by Abby Gaines
Half a million dollars! How could she pay a bond on that sort of bail when her accounts were frozen? Holly opened her mouth to argue, but Jared’s hand on her arm stayed her.
“I’ll pay the bond,” he said.
“You can’t do that.”
His response was impatience rather than anger at her ingratitude. “I want to get this job done. I need you at the office.”
Holly knew there was more to it than that. She might be the best in her field, but Jared could get someone else if he had to. Right now she would accept his explanation, in the interests of getting as far away from this courtroom as possible.
The court was dismissed and, as they turned to leave, Holly’s gaze traveled the length of the room. She groaned. “What’s she doing here?”
“Who?” Jared looked around.
“My mother.” With the tiniest movement of her hand, Holly indicated the back row.
As they watched, a woman with thick chestnut hair pushed back behind her ears got hesitantly to her feet and stepped into the aisle. Jared could see that her dress, though clean and pressed, was somewhat shabby. Holly’s mother was on the heavy side of curvy, but she still had great legs and slim ankles. She was an attractive woman, though Jared found her obvious charms far less inspiring than Holly’s repressed sexiness, which turned him on so painfully.
Holly stopped when they came level with her mother. Jared sensed that if Holly could have, she’d have walked right on by. But it seemed the maternal bond overrode her ability to be incredibly rude, something she reserved for Jared.
“What are you doing here?”
Jared winced at Holly’s blunt question, and revised his view.
“Baby, I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” Holly’s mother wiped her palms on her dress.
“I didn’t steal the money,” Holly said sharply.
“You don’t have to tell me that.” At her mother’s evident shock, Holly’s expression thawed.
“Thanks.” Her voice was gruff.
“Is there anything I can do? If you need money, I have—”
“I’m okay, really. I just need to work through this process. They have no evidence. I won’t be found guilty.”
Her mother looked dubious. “Okay, baby,” she soothed.
“Ms. Stephens.” Holly turned, but her relief swiftly evaporated. It was a young man, whose thin curls and wire-framed glasses were familiar.
Ed Kelly, the journalist who’d written the Control Freak of the Year piece.
Kelly’s expression bore none of the sycophantic admiration he’d started with the last time they met. Which had lasted about ten minutes, until she started to criticize him. His smile had an unpleasant edge, and avid curiosity lit his pale blue eyes behind the glasses.
“Ed.” Holly shook his hand warily.
The young man launched right in. “When did you learn about the missing money? How do you intend to prove your innocence?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t discuss anything with you,” Holly replied with dignity, and felt an approving squeeze of her elbow from Jared.
The journalist turned to the man who’d just offered to hand over half a million dollars if Holly absconded. “What’s your involvement with Fletcher & Stephens, Mr. Harding? Are you a client…or a partner?”
For a moment Holly thought Jared might stoop to talk to the journalist—he appeared to be contemplating the question. Then Jared leaned his face so close to Kelly’s it could only be called an invasion of personal space. He spoke quietly, but with a controlled fury that had the younger man paling to the same shade as his notebook.
“Stay away from me and stay away from Holly Stephens.”
“I’m only doing my—”
Jared swept Holly past the man without another word.
“You shouldn’t have threatened him. He’ll probably report you,” Holly chastised him as they made it to the foyer with Maggie following close behind. “Someone at the FBI must have leaked the story. How else would he have known to be here?” She paused. “Which is totally against the rules—I’m going to file a complaint.”
Jared let out an exasperated groan. “There are more important concerns,” he said. “Such as your professional reputation.”
“I’ll be vindicated by the investigation.”
“Oh, come on.” He jerked her to a stop. “Even if they find Fletcher and the money, there’ll be a lot of people only too willing to believe you were involved. It’ll be damned hard to pick up the pieces.”
Maggie nodded her agreement, and for a moment Holly wavered. What Jared had said held an unpleasant ring of truth. “I’ll ask the FBI to issue a statement that I’m innocent. One that’s unequivocal.”
He snorted. “You’re talking about a government agency. They don’t know the meaning of the word. We have to get you away from here.”
She looked at him, startled. “Why?”
“Kelly was just the start. White-collar crime is hot these days, and with your stellar track record, your fall from grace is too good a story to resist. We already know there’s a leak somewhere on my staff, and someone may have seen you going in and out of the building. Transom found you without any trouble—it’s only a matter of time until the media track you down.”
“Where would I go?” She sounded lost, vulnerable.
Jared stepped back.
He turned to Holly’s mother and extended a hand. “I’m Jared Harding, a friend of Holly’s.”
Holly annoyed him, infuriated him and turned him on, yet somehow he did consider her a friend.
“Maggie Stephens.” The older woman met his firm grip with her own.
“You painted the picture Holly has of her father, didn’t you?”
He definitely wasn’t imagining Holly’s annoyance. She made a small squawk of protest. Maggie looked equally uncomfortable, her arms folded defensively across her chest. “I did paint several pictures of my husband. I didn’t know Holly still had one.”
There was a swift exchange of glances between the two women. Jared discerned coolness in Holly’s gaze, pleading in Maggie’s.
He pulled Holly aside and asked her quietly, “Where does your mom live?”
“In Marionville, near Portland. I’m not going with her.”
“You need somewhere out of town, and you should be with people who’ll support you.” Jared put a warning hand to her lips. “Listen to me, Holly. The press will be all over you—think Martha Stewart.”
She shoved his hand aside. “Martha Stewart is an icon.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “If you leave town now, after a day or two you’ll be out of sight, out of mind.”
“Holly, come stay with me.” Maggie had overheard that part, and her quiet urging led, Jared thought, to a softening in Holly’s expression.
“I can look after myself.”
But Jared heard the yearning, and he guessed Maggie did, too. She reached out and put her arm around Holly’s only slightly tense shoulders.
Then Maggie started as she looked past Holly. “Summer’s here.”
Jared wondered what that had to do with this mess. And besides, September was just around the corner. Summer was almost over.
Ah. A girl was hurrying across the lobby toward them. Jared recognized her from the photo on Holly’s bedroom wall.
“Summer.” Holly threw her arms around the girl. “I told you not to come.”
“Of course I came,” Summer said. “I didn’t know where you were, so I went to AnnaMae’s and she said you’d be in court.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
Jared cleared his throat, reminding Holly of his presence.
“This is my sister, Summer,” she told him.
Summer was a younger, prettier version of Holly, with dark hair cut spikily short. She wore the briefest of sundresses—she must be freezing in this air-conditioning. Because he knew it would annoy Holly, and he owed her some annoyance, Jared gave the girl an openly appreciative look, even th
ough he found her over-made-up face somewhat vacant. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, lowering his voice to the drawl women told him was irresistible.
Holly, clearly able to resist anything he might throw at her, glared. But Summer, with the easy distraction of youth, forgot her sister’s troubles long enough to return his appraisal with equal appreciation, her grin openly flirtatious.
“Hey,” she said, and held out a manicured hand.
Her touch did nothing for him, he was relieved to find. It was bad enough that Holly turned him on; he’d have been seriously worried if he’d started lusting after teenagers.
“Summer, this is my current employer, Jared Harding.”
He figured the emphasis on current was meant to make it clear Holly didn’t plan to work for him a moment longer than necessary.
Summer said, “I’ve come to tell you I’m dropping out of college. You can’t afford to pay our fees as well as a lawyer and…and goodness knows what else you have to pay for.”
Holly paled. “You are not dropping out of college.” She grabbed Summer by the elbow and pulled her closer. “Don’t worry about the money,” she whispered, but not so quietly that Jared couldn’t hear. “Jared’s paying me a ridiculous amount, and I’ll pay your fees on time.”
A ridiculous amount? He’d thought the number sounded a shade high—he hadn’t realized she was taking him for a ride. And all to pay college fees for a kid who planned to drop out.
Summer was close to tears as she said, “It’s not about the money. I shouldn’t have said that. I wanted to tell you, only I didn’t have the guts, and I thought you might be pleased to have the financial pressure off now that…” She tailed off, then took a deep, refueling breath. “Hol, I don’t want to go to college. I want—”
Whatever Summer wanted was lost as Holly rounded on her mother. “You did this,” Holly accused Maggie. “You never wanted her to get an education and now you’ve talked her into quitting. You can’t bear the thought of anyone having a normal life, making something of themselves.”
“Baby, that’s not true.” But the glimmer of hope in Maggie’s eyes had been extinguished. “If you really believe that, it’s best I go now.”
For half a second Holly hesitated. Jared thought she might withdraw the accusation. But then she nodded coldly.
Maggie caught her breath. “I love you.” She turned and walked away. Before she’d gone far, Agent Crook detained her with a hand on her arm, and they stood talking.
Holly watched the exchange. “What’s my mother saying to that FBI agent? She’s so naive, he’s probably taking advantage of her to incriminate me.”
But Jared noticed the way Crook and Maggie stood very close to each other, and their intent focus. “I think your mom and Crook have something else on their minds. Something personal.”
Holly glowered. “Don’t be silly.” She turned her back on her mother.
Jared sighed. The Stephens family reunion had been about as prickly as he might have expected where Holly was involved. But then, in his experience, family was always more trouble than it was worth. When Crook and Maggie had moved out of sight he tugged Holly toward the exit. “I’ll take you back to the apartment,” he said, and added to Summer, “You’d better come, too.”
JARED LEFT THEM on the couch while he made coffee, but he was close enough to hear every word of their argument.
“You have to go to college. How else will you get a good job?” Holly demanded.
“I’ve already found a job—the place I’ve been working during my vacation.”
“A beauty parlor.”
Holly would have used the same tone to say, “a brothel,” Jared figured.
“That’s what I want to be. A beautician.”
“No.”
Jared had to struggle not to laugh. Beautician was so clearly the right job for Summer, and Holly was acting as if her sister had just scuppered her own chances for a Nobel prize.
“Summer, you’re too smart for that,” Holly said.
“I’m not smart. Not like you are. I’ve hated every minute at college. My grades are awful.” Summer screwed up her face in apology. “I love it at the beauty parlor, Hol, I just love it.”
As he took the coffee through, Holly made a visible effort to pull herself together.
“I understand you’re not happy,” she said in calm understatement. “Let’s talk to River about this.”
“There’s no point,” Summer said. “He should be here, too, only he didn’t have the guts to tell you himself. He’s quitting college, as well.”
Holly felt the breath leave her body and she couldn’t find any air to suck in. She was aware of her mouth opening and closing while she tried to process the information.
“River wants to be a beautician, too?” she asked stupidly.
Summer tittered as she edged away from Holly, who appeared to be losing her mind. “He wants to be a chef. He’s taken a job as short-order cook in the café down the road from Mom.”
Holly shut her eyes. She had worked so long, so hard, to give Summer and River a chance to escape the shoddy life their mother had forced on them.
“Holly, are you all right?”
Jared sounded very close. She opened her eyes to find his brilliant blue gaze inches from her face. She read concern in it. And something else. Pity.
She had to say something, anything, to erase the pity. “Okay, Summer, if that’s what you guys want—well, I guess I can buy a new car now.” Oh, yeah, convincing. Her voice had emerged thin, reedy with unshed tears.
Jared put a hand on her shoulder, and restoring warmth flowed into her. “Holly’s going away for a while, Summer. You can call her on her cell phone, but for now you’d better leave.”
Summer gave him a glare that would have been worthy of Holly. “I’m not going just because you say so.”
Holly patted her sister’s hand. “It’s okay. You should go. I have a lot to think about.”
Still, Summer hesitated.
“I’m fine about the college thing,” Holly said. For a moment Jared thought he’d caught her in a lie. Then she corrected herself. “I will be fine, just as soon as I get used to it.”
After Summer left, Jared said to Holly, “Pack your stuff. We’ll leave after lunch tomorrow.”
He strode out the door before she could ask where they were going.
CHAPTER EIGHT
NEXT MORNING, Jared dialed the number that had come in handy on more than one occasion when he’d been setting up a deal that required extra information—special information. Colonel Briggs was available immediately and could be at Jared’s office in fifteen minutes. A man who appreciated which side his bread was buttered on, unlike a certain female accountant Jared could name.
Jared spent the time writing down the essentials of the case. The Colonel would take his own notes, but Jared might as well be sure they were on the same wavelength.
When his assistant tapped on his office door, he rose to greet the visitor.
“M’boy.” The Colonel’s grip was as fierce as ever.
“Colonel.” Jared always enjoyed meeting with the retired British soldier. It was refreshing to be able to skip the small talk without being considered rude.
They sat at the meeting table in one corner of the office, and Jared briefed him.
“If I may clarify…” Colonel Briggs launched into a recap of his client’s instructions. “This David Fletcher has absconded with around six million dollars. You want me to track him down and report to you on his whereabouts. Will I be treading on anyone else’s toes?”
“The Feds are investigating, but they’re focusing on Fletcher’s business partner for now.” Jared passed over the photo of Holly he’d torn from the control-freak article.
The Colonel gave a dignified snort. “Can be an asset to a criminal, a face that honest.”
“She’s innocent.”
“Common name, David Fletcher. Do you have passport details, any information about contacts overs
eas?”
“No passport details.” Jared suspected Holly would have them, but she was unlikely to cooperate in an unofficial investigation. “His mother came from New Zealand. He may have dual citizenship, or at least have contacts there he could hide out with. You’ll find his photo on the company Web site.”
Briggs harrumphed. It was more information than Jared had given him on other jobs. “And the budget?”
“Whatever you deem necessary.” Jared knew the investigator to be frugal, preferring the anonymity of chain motels and restaurants to the chance to splash money around. “Just keep me informed. I’m heading out of town this afternoon, but you can get me on my cell phone.”
There was nothing left to say that mattered, so the Colonel departed. Jared expected to hear no more until the older man had some concrete progress to report. No point mentioning this to Holly until then.
WHEN HOLLY CLIMBED into Jared’s Saab on Wednesday afternoon, he handed her the Seattle Post-Intelligencer.
The front-page headline jumped out: CPA In FBI Probe. And beneath it ran her photo, the one they’d used when she was named Washington Businesswoman of the Year.
Just her luck that Ed Kelly would freelance for Seattle’s top newspaper. Thankfully she hadn’t said enough to the journalist to be quoted directly, but the disappearance of millions of dollars of clients’ funds made ugly reading. And though Dave Fletcher was named in the report, too, it was Holly’s photo plastered across the page. “Stephens would not comment, and the firm’s clients refused to discuss the matter,” the article concluded.
That last was not out of loyalty to the firm, Holly suspected, but out of a desire not to show themselves stupid enough to have invested with a crooked accountant. She bit her lip, suddenly relieved that she’d given in to Jared’s order to leave town. Only he and the FBI would know where she was.
“Where are we going?” It was a measure of her preoccupation that the question hadn’t occurred to her before now.