’s confession. About his missed date with Brittany. About a mind so brilliant he could outwit dull imaginations, outsmart security systems, and outmaneuver a trusting mentor.
Air whooshed out of Pierce’s lungs, and she imagined the dread crawling into his gut. “Okay. His confession...the attempted head-on with us...They make the circumstantial evidence more damning. But I still don’t see a motive or means for him to leave you that note.”
“Only one of the mysteries we have to solve.”
He nodded, took her hand and kissed her palm, shooting electricity into her veins. “One mystery we don’t have to solve...Brittany’s place in my life. She’s in my past, you’re in my future.”
His pause invited Quinn to jump in, but she called on years of practicing tai’chi and slowed her heart rate. She’d always thought her father was in her future. Turned out he was in her past. Not an irony she wanted to discuss with Pierce.
He tipped her head back, balancing her chin on his thumb and index finger. “I hope you believe me, but if you don’t, I intend to walk the walk. Understand?”
Because she longed to believe him, she said the words he wanted to hear. “I understand.”
He apparently missed her ambivalence and started the engine without pushing her. The steady whap of their tires on the salted asphalt let her mind twist back to thinking about the note. Michael, not Pierce, was the logical person to talk to about the secret they’d kept buried as kids.
Pierce squeezed her hand. “Don’t let my past hard-ass reputation fool you. I’m not going to ask to read the note, okay?”
Her stomach and heart and lungs expanded. His reassurance soothed the dryness in her throat with honeyed surprise. They weren’t going to argue. Capitulation without an argument was a first with Pierce. He loved to argue.
Loved more to win.
Suspicion wiggled into her, infecting the tendril of hope she’d started nursing. Had he laid a trap for her? Was he waiting for her to toss out a smart-ass comeback he’d have to return? Then she’d go on the offensive, and their cycle of verbal lobs and volleys would intensify. Dammit, could he resist ragging her to read the note? Could she trust him?
Her throat closed. His jaw remained relaxed, his hands easy on the steering wheel, his gaze focused on the street. No signs of deceit.
“Okay.” She nodded. He either understood or he didn’t. She wasn’t elaborating. Not when she still had to tell him she’d invited Rex.
An honest oversight, Dr. Freud.
****
Two clothes bags weighing at least a ton tested Pierce’s arm muscles, but he stood like a patient bellboy at the lobby desk and listened as Quinn chatted with Joe about The Bash that night. Pierce managed to bite back a snort as she added two new names to the list of attendees.
They entered the elevators with his heart rate stampeding. He said zip, giving her a chance at explaining. She punched her floor, then set her shoe case and makeup bag at her feet.
“I’ll state the obvious.” Lips pursed, she imet his gaze head-on. “I should’ve told you earlier about inviting Rex. I started to—last night. But we got distracted.”
Her tone softened on distracted, and he assumed she meant making love was the diversion. In spite of being pissed, he grinned.
“I should’ve told you after I found the note.” The elevator stopped, and she mashed the OPEN button. A good sign she didn’t want to maim him? “Or maybe after I invited Brittany.”
The small jab nicked his thin skin, but did no real damage. He held onto their clothes as Quinn unlocked the door to her office and turned on the lights.
“I meant to thank you for asking her,” he said. “Under the circumstances, you went above and beyond. I guess, under the circumstances, I can give you a break on inviting Rex.”
“Generous of you.” She took her bag from him and hung it in the coat closet.
“Mr. Generosity. That’s me.” He put his hanging bag next to hers, told himself she didn’t need more grief, and faced her. He wanted to grab her. Kiss her. Hold her. Reassure her they’d find whoever left the note. Lying felt wrong, so he went with hooking a stray chunk of hair behind her ear. “Tony’s confession doesn’t change how I feel about the weas—Rex. But I’ll steer clear of him tonight. It’s one way I can thank you for helping with this fiasco.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes. For a second, he thought she’d come into his arms. Instead, she threw him a shaky smile, stood straighter and gave him a high five.
Not a gesture he’d ever expected from the woman who drilled clients in delivering firm, no-nonsense handshakes before sending them out on interviews.
Pierce figured work offered the best way to push the damned note out of her mind. Work offered him the best way to act like an intelligent adult instead of like a horny teenager. In his office, he asked Quinn to search Tony’s desk. He’d go over the books one more damned time.
But he couldn’t forget she was nearby. He got up after the first hour, unsure he wasn’t dreaming. She threw him a keep-your-distance look and kept digging in a bottom drawer. Reassured she wasn’t brooding over the note, he reset his brain and returned to his office.
There had to be a clue. Anything. Something he’d overlooked the first dozen times.
Two hours later, dry-eyed, brain buzzing, the only clue Pierce had was he didn’t have a clue what he was looking for. The proverbial needle was moving in the proverbial haystack. Reams of paper—mostly computer printouts—covered the long conference table, credenza, chairs, sofa, floor. And more where that came from.
A yawn propelled him to his feet. He kneaded the cramped muscles in his low back, ready to take a break. Enjoy—
“Pierce.” Quinn appeared in his door, her face rosy, her hands behind her back like a kid hiding a treasure. “Look what I found.”
Excitement vibrated off her. Pierce came from around his desk. “Does it clear Tony?”
A nearly imperceptible slump of her shoulders gave him the first warning. Her hesitation confirmed his question was all wrong. His hope misplaced.
“I’m sorry.” She held out a small silver jeweler’s box.
“Open it, will you?” He didn’t trust his shaky fingers.
Her jaw closed, but she opened the hinged box.
“Jesus!” Disbelief ricocheted around in his head like a racquet ball. “Diamonds big enough for Elizabeth Taylor.”
“Think Oprah. She’s the diamond earring fashionista. Elizabeth Taylor’s dead.”
“Any idea what earrings like these cost?”
“Sixty-seven thousand eight hundred and ninety dollars.” She dug a sheet of folded paper from her pocket, smoothed it flat and gave it to him. “I found the receipt and the earrings buried in his top drawer. Along with a card addressed to Brittany.”
“Holy shiiit.” Pierce read the amount on the receipt—paid for in cash—shook his head, felt his guts
twist. “What the hell was he thinking?”
“That he loved her?” Quinn showed him the signed card. With all my love forever, Tony. “He wanted to show her he’d spend the big bucks on her. Wanted to show you...”
Pierce ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. “Makes no sense.”
“Not to you, not to me maybe, but...” Quinn took pity on him and stopped.
“He didn’t have to embezzle five million bucks to afford those earrings. I pay—paid—him enough he could afford double the price. He drives a Jeep for God’s sake.”
Quinn looked away, but not before Pierce read more pity in her eyes. He could hear her thinking, Pathetic.
He drives a Jeep...God, what a stupid, illogical and pathetic comment.
“Call Brittany. Tell her to take a cab here,” Quinn said in that sweet, gentle voice mothers used with their bullied five-year-old sons. “Get nosy. Find out what else he’s given her. Ask the price of that pendant. I’ll see if I can hack into his computer files.”
His lizard brain grabbed onto the ideas as if they might save Tony. He gave Quinn the go-ahead and went back into his office to call the Marriott. It took him a minute or two before he could see to Google the number.
Jesus, Tony. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Means and motive to steal guaranteed receiving a long prison sentence and breaking the hearts of two of the finest parents Pierce had ever met. For what? For Brittany?
Whatever Brittany said, would he understand how Tony had derailed? Asking personal questions could lead to asking intimate questions he didn’t want to ask. Pierce rubbed the back of his neck, exhaled, and reached for the phone.
“Oh, hello.” Brittany made no attempt to hide her disappointment.
Pierce sidestepped asking the obvious and said, “Grab a taxi. Come to the office. Look at something we’ve found.”
“What?” Her tone flat, without interest.
“I’d like you to see it.” A metallic edge of impatience sharpened his tone.
“Can’t you bring it to the hotel? What if Tony calls?”
Pierce tipped the silver box sideways. The earrings dangled in an anemic ray of sunshine slanting across his desk. The light splintered into red and green and gold shards. “Won’t he call your cell?”
“I...I don’t want to risk missing a call.” Tears muffled her voice.
And I don’t want to risk hurting Quinn. He shook his head as if Brittany could see the gesture. “Ask the hotel to forward your calls to your cell phone.”
Her sigh was long, dramatic—a reminder of a trait he remembered too well. When he said nothing—as he’d generally done when she’d pouted during their short-lived affair—she sighed again.
He waited a beat before saying, “See you in fifteen minutes.”
“Wait!” Her voice rose to a wail. “Could you at least come get me? I’d like to talk to you...alone. Without Quinn around.”
“Why?”
“Quinn hates me. Not that I blame her...I know she asked me to her party, but I don’t feel comfortable...I’ll wait in the lobby. You don’t have to come inside.”
“Fifteen minutes.” He hung up, stood and straightened his shoulders. What the hell? He liked walking through fire.
****
“Just a sec.”
Pierce was glad just to watch Quinn as her fingers flew across the keyboard at Tony’s desk. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, her eyes bright.
Her strangled cry scared hell out of him. He jumped over a couple of paper mounds like a startled goat, nearly breaking his damned neck to get to her.
“I’ve got it. I’ve got it. I’ve got it.” She pumped her fist in the air.
“Better be damned good,” he groused. “I came close to having a coronary.”
“Ooohhh, poor baby.” She shuffled through a thick file and removed a single sheet of paper she studied as if he’d disappeared. “Ever heard of BOT Nets?”
“Short for remotely controlled software. RoBOTS, right?” Talking blurred fantasies of her dragging him to the floor and tearing off his clothes. Since he should be thinking of Tony, he shrugged, reined in his libido and recited, “BOTs can spam a couple of million users at once and bring sophisticated computer systems to their knees.”
“Bingo.” Quinn’s eyes widened, and she smiled at Pierce as if he’d invented computing. “Hackers and spammers and geeks. They use the technology so creatively—stealing passwords, bank account data, credit card info...”
At the end of his technology savvy, Pierce rocked back on his heels. “Cyber-baddies make dummies robbing banks in masks, waving guns and toting a paper bag sooo ho-hum.”
Despite his lame attempt at a joke, Quinn threw him a mind-stunning smile. She pressed her thumb against her bottom lip, waited until he raised his brows, then asked, “Want my definition of BOT?”
Pierce shrugged, kept a straight face, drawled, “I’d rather hear you say you’re dying for me to rip off your clothes. That you want to rip off my clothes. That—”
“Band of Thieves,” she said. “Thieves because we’re talking about a world-wide network of cyber-criminals. They sell their specialties for cash or trade illegal services for the latest virus or access to a compromised system. Nobody’s exempt.”
Pierce stared at her as if she’d dropped through the roof. “Thank you for speaking slowly and simply. But Steve Cutter and Tony spend a fortune on every new anti-virus software and network firewall that hits the market.”
She highlighted a line on the paper she held, then met and held his gaze. “You know BOTs are designed to hide from virus scanners.”
“Tony makes damned sure we install system updates as soon as they’re available. An independent security audit every week gives us five stars.” Dumping on Quinn required breathing, so Pierce inhaled, but his brain kept churning. Where were they going? Was Quinn deliberately trying to make him look stupid?
“Has Steve Cutter figured out what happened on Monday to the security camera? User error makes sense.” Her tone, sympathetic and warm, melted Pierce’s defensiveness.
“Steve let George off the hook. Says the old guy knows what he’s doing. Tony sent me an email that he was checking a camera malfunction, but...I don’t know...it’s pretty cryptic.”
“Unlike my very specific love-note.” Pain and confusion overrode her forced brightness.
“Christ, Quinn!” He jumped over the pile of papers, missing the last mountain, stumbled, slipped. His legs did the splits. Time stood still. She fought back a laugh. Time sped up. He crashed sideways, slamming his knee on the side of his desk. “Yowwww!”
“Yowwwwie.” Smiling like an angel, she eased down next to him.
Certain he’d messed up his chance at fathering children, he swallowed his pride and managed a feeble smile. “And for my next amazing act of agility and coordination—”
“Gotta dash into the nearest phone booth and emerge in the cape and tights before leaping tall buildings, Dude.”
When he opened his mouth to laugh, her tongue slipped inside, a feather of flame scorching every place it touched. The kiss released a reaching-out in her Pierce had never known before. He didn’t give a damn that he looked like a complete idiot.
Her body pressed against his, curling into him with the familiarity of a long-time lover. Her heart banging his rib cage confirmed he was actually awake. Electricity jolted through him, exploding in his groin. The need to show off or crack wise or make silly promises evaporated. He held Quinn and let the tenderness radiating from her soak into his starved system.
Now I get how women bring men to our knees.
As much as Pierce wanted to stay there holding her, his knees finally mutinied. He had to move or never walk again. He shifted his weight and groaned. “That’s a romantic overture.”
She laughed, pushed to standing and offered her hand. “So taken.”
Pride dictated he leap to his feet, but his aching knees won the debate. He let her haul his ass off the floor, then pulled her in
to him. “Sorry I reminded you about that damn note.”
She tapped her index finger against his bottom lip. “Searching those records created a retreat. For a while. But I never forgot the note. Right now, I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget it. Not even if I find out who sent it.”
He kissed the top of her head, then tucked it under his chin. “Okay, but forget about me doing more slapstick.”
“Deal.” She sniffled and kept her nose pressed into his chest.
“Do you think Tony’s part of a band of thieves?”
She pushed herself to arm’s length and stared up at him, her eyes and mouth soft. “He’s smart enough. He’s had opportunities. And—”
“And he’s already admitted he embezzled the money.”
“Someone helped him.” She picked up the papers that had spilled into the outer office. “I’m sure he didn’t act alone.”
Pierce said nothing.
Had Tony written Leonard and Yeager because he wanted some kind of legal immunity? Did he want to shift the blame on someone else? Did he trust lawyers more than he trusted Pierce?
“My timing’s lousy here.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Too many questions, too few answers. “But Brittany wants me to pick her up.”
Quinn touched the tip of his nose. “Surprise, surprise.”
His mouth twisted, and he swallowed, the tendons in his neck hard as rocks.
But he locked eyes with her. “No surprise I was the world’s biggest idiot either. I hope—with time—I can prove I’ve changed.”
She stood still, tilted his head forward, cradled his stubbled cheeks in her hands and kissed him, her eyes open, her fingers pulling him forward. The kiss deepened and she folded her body against his, moving her arms around his neck.
Leaving him dazed, she broke the kiss and whispered. “Go, Kemosabe.”
Chapter 17
Focus, focus. Stop thinking about that damn note. Quinn gnawed her bottom lip and entered a new search argument. Stop thinking about Pierce declaring he’s changed. Stop thinking about him walking into Brittany’s hotel room. He’s an adult. A male adult. Not even Brittany can force him to have sex.
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