A Lover's Vow

by Brenda Jackson

  Bruce turned to Jace. “I need to get inside the accounting department, preferably after hours and without anyone knowing. Even security.”

  The Granger Aeronautics security team worked twenty-four hours a day, and everyone in the room knew it. What Bruce was asking was close to impossible. Jace glanced over at Dalton. “Can you make that happen?”

  Dalton nodded. “Yes. I’ll need to organize a few things but I’ll let you know when and how tomorrow.”

  “All right,” Jace replied. And then he asked Bruce, “Did you ever find out whether information had been wiped off Brandy’s hard drive?”

  “Not yet. But if Percy actually saw that program, that will answer the question for us.”

  “How can someone manage to wipe a computer clean from a remote location?” Caden asked, obviously baffled by what he’d heard.

  “With so much modern technology out there, it’s not impossible to do,” Bruce replied.

  “I concur with Bruce,” Marcel said, rubbing a frustrated hand down his face. “The agency spends a lot of time investigating computer fraud and abuse. Just when we think we have a handle on it, some new software is developed. But this is more about abuse,” he added. “This might be more than about trade secrets. Granger handles government contracts, so this security compromise is especially worrisome.”

  Dalton could tell it bothered the others in the room, as well. He hoped the FBI would get to the bottom of it and put all those involved behind bars. And speaking of bars...

  “When do Vidal Duncan, Titus Freeman, Cal Arrington and Melissa Swanson go on trial?” Dalton asked.

  Caden glanced over at him. “Funny you should ask. I got a call from Duncan’s attorney before I left the office. The man specifically asked for me. I guess he knew better than to call Jace.”

  “What did his attorney want?” Jace asked in a voice that had turned to steel.

  “He didn’t say. I figure he’s going to try to work on some sort of plea deal for Vidal.”

  “Not with my help,” Jace said angrily.

  Marcel understood Jace’s attitude. “As far as Arrington is concerned, he’s finally decided to start talking to save his skin since Melissa Swanson is telling everything she knows. And Titus Freeman claims he’s suffering from amnesia and can’t recall a thing. I think his attorney is trying to come up with an insanity plea.”

  Caden shook his head. “You also got another call after you left the office, Jace. I hate it when you forward your calls to me.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Your ex-wife.”

  “Evil Eve,” Dalton said. “She’s probably pissed that she wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

  Jace rolled his eyes. “She’s lucky she’s not sharing a jail cell with Vidal. She still might if he decides to name her as a collaborator in my kidnapping. She’s not out of the woods yet.”

  “And I think she knows it,” Caden said. “I believe she wants to talk to you and convince you that she’s an innocent woman.”

  Dalton chuckled, thinking the former Eve Granger probably didn’t know the meaning of innocent. “Evil Eve coming to town is interesting,” he said aloud. “It’s showtime.”

  * * *

  After returning home from Steeplechase, Jules took a three-hour nap. When she woke up, it was to find it had already grown dark outside. Hungry, she decided to order takeout and figured Chinese sounded good.

  She had called Manning earlier and asked him to pull a report on Ivan Greene as well as his parents. What if Imerson had discovered the senior Greene’s alibi wouldn’t wash and they hadn’t been on a cruise at the time of Sylvia Granger’s death as they’d claimed? And from all accounts, Ivan would have been twenty-six or twenty-seven at the time. What if he’d learned of his father’s affair with Sylvia and had gone to the boathouse to confront his father’s lover? What if things had turned ugly? Violent? Deadly?

  With the election in a few weeks, Ivan Greene’s face was everywhere—on television and billboards—encouraging voters to vote for him for mayor. A native son. Harvard graduate. A person who truly cared for the betterment of the city. Typical politician with promises galore. According to the polls, he was leading his opponent, so he might just end up being Charlottesville’s next mayor.

  Jules was about to look up the number for the nearest Chinese takeout restaurant when her phone rang. It was Dalton. Should she answer it? Sure, why not answer it? If you don’t feel like being bothered, just let him know. At that moment, she definitely didn’t feel like being bothered. He had crept into her thoughts too many times today. Memories of each and every time they’d made love had overwhelmed her at some of the oddest moments. Made her hot, made her smile, made her want to drown in his flavor. That was too much Dalton Granger to suit her. Definitely more than she’d experienced with any other man she’d been involved with.

  She answered the phone. “Yes, Dalton?”

  “Busy day?”

  Her shoulders eased a bit. Why did hearing the sound of his voice do that to her? And why did his voice have to sound so soothing...and sexy? “Yes, it was busy. What about yours?”

  “Crappy is more like it. My house was filled with a lot of people most of the day. Jace, Caden, Shana, Bruce, Marcel and Percy—all trying to make heads or tails of what’s going on with the company and all that technology exploitation.”

  “I’m sure Marcel or Bruce will figure it out.”

  “Hell, I hope so. For once, I’d like to be a part of a company that’s not in the red and not faced with greedy employees trying to steal from it. And on top of everything else, Caden mentioned that Evil Eve is coming to town.”

  Jules knew that Jace’s first wife was named Eve but that Dalton preferred calling her Evil Eve.

  “Any particular reason why?”

  “I think she’s afraid Vidal is going to name her as an accessory, and she wants to convince Jace she wasn’t involved.”

  Jules snorted. “Depends on what you mean by involved. I’d think having an affair with Vidal constitutes involvement.”

  “Eve doesn’t think the way most people do.”

  “Well, Jace isn’t the one she should be convincing of her innocence. I’d think she should be worried about the prosecutors.”

  He paused a minute. “What are you doing for dinner?”

  “Nothing.” And just in case he had any ideas about joining her, she quickly put them to rest. “I ordered takeout. Chinese.”

  “Oh. And how did things go with your interview of Leigh Imerson?”

  She hesitated, not yet ready to tell him what she’d found out. First she wanted to read the report on Ivan Greene that Manning was pulling together. But still, it wouldn’t hurt hearing what he knew about the man. “It went well. She said her husband didn’t bring work home or talk about any of his cases with her.”

  “So she was a dead end.”

  I wouldn’t say that. “For now, I’m moving on to the next person on my list, Ivan Greene. What do you know about him?”

  “Nothing, really. He’s running for mayor, and if you want to believe the polls, he has a strong chance of winning. I’m sure you know his father supposedly had an affair with my mother.”

  “Supposedly? Don’t you believe it?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Dad evidently received proof in the way of pictures. All I know is the man I saw with my mother that one time at the boathouse wasn’t Michael Greene.”

  “And you don’t know who the man was?”

  “We were never officially introduced, Jules,” Dalton said drily.

  He sounded agitated, somewhat annoyed. She wondered whether talking about his mother and bringing up her affairs bothered him. “I’m sure that you weren’t introduced, Dalton. But I just wondered if perhaps you remembered anything about the guy.”

  “T
hat was a long time ago.”

  “Think you’d recognize him if you were to see him again?”

  “What are you planning to do? Let me pick him out of a police lineup?”

  “That might actually be possible.”

  “I was just teasing.”

  “I knew you were. No need to be testy.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. Look, my takeout has arrived,” she lied. “I’ll talk to you later.” And without waiting for him to respond, she hung up the phone.

  * * *

  “Did she just hang up on me?” Dalton muttered, clicking off his phone and placing it back on the table. Jules sounded moody, and moody women had always been a total turnoff for him. But then, he had no right to be judgmental, since he wasn’t in the best of moods himself.

  Like he’d told her, his day had been crappy. Having people in and out of his house wasn’t something he was used to, and he wasn’t overjoyed about the reason they’d had to meet behind closed doors in the first place. And then, while they were assembled, Jace figured it would be a good time for Marcel and Bruce to meet Striker, Quasar and Stonewall. He felt it was important for everyone to know who was working on the same team. It had been a smart idea, but the day had been tiring and the meetings had seemed to last forever.

  He had called to invite Jules to dinner, which he now saw was a mistake. So maybe her moody attitude was a blessing in disguise. Like him, she probably didn’t want anyone in her personal space. They had spent last night together, but there was no need to overdo things by seeing her again today or even again this week. Or next week, for that matter. During his lifetime he’d dated a lot of women, but he’d never been a man who wanted an exclusive relationship with one.

  And why had Jules asked about his mother’s lovers? He hadn’t known about Michael Greene until Jace and Caden mentioned the man to him. And he’d been truthful when he’d said that he wasn’t sure he would recognize the man he’d seen his mother with that day in the boathouse if he were to ever see him again.

  Moving toward his kitchen, he grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and figured that he might as well order takeout himself, and Chinese wasn’t a bad idea. Tonight he would give Stonewall a break and stay in for a change. Besides, he needed to come up with a plan to get Bruce into the accounting department of Granger without security knowing anything about it. It would be hard, but not impossible.

  What Percy had uncovered with that computer was also a breach of security, and since he was the top dog in charge, all he had to say about that was not on his watch.

  He stood in his kitchen and finished off the beer before tossing the can in the recycling bin. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he leaned back against the kitchen counter. When had his place begun feeling lonely? He was probably thinking that way because it had been crowded with several people earlier and was totally empty now. And why did his mind wander and focus on a particular woman?

  Jules was a distraction he didn’t need now. He had things to take care of. And he understood how she’d gotten wrapped up in what she was doing, her own little investigation. All he’d ever needed or wanted from her was a physical connection. He’d had it—quite a few times—so he was good to go. He didn’t need entanglements, long-term or otherwise. And he didn’t need Jules.

  Dalton’s chest contracted in a long, deep sigh. His life was turning to shit, and he didn’t know why. The company he and his brothers had promised their dying grandfather to take on had been infiltrated by crazies, and for the first time in his life, he was allowing a woman to get under his skin. And if he wasn’t careful, the next thing he’d be doing is ending up like his brothers.

  Damn it, that wouldn’t be happening, and if the only way to ensure that it didn’t was to avoid her, then he would. He refused to let any woman push him to lose control. The repercussions would be disastrous. And this way, his brothers didn’t have to know that he and Jules had ever hooked up. Right now they were just speculating that that is what had happened, and they could continue to do so. The more they stayed out of his business, the better.

  Twenty-Seven

  “Honestly, Ms. Sweet, I’m not sure why you’re here. What is it you want to know?”

  Jules glanced around the lavishly decorated living room. It was immaculate, with all-white furniture that matched the white carpeting. It also matched the uniform of the maid who had escorted her inside, as well as the white Mercedes parked in the circular driveway. That was too much white. Too sterile for her taste. Too pristine. But Ivan Greene, mayoral candidate, looked right at home standing out in his tailor-made dark suit against all that white.

  He hadn’t offered her tea or cookies as Leigh Imerson had done, which led her to believe he didn’t expect her to stay long. “Honestly, Mr. Greene, you aren’t the one I asked to talk with. I was expecting to meet with your parents. I was surprised to find you sitting here waiting on me, instead.”

  She could tell from his expression that he wasn’t used to being around those who spoke their minds. “And I honestly can’t imagine what they could tell you, either. How about you telling me what this is about?”

  Not before he answered a question of her own. “Do you always designate yourself as your parents’ spokesperson?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve found it necessary to run interference for them since I began running for political office. Early on, for some reason, my opponents thought my parents would expose some imaginary secrets they could use as ammunition to hurt my campaign.”

  Jules held his gaze. “And they can’t?”

  Ivan Greene frowned. “There aren’t any secrets to expose. What you see is what you get. Now, let’s not waste our time. What exactly are you here for? Why did you want to meet with my parents?”

  “It’s about the Sylvia Granger murder.” He didn’t blink, which meant he’d known the nature of her visit. She couldn’t be concerned with how he knew for right now.

  “Then you’re definitely wasting your time wanting to meet with my parents. They were out of the country on a cruise when that unfortunate incident happened.”

  “Were they?”

  “Yes. You can check with the cruise line, but that was close to fifteen years ago, and there’s a possibility their records don’t go back that far. You might want to check with the man who was Sheppard Granger’s attorney at the time. I understand he verified my parents’ alibi.”

  She nodded. “So I understand, but I prefer not having a second party verifying any alibis I’m interested in. You never know when someone is not being honest. And I’m sure you’re aware that at least one of your parents, specifically your mother, might have been a suspect had Sheppard Granger revealed the fact that your father had an affair with his wife, Sylvia Granger.”

  She watched his jaw twitch, letting her know he didn’t like being told that. “Let’s be real, shall we, Ms. Sweet? We both know why that was never brought up in court. Granted, I understand my mother went to see Sheppard Granger while he was out on bail and asked him not to mention it because of their alibi, and he agreed. But only after his attorney checked out my parents’ alibi. But then, Sheppard was a smart man. He’d known that mentioning his wife’s affair with my father would have given the prosecution even more reason to argue that Sheppard Granger had a motive for killing his wife. He did the smart thing in leaving my parents out of it. And besides, like I said, they were on a cruise at the time Sylvia Granger was murdered.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Yes, and how lucky for them not to get caught up in that scandal. They were on that cruise trying to restore and rebuild their marriage. As you can see, it worked. My parents have been married a little over forty years now.”

  “That’s admirable, considering the fact your father’s affair with Sylvia had your mother angry enough to hire a private investigator
to prove her suspicions were true and then send proof of the affair to Sheppard Granger.”

  “Only because Sheppard Granger needed to know what kind of woman he was married to. Sylvia Granger was evil, and she used my father to get what she wanted.”

  Jules raised a brow. “Which was?”

  “A way to make her husband jealous, I imagine. I understand Sheppard had begun spending more time with Granger Aeronautics and less time with Sylvia. I heard she was beginning to feel somewhat neglected.”

  Jules didn’t say anything for a minute. “You seem to know a lot about how she was feeling, Mr. Greene. Let’s see, you were around twenty-six or twenty-seven back then, right? An attorney fresh out of Harvard Law School, who went straight to work with Miller, Wyatt and Barnes.”

  Then, without missing a beat, she asked, “And where were you the day Sylvia Granger was murdered?”

  His gaze darkened with suppressed anger. “I wish I could say I was on that cruise with my parents, but I can’t. I was here in town, but in court that day. All day. That can be verified.”

  “I’ll make sure that it can. And what about your visit to Leigh Imerson? Not long after her husband’s accident, you were inquiring about his investigative report on Sylvia’s murder. Why were you interested? Were you afraid some damaging information was in that report? Whom were you trying to protect? Your parents or yourself?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? Well, personally, I think that you do know what I’m talking about.”

  His jaw twitched again as he leaned forward on the sofa. “Let’s cut the bullshit, Ms. Sweet. You’re a PI who goes by the name J. B. Sweet, but you’re really Juliet Bradford, and your sister is married to Jace Granger.”

  She wasn’t about to try to figure out how he had discovered that, either. “The fact remains that I am a PI. A darned good one, who plans to prove Sheppard Granger didn’t kill his wife and expose the real killer.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, the real killer is in jail. Sheppard Granger killed his wife, so trying to prove otherwise is a waste of your time.”