by Addison Fox
With the police station firmly behind her, Bellamy focused on the driver’s route through town and toward her small home.
Her haven.
She’d hole up and assess the damage.
And then she was going to figure out just what the hell was going on and why she’d somehow been targeted as the one to take the fall.
* * *
“THAT WENT WELL.” Chief Thompson stared at the closed office door in the direction Bellamy just departed.
“Please tell me that’s your special brand of sarcasm.” Donovan eyed Alex where he lay on the floor across the room and could have sworn the animal let out a small sniff of displeasure.
“Justice may be blind but I’m not. If that woman’s guilty, I’ll eat my hat.”
Donovan thought the same but was curious about Archer’s sudden assessment. “You didn’t act like she was innocent.”
“Appearances. I can’t have my constituents thinking I’m soft or unable to ask the tough questions. But there was some pure, righteous anger there the moment the tone changed. She was well and rightly pissed at both of us and I’m glad. She’s going to need that bit of fire to get through whatever is going on here.”
“You believe the email?”
“No reason not to.”
Donovan glanced down at the paper he still held in a tight grip. “Emails can be doctored.”
“Lots of things can be doctored. What I don’t see in this situation is why. She’s got a good job. She’s well liked and well respected. I did some preliminary digging. She’s not in debt or trouble and there’s nothing to suggest she’s got some sort of vendetta and is looking to ruin Lone Star Pharmaceutical. Nothing clicks there.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
It didn’t make any more sense an hour later as Donovan worked over Bellamy’s car. The chief had had her vehicle towed to a small impound area the man kept for police business and Donovan had gone straight there with Alex after leaving the station. Her gray gaze still haunted him, the whispers of “traitor” and “coconspirator” stamped so clearly in those depths they might as well have been written out.
And hadn’t he contributed to that?
He’d brought Bellamy to the station himself, hand delivered to the front door. He’d genuinely believed she was the victim in this situation, but the moment she’d pulled out that email the tenor of the meeting had changed. Archer might be working the bad cop routine but that didn’t exactly leave Donovan as good cop.
And he still had questions.
Was Bellamy responsible in any way for what had happened? And if she wasn’t, then why was she targeted with such incriminating information?
Worse, what sort of scam was LSP running against the market?
The chief had promised to start looking into those elements, especially since the case was on his turf, but Donovan knew well that wasn’t an easy investigation for anyone, let alone a small police department that had grown on the goodwill and funding of the town’s largest employer.
Donovan had almost used that level of conflict to transfer the investigation to his own precinct in Austin when Archer took matters into his own hands. The chief sent all notes and information to the Austin PD chief himself, CC-ing Donovan in the process.
Nothing about this situation made any sense. Instead, it felt like mysteries wrapped in mysteries, with no discernable threads or entry points.
By all indications, Bellamy Reeves was a solid, well-respected employee. Responsible, but not a part of the company’s upper echelon. And yet she’d somehow been granted access to information that created a quagmire of doubt.
What could she possibly know?
If she were higher up in LSP, he might explore a whistle-blower angle, but she didn’t have the power to affect that sort of change.
Shaking his head to dislodge the roiling thoughts, Donovan caught sight of Alex from the corner of his eye. The dog was still seated in the position he’d instructed, his gaze never wavering as Donovan searched the car with a flashlight.
Was that accusation he saw in his partner’s eyes?
Alex had been his usual obedient self, but he’d deliberately sniffed the front passenger seat of the car before they climbed in and headed for the impound lot. He’d also taken the back seat, refusing to sit in his normal spot in the front.
Loyalty to Bellamy?
If it was, he’d take Alex’s judgment more seriously than many others.
But even with the positive canine reinforcement, it didn’t change the situation. Bellamy Reeves was in a heap of trouble.
“It’s about damn time you figured out why, Colton.”
Whether it was the muttered instructions or the simple twist of a moment, he had no idea, but his flashlight tilted over a quick glint of something lightly colored. Repositioning the light, he searched once more for the source and saw a small, thin button, the sort used on men’s fancy dress shirts. He flashed the light fully on the object, a momentary pang that a man might have lost a button in Bellamy’s car burning through him like wildfire.
The woman was entitled to date. To have relationships. Hell, she could make out in her damn car if she wanted to, buttons flying in all directions in the heat of the moment. What business was it of his?
At the bark from behind him, Donovan turned to see Alex, that firm stare still in place. “Okay, fine. No jumping to conclusions.”
Even as the odd shot of jealousy lingered, Donovan refocused on the evidence he’d collected. He carefully picked up the button with his gloved hand, anxious to preserve whatever prints might be on the flat disc as part of the investigation. After dropping it into an evidence bag from his field kit, he stood back to assess the car once more.
With a light pat on his thigh, he motioned Alex closer and was comforted when that large body scrambled to join him, resettling himself at Donovan’s side. Together they stared at the remains of the car.
It was a simple, serviceable sedan, about four years old. Nothing flashy, but it had been kept clean. Even beneath the grit and residue of the explosion, he could see there weren’t items left scattered throughout the car like an extra storage space or trash receptacle. He hadn’t even found the normal junk stuffed in the armrest, only the charred edges of a few napkins.
The car was neat and orderly. Just like her home. And just like the office he suspected he’d find when he headed over to LSP later.
On a resigned sigh, he continued the review of the car, layer by layer. He’d need more time to take all the samples he wanted, but he did have enough to start the process. He needed to apprise his chief of what he’d discovered so far, so he’d kill two birds and drop the materials off at the lab himself. Maybe with some space and distance, and the idle time on the drive back to Austin, something would shake loose.
It was only ten minutes later, both he and Alex back in his SUV and headed for the highway, that it hit him. Whatever possible involvement Bellamy had in the situation unfolding at LSP, one thing was clear.
She’d been the target of a car bomb.
And since the perpetrator hadn’t been successful, what would stop him from trying again?
Donovan skidded to a stop and took a hard spin on his steering wheel, whipping the car around before heading back into town and in the direction of Bellamy’s house. Adrenaline lit him up like the Christmas lights on Main Street as he raced toward the small home.
Why had he let her walk out by herself? Worse, how had he been so blind to the needs of someone on his caseload?
The woman was at risk and in very clear danger.
And he’d been worried about a damn button and who she might be dating.
He pressed harder on the gas, bumping over the slightly uneven road that lead to her home. With yet another hard turn of the wheel, he spun onto her street. Relief punched through the adrenal
ine when he saw her in the distance, on her knees around the flower beds that surrounded the front porch, a hat on her head.
The scenario of smoke and fire that had accompanied him on the wild drive through town was nowhere in evidence. Instead, all he saw was a pretty woman on a cool Texas afternoon digging in her flower beds.
He’d never been more relieved.
Even as he couldn’t shake the hard, insistent slam of his pulse that suggested he’d arrived just in time.
* * *
“EVERYTHING’S FINE, DAD. Really, it was nothing. It was an unfortunate accident, is all.”
Jensen paced around his office, the faint voice of his father, Sutton Taylor, echoing from the speakerphone on his desk.
And everything was fine. Hadn’t he been trying to tell the old man for half an hour already? Even confined to a bed, the old man could natter on and on.
“Bombs in cars? In our parking lot at headquarters?”
“An incident, nothing more.”
“How can you say that, Jensen? It’s an employee in danger. On our property.”
In danger because I put her there. Voluntarily.
The retort was so close to the edge of his tongue Jensen nearly had to bite it, but held back. Gloating over his plans would get him nowhere and would prematurely tip his father off before he’d completed the work.
But he satisfied himself with a small smile, pleased that he’d found a way to get exactly what he wanted, all while pinning it on an unsuspecting victim.
Even better, no one would question the line of succession from Sutton to Jensen Taylor when the inevitable handoff of LSP finally came. He was the rightful heir to the Taylor family fortune and to Lone Star Pharmaceutical. His father might have enjoyed sowing every oat he had, but there was no way one of his bastards would get a single piece of what Jensen had worked for.
What he deserved.
“Dad, let the police do their job. Bellamy Reeves has been a loose cannon for some time.”
“The sweet girl in finance?”
Jensen had to give his father credit—he did know his employees. Or maybe it was more that his father never forgot a pretty face. Whatever the reason, he’d pegged Jensen’s scapegoat with surprising accuracy.
“She might have been sweet once but she’s had a rough go these last few years. Her father was the one paralyzed in that accident several years ago.”
“I knew Daniel-Justice Reeves, Jensen. I know what happened to the man.”
Even with the sickness that had gripped him with increasing severity over the past few weeks, his father’s withering voice was as clear as ever.
“Then you know he died a terrible death. Lingered there at the end way too long. That does something to a person, Dad. I don’t know what I’d do if I was in the Reeves girl’s position. If I lost you that way.”
Sutton paused for a moment before continuing on in slightly quieter tones. “You need to help her. Find out who did this.”
“Of course.”
“And keep me posted. I’m not that far away.”
“I know that. I know you can be back at any time.” Any freaking time, Jensen thought. “I want you to focus on getting better. I’ll figure out what’s going on here and keep you updated.”
“You can still come here for Christmas, you know,” Sutton said, his voice quiet. “I’d like to see you.”
The comment was almost sweet, for a man who’d never shown a large degree of fatherly care. Nice time to try and mend fences, dear old Dad.
But he said none of it. Instead, he forced that calm, capable tone into his voice, his focus on getting through the call. “I know I said I’d cover things through the holidays but that won’t keep me from coming down to see you. You can count on me.”
“All right. We’ll talk tomorrow. Get Chief Thompson on this. I make sure that man has a rock-solid department with all the latest tools and tech for a reason. I want him taking care of this.”
“Of course, Dad.”
After a few more minutes of blustering, Jensen heard the voice of a nurse who’d puttered in to take Sutton’s vitals and his father made excuses to hang up.
Jensen hit the end-call button on the speakerphone and stood there, staring out the window of his office at the view of the parking lot and the hill country beyond. He could still see the spot where Bellamy Reeves’s car had been parked the day before, yellow police tape flying from a nearby tree. Even at this distance, a large black spot was visible on the ground from the remnants of the burned-out car.
His clueless little scapegoat.
She was the perfect choice. The absolutely perfect scapegoat for what he needed to do.
LSP would turn a shockingly enormous profit.
His father wouldn’t be around to see any of it.
And one lonely, unlucky woman would take the fall before suffering a painful, lonely death.
How could he lose?
* * *
BELLAMY HEARD THE bark first, immediately followed by the solid poke of a squishy nose on her hip. She turned to see Alex playfully teasing her, his master standing about six feet away, hands on hips.
Her heart gave an involuntarily hitch at the sight he made. His thick, powerful shoulders were set off and backlit by the winter sun that rode low in the sky. The light breeze ruffled the edges of his hair, and his eyes were a warm, gooey chocolate-brownie brown as they stared down at her.
“We need to talk. Alex and I will check the grounds again and then we can discuss this morning.”
Was that apology she saw reflected there? Remorse? Or neither, she quickly scolded herself as she dropped back on her rear and focused on Alex. Donovan was probably just here so he could scold her again.
“You checked the grounds this morning. Talk to me.”
“It’s important that I check things out.”
“And it’s important to me to talk to you.”
To punctuate her point, she pulled off her gardening gloves and gave Alex a vigorous pat down, from the top of his head, down over his back and on toward the lower part of his spine as he wiggled in ecstasy. It didn’t take much after that to push him to his side so she could give him the added joy of a belly rub.
“Careful. He might quit my team and join yours.”
“Then I’d say he’s one smart cookie.” She patted Alex’s chest before giving in and looking back up at Donovan. “I’m not sure I’d want to work for a suspicious brute, either.”
“Suspicion comes with the territory. What did I do to get ‘brute,’ too?”
“You really don’t know?”
“I’d rather hear it from your perspective.”
Whatever she might suspect in his gaze, it was impossible to miss the sincerity, especially once she matched it to his voice. “You played the whole white knight routine this morning. Picking me up. Bringing me coffee. Even reassuring me it would be okay. And instead I walked into a firing squad.”
“Chief Thompson wasn’t quite that bad.”
“He thinks I’m guilty. And so do you.”
“Where’d you get that from?”
“The moment the two of you jumped all over those email printouts. I thought I had evidence of something horrible and all anyone who’s looked at them has done is accuse me of doing something wrong. First Human Resources at LSP, right before they fired me. Then the two of you. I received that email and I have no idea who sent it or why.”
Donovan dropped onto the grass beside her and reached for one of the garden gloves she’d dragged off to pet Alex. Toying with one finger, he twirled it in his hand and she tried her level best not to imagine him playing with her instead. Her hand inside that glove, her fingers trapped in his.
He would be warm, she imagined. His touch strong and capable. And how nice it w
ould be to hang on in every one of those moments where she had no one to lean on except herself.
It’d be nice to hang on in all the other moments, too.
The thought was a surprise, the warmth that flooded her even more so.
Donovan Colton was the enemy.
Or at bare minimum a wary adversary, working at cross-purposes. There was no way she should even be entertaining thoughts of him in her life. Absolutely no reason at all to give them free rein.
“So talk to me, Bellamy.”
“Why? So you can grill me again and make me feel like a common criminal?”
“No. Let’s talk it through so we can try and find answers. Both the chief and I heard you today, though I’d like you to tell me again. But when I ask you questions, even the hard ones, don’t assume it’s because I don’t believe you.”
That sincerity was back, along with a subtle plea in his voice that tugged at her.
“Where do you want me to start?”
“At the beginning.”
* * *
THE SUN BEAT down over his back as Donovan held his breath. He had driven over to Bellamy’s like a madman, determined to get to her to make sure she was safe. Now that he was here, he’d done nothing but watch her, as smitten as Alex.
What was it about this woman?
She was beautiful, that was without question. Slim and lovely, she had a warmth about her that was hard to resist. It was funny, though, because he suspected if he asked her to describe herself she would outline a much harsher, tougher woman than the one who sat before him.
He imagined she saw herself as hard, maybe, because of the challenges she’d managed the past few years. But where she likely saw rough edges, he saw a diamond.
“What beginning?”
“Wherever you think this starts. You keep saying the email you received yesterday. Do you think that’s the right spot?”
“Isn’t it?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
Did he tell her what he thought? He was a man who played his life close to the vest and police work had simply been a natural extension of that. He knew the roots of it all. More, he knew it was laughable how his worldview was steeped in every moment of his childhood. And from his continued embarrassment that he wasn’t a true Colton.