Hard As Ice (Fortis Series 1)

by Raven Scott

  Today, as he and Raymond tailed Nia’s taxi into downtown Boston on Friday evening, he didn’t feel sharp or detached. His thigh muscle throbbed from the intense workout he’d gone through that afternoon. Evan rubbed at the tight scar tissue, trying to relieve the ache. Eight months after the shooting, he only had lingering pain when he pushed his body beyond normal endurance. It was an acceptable amount of discomfort considering the original prognosis had been permanent disability. The bullet hit him from close proximity and punctured a main artery, tore up his quadriceps, and chipped the femur bone. In the chaos after the shooting, the priority had been to get the ambassador safely out of the vicinity without causing an international incident. It was several hours before Evan could seek proper medical attention, resulting in massive blood loss followed by a deep infection.

  Five months and two surgeries later, there had been minimal improvement to the mobility in his leg. Evan was unwilling to accept that he would be forever crippled. He politely retired from the CIA and returned home to move on with his life, determined to at least walk without a limp again. The first thing he did was start private sessions of physical therapy, the second was to reach out to his good friend, Lucas Johnson.

  The two men had met in Washington, D.C., early in their government careers. They worked together on a lengthy bank fraud case with ties to Eastern European organized crime, and quickly became close friends. Over the years, while Evan was home in Virginia between assignments, they often talked about starting a private agency together, providing elite asset recovery, corporate security, and personal protection services beyond what local police could offer.

  Four years ago, when Lucas wanted to launch the company, Evan wasn’t quite ready to leave the CIA. Instead, Evan offered to be an investor and silent partner. With the strength of the DaCosta name in the military security and defense industry, they would have quick access and credibility to a very niche client list.

  Fortis was born. Evan provided seed money from his trust fund, Lucas managed the operations, only needing to consult with Evan on major decisions. One of which was the opportunity to extend their partnership to include Samuel Mackenzie, a former British MI5 agent whom Lucas had worked with in the Secret Service. After meeting the burly Scot, Evan was fully supportive. It was a smart investment. The agency quickly grew into a successful organization with few competitors in North America.

  Evan’s attention returned to the present as the cab they were following stopped at the curb a half a block ahead. He parked the nondescript black SUV he was driving a short distance back. He and Raymond watched Nia exit her cab and walk into a small bar. Raymond then quickly installed a small earpiece and prepared to follow her in.

  As planned, Tony was in New York for a couple of days, looking into the lead that had surfaced yesterday. There was an Interpol informant, known only as Spencer, who ran a well-respected art and antiquities dealership in Manhattan. The word in Tony’s network was that Spencer was the man to talk to about high-end stolen goods in any major city on the East Coast.

  Before he left, Tony had managed to get into the dead security guard’s apartment while his girlfriend was out. Unfortunately, Flannigan had been too smart to leave anything incriminating or relevant there.

  Now, with Tony out of town, the team was a man down and had to make do with someone Nia had met before. In casual clothes and a baseball cap, it was unlikely that she would still recognize Raymond as one of the Fortis investigators, if she saw him.

  “Let’s get a picture of everyone she talks to,” Evan instructed, repeating their surveillance plan. “I want to hear about every move she makes. And make sure she doesn’t spot you.”

  “Got it.”

  Raymond exited the car and casually followed Nia. His voice came through to Evan’s earpiece about three minutes later.

  “Okay, I have her. She’s just joined a guy at a table in the back of the room. They hugged,” Raymond described.

  Evan clenched his jaw, the only physical reaction to the instinctive annoyance he felt. He knew it was ridiculous. He should feel good, this man could be the break they were looking for, a tangible lead into who Nia is working with, if in fact she’s involved in the robbery.

  “I’ve just sent the image,” continued Raymond. “This would be a good place for a meeting. It’s small, a little dark, music playing but not too loud for conversation. But they’re laughing now. It looks more like a date than business, to me.”

  “It could be,” Evan replied, in a neutral tone. “She only said she had plans with a friend. Let’s see if Lucas can find anything on the guy with his new facial recognition toy.”

  “Okay, looks like a foursome,” Raymond quickly added. “Another couple has joined them, bringing a round of drinks. More hugging, laughing. Pics on the way.”

  “Got ’em,” replied Evan a few moments later. “Sit tight until I hear back from Lucas.”

  “No problem. There’s a live performance that’s about to start. I’ll just chill out with a beer and enjoy the show.”

  Within a couple of minutes, they had Nia’s associates confirmed: Lianne Bloom, registered psychotherapist, engaged to Edward “Eddie” Thompson, financial analyst, brother to Kevin Thompson, veterinarian. The latter was visiting Boston from Seattle, according to a social media post. Not one police arrest or known illegal association among them.

  “Wow, it’s a real who’s who of the criminal underground,” quipped Raymond. “How do you want to play this, Ice?”

  “Let’s keep watch, just in case,” Evan instructed. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen a clever criminal operate in plain sight.

  But the rest of the evening went by without any notable activity. The group of four left the club together, and Nia was dropped off at home before eleven o’clock.

  “The music was pretty good,” Raymond stated as they drove back to the Harbor Hotel.

  Evan only raised an eyebrow.

  “Seriously, it’s pretty hard to find a nice place with live music these days,” the agent added. “It’s called Moody’s, and I pulled up their website. Turns out they have a few locations on the East Coast, including Arlington. I’m going to have to check it out. Impress the ladies.”

  Evan was saved from responding when a call came in from Lucas.

  “Ice, when will you be back at the room?” he asked through the speakerphone.

  “In about five minutes. Why?” Evan replied, on edge.

  “We got something from the sealed juvenile record on James. It was a burglary charge. Call me when you’re in the control room and I’ll give you what I know.”

  Twenty minutes later, the ground team was in the middle of a debate. Lucas’s intel revealed that Nia James had been attending a prestigious private high school in Bloomfield, Michigan, on scholarship. In the middle of her junior year, she was accused of trying to steal diamond earrings from the home of a schoolmate. Six months later, the charges were dropped by the victim, but not before Nia lost her scholarship and was expelled from the school.

  “That’s it, boys. The evidence against James just keeps stacking up,” Raymond stated.

  “No wonder she was so cagey in the interview,” added Michael. “A prior burglary charge. Even if she was just fifteen and the charges were dropped.”

  “It’s still a fact we can’t ignore,” contended Raymond. “Millions of dollars in rare jewels as motive, the access to the safe for opportunity, and now a previous arrest for theft. Of diamonds, no less. Then add recent communication with the ex-con?”

  “Nigel St. Clair,” stated Evan.

  “She’s the only viable suspect, guys. We’ve got zippo on anyone else in the company,” Raymond reminded them.

  “Can’t argue with that,” Michael agreed.

  Evan turned from the spot he had been planted, near the window with a view of the glittering harbor, ignoring the disappointment that had settled low in his stomach.

  “We continue the plan with James as the prime suspect,” he ins
tructed. “I’ll trail her to the appointment she has in the morning, then I’ll keep a close eye on her for the weekend. Tony will be back Sunday from New York, so let’s use the next few days to get all the answers we need. Either James will slip up, or we need to confirm the buyer and locate the money trail.”

  The other two men nodded in agreement, then broke up to pack it in for the night. Evan entered his suite. His body was exhausted, but his mind was racing. For the first time in his professional career, he couldn’t trust his instincts and it was frustrating.

  Like Michael and Raymond, Evan could not dispute the evidence stacking up against Nia. All logical reasoning told him she had to be involved in some way. His initial assessment was still accurate; she was not a woman who could easily be pressured or coerced into anything. So the same logic would indicate she was dangerously manipulative and conniving. An unscrupulous thief, callously using her femininity to dupe the men around her, including Edward Worthington. And maybe even capable of planning the murder of an accomplice.

  Unfortunately, other than logic and common sense, nothing Evan had observed about Nia James in the last three days suggested she could be willingly involved in the high-stakes game of grand larceny and assassination. When he was with her, pretending to start a hot love affair, nothing between them felt like she was guilty. If he was really honest about it, their time together hardly felt like working a case. It felt like a man wanting a woman in the most natural way. And that was just fucked up.

  And there was no doubt he wanted her. Even now, knowing what was in her juvenile file, seeing her out with another man, Evan was anticipating their weekend together. She triggered something in him that he didn’t understand. A physical attraction that was unlike anything he’d experienced before. It was uncomfortable and unnerving. And Evan knew he had to get it under control. He had two days in close proximity in which to do that, and uncover whatever secrets Nia James was still hiding.

  Evan spent another couple of hours packing a weekend bag and reviewing the various files and reports they had gathered on the case to date before catching a few hours of exhausted sleep. He was up at six o’clock Saturday morning to join the team for a workout in the well-equipped hotel gym. By eight o’clock, he was inside the black SUV, watching Nia’s front door. Thirty minutes later, she walked out of her apartment dressed casually in narrow fitted jeans, a light jacket over a T-shirt, and flat shoes. Her thick hair was still in the usual ponytail, but without the professional clothes, stiletto heels, and blood-red lipstick, she appeared younger, less untouchable.

  He watched as she walked in the direction of the nearest subway station. Evan stepped out of the truck to follow her on foot. For the next fifteen minutes, he stayed within visual range, but well hidden by the other transit passengers. Wearing track pants, a hoodie, and running shoes, he looked like every other guy headed to the gym. His holstered gun was concealed under the baggy sweat clothes. Nia exited the subway in Dorchester, just south of downtown Boston. Evan’s senses were on high alert. This neighborhood seemed to be at the epicenter of the suspects involved in the robbery. Whatever Nia was doing there had to be related.

  She walked another three blocks, head held high, with no sign of concern for the rough characters gathering at front stoops or the drunks hanging out in front of the closed liquor store. She was focused on her destination, with a strong, determined stride. Evan almost wondered what would happen if someone tried to mess with her. He remembered her firm body, and comment about kickboxing. His money would be on Nia doing some serious damage.

  Finally, she turned to enter a small community center. It was five minutes before nine o’clock. Evan sped up his pace so that he wouldn’t lose sight of her inside the building. He cautiously opened the front door, but found the center hall in front of him empty.

  “Excuse me, mister.” Evan turned to find a young girl standing behind him. “I need to get in or I’ll be late for my class.”

  She was tall and reed-thin, with dark hair and ivory, freckled skin. He figured she wasn’t more than eleven.

  “Class on a Saturday? That sucks,” he commented while opening the door for her.

  “It’s not school,” she shot back, like he was an idiot. “It’s music.”

  Then she was off running down the hall, stepping into the last doorway on the right.

  Evan looked around again. The rest of the building seemed empty. He slowly made his way down the corridor, cautiously checking each of the rooms along the way. He was halfway to the end when he heard Nia’s laugh. It sounded natural and genuine. There was also the trilling giggle of a girl. Cautiously, he crept forward toward the doorway the girl had entered.

  “Okay, enough silliness. Let’s get started,” he heard Nia state. “How much practicing did you do this week?”

  He peeked in to find the two females seated beside each other on a bench in front of a full-size piano with their backs to him.

  “Three hours?” the girl replied, hesitantly.

  “Three? Meghan, you were supposed to do at least forty-five minutes a day,” Nia scolded.

  “I know, Nia. I tried, but my brothers were making too much noise in the house, and my mom got mad.”

  “Okay. But it means that we’ll just have to work harder on Saturdays.”

  “I know. I can do that.”

  “Good. So show me what you’ve been working on. Let’s start with the number six sonata.”

  Evan stepped back from view, but listened. The young girl started playing a classical song. He knew very little about the piano, but it seemed like a complicated composition. She struggled a little in places, but she did pretty good overall.

  “Not bad!” Nia announced. “It’s coming along, Meghan. Let’s try the beginning part again, focusing on the rhythmic groups.”

  He stayed by the door, listening to the lesson and keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. A security guard walked by, nodding at Evan, but otherwise, the place was empty.

  “Okay, lesson over. What do you want to hear?”

  There was more girlish giggling.

  “You know what song, Nia.”

  “Really! Katy Perry again?”

  “Please? You do it so good!”

  “Oh all right,” Nia replied, making it sound like a big effort.

  Evan smiled to himself, liking this side of her. Then she started playing one of those songs that were popular on the radio. He stood straighter, his skin prickled with goose bumps. It was incredible how she re-created the melody. He wanted to close his eyes and fully experience it. But Evan was on a job, doing surveillance, uncovering the truth.

  When she reached the chorus, Nia’s voice came in slowly, almost as though she didn’t realize she was singing. Even to his uneducated ear, she was a very good singer, with a rich, clear voice filled with passion and honesty. Evan felt disappointed when the performance ended. The silence after was so empty.

  “Okay, it’s time for you to go, Meghan.”

  Evan checked his watch. It was only ten o’clock. She had told him her appointment was for two hours. Did she have another lesson?

  “I know. Thanks, Nia.”

  He quickly took cover around the corner at the end of the hall. Their voices carried into the corridor as they said good-bye. There were more girlish giggles and both pairs of steps retreated toward the main entrance. Evan stayed hidden, but took a quick glance into the hall to see what was going on. The young girl was now holding a man’s hand, and Nia was talking to him. They were too far away for Evan to hear the conversation. He took out his phone and took a picture, just before the girl and the man left. Evan listened to Nia’s return to the room with the piano, then stayed concealed to see what came next. His right hand lingered near the handle of his Glock, just in case.

  Fifteen minutes later, no one else arrived to meet Nia. Instead, she was still at the piano playing various songs, strung together back to back. She was practicing.

  Evan crept up to the doorway to check her
status, then casually strode out of the building. Once outside, he pulled out his cell phone.

  “Raymond.”

  “Hey, Ice, any intel?”

  “I followed her to a community center in Dorchester. As promising as that sounds, I don’t think I got anything useful to the case, unfortunately,” Evan replied in an annoyed tone. “Listen, were there any other sources of income when we looked at James’s finances?”

  “Nope, just what she made at Worthington, and a small investment portfolio. Why?”

  Evan walked to a secure spot where he could still see the entrance to the community center.

  “Well, it looks like she tutors music, or something,” he told Raymond, then gave him a quick summary of what he had observed.

  “Maybe she’s paid in cash?” suggested Raymond. “Let me see what I can find online. What’s the name of the center?”

  They had their answer with a few search results.

  “She volunteers music lessons in a program for underprivileged kids, Ice,” Raymond confirmed, and Evan pinched the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t have her name on the website or anything. It just says that the center has a volunteer program that runs on the weekends. So it’s the only thing that makes sense. She’s a fucking philanthropist.”

  “Tell me about it,” Evan spat. It was hardly the picture of the coldhearted, scheming vamp involved in a daring jewelry theft. The facts on this assignment were becoming more confusing by the moment.

  “I’m sending you a picture I took. I’m not sure you’ll be able to get anything off it, but she was talking to a man for a few minutes. Looked like a relative of the student she was tutoring. Maybe the father, or something. But let’s check him out anyway.”

  “Sure thing, Ice,” Raymond confirmed before they hung up.

  A few minutes later, the front door of the center opened and Nia walked out, bouncing down the front stairs with extra enthusiasm. Evan watched her progress, his brows furrowed by one perplexing question: Who was the real Nia James?

  Chapter 9

  Evan parked his car in front of Nia’s apartment at one o’clock. The street was busy with activity as kids played outside and pedestrians headed to their various local destinations. As he stepped out of the Bentley, he could feel their eyes measuring him up. Even in dark jeans, a golf shirt, and leather loafers, it was obvious he was out of place in this modest, middle-class neighborhood.