Adrienne Giordano

by Relentless Pursuit

  “I’ll look at the budget as soon as I get upstairs. If I raise it, you need to control it. Only the necessary stuff. Got it?”

  For once, Jess simply nodded. “I’ve got it. I know this is a big weekend for you.”

  “For us,” Kristen corrected. “Have you seen Dad yet?”

  “I found him when I got here. He left before I woke up this morning.”

  “He was here early,” Billy said.

  He sure was. Kristen smothered a smile. Billy bumped her with his elbow and the moment of levity, the naughty shared secret, drifted between them until they finally gave in and laughed.

  Jess’s gaze darted between them as she waited for someone to clue her in. Realizing she was not the focus of the situation, she propped her hand on her cocked hip, slathered on her sex-kitten smile and said, “Billy Tripp, you are one fine looking man.”

  Wasn’t this typical? How many times had Kristen watched her sister pounce on a man solely because Kristen had an interest in him? It never mattered if it were a boyfriend, a casual acquaintance, a friend, whatever.

  The familiar pinch of jealousy pressed in and Kristen forced her shoulders back, fought the seed of worry that Billy would humiliate her.

  “Save it.” Billy turned to Kristen. “My attention is elsewhere.”

  A rush of air filled her. Finally, a man who could resist the temptation of Jess’s flirtations. Kristen stood taller when he ran a hand over her lower back. Nothing too intimate in front of her employees and guests, but enough for Jess to know her vicious plan had failed. Thank you.

  Jess didn’t look happy. Not if the miserable scowl was any indication. To make sure they knew just how far reaching her irritation went, she swung her tiny ass around and stalked off. Served her right for spoiling a perfectly civil conversation. And just when Kristen was starting to have hope.

  Billy inched his head back and forth. “You’re gonna yell at me, but your sister is a witch. She treats you like crap. With what you do for her, you deserve better.”

  He’s right.

  “Believe it or not, I won’t yell at you. Sometimes, sometimes, it’s okay when you don’t filter.”

  He opened his mouth and she held her hand up. “Quit while you’re ahead.”

  He snapped his mouth shut. “Good, boy. What’s next on Bradley J. Murphy?”

  “We head back to my war room to check out Reed Davis. I’m curious if there’s a reason Bradley J. was buying him a drink.”

  * * *

  Billy unlocked the conference room door with Kristen on his heels. He held the door open for her and she sauntered by, swinging her hips like the blazing hot chick she was. Telling Jess to shove it had scored him big time points. Big bleeping points.

  Life was good.

  “What do you know about Reed Davis?” he asked.

  She pulled a chair, sat and crossed her legs, giving him a glimpse of thigh under her short skirt. Unfortunately for him, she wore a blazer over her blouse, but at least the jacket lacked any major frump factor.

  “All I know about him is he owns Reed Records. They started as a rap label. Now they do R and B also. I think he’s from L.A., but I’m not sure. He’s a fixture around South Beach. Extremely visible in community activism.”

  Billy grabbed his laptop and sat next to M.H. “Let’s see what we can dig up on old Reed.”

  She leaned toward him and the front of her blouse drooped. Don’t look. He’d just keep his gaze glued to the laptop screen. Well, maybe just a quick gander. He shifted a glance in her direction. Wasn’t his fault he could see right down her blouse to the devastating red bra.

  “Hey.” Kristen smacked him on the head. “Quit looking down my shirt. You need to focus.”

  He grinned. “I am focused.”

  She tapped the laptop screen. “This guy donates millions to gun control and violent crime campaigns in Miami.”

  Now that the moment was shot to hell, he turned back to the laptop. “But stealing high-end cars isn’t a violent crime, M.H. At least not until they threw me to a gator.”

  “You think Reed has something to do with the stolen cars?”

  He shrugged.

  “Why not?” Billy scanned the results of his web search. “There’s a ton of crap on him. I’ll get Janet working on his financials. That’s not going to tell us much. If he’s in on this car theft ring, he’s going to hide the money in an offshore account somewhere. Worth a shot though.”

  “What can I do?”

  He pointed to the pile of papers in front of her. “Go through those meeting notes. See if there’s any reference to Reed Davis. Maybe something will kick.”

  Within twenty minutes, Billy had learned Reed Davis was an expat who grew up in the Middle East—mostly Saudi Arabia—while his father worked as an engineer. Fancy that after Billy’s visit from the beefhead with the accent. After returning to the States at age eighteen, Reed attended college and interned at a rap label. Eight years later, he started his own label and Reed Records was born.

  This damned Middle East connection coupled with the secret about the beefhead in the shed weighed on him. Time to come clean.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Kristen flip the last page of meeting notes and set it on the stack with the other’s she’d read. He spun the chair toward her and tapped his fingers against the table. “I gotta tell you something.”

  “Oh, Billy. Am I going to hate this?”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “Well then, go ahead and get it over with.”

  “Sunday morning I was checking the parking lot and three guys approached me. Actually, I was in the maintenance shed trying to find the door lock.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. These three guys corner me in the shed and they tell me to stay out of the car theft situation. They offered to pay me. They said if I didn’t play nice you’d have bigger problems than stolen cars.”

  She sat back and gripped the arms of her chair, her gaze steady on him, but otherwise he couldn’t figure out if she was mad or scared.

  He held his hands out. “Let me finish. I told them to shove it.”

  “Billy!”

  “I didn’t want to tell you. I was afraid you would freak and I didn’t see much good in that. I’m sorry.”

  “Were these the same guys from the gator incident?”

  “No. Different guys. The one guy from the shed had an Arabic accent and he said ‘khalas.’ That’s Arabic for it’s finished or no more. The night I threw Alex and Jess out of here, Alex said ‘khalas.’ Which is why I’ve been so bent on him being connected to these thefts.” He waved toward his laptop. “Now I find out that Reed Davis grew up in the Middle East. Kris, I’m thinking we have an international car theft ring in full roar.”

  Now she placed her hand over her mouth, her eyes a little wide. “And we’re in the middle of it.”

  “I think so.”

  She turned to the war board, stared at it a minute then walked to it.

  “It makes sense. All these little pieces. And again, you kept it from me.”

  “Hang on. At the time, I didn’t see how this information would change anything and I didn’t want to throw more on your plate. I didn’t want to scare you. I figured if something came of it, I’d tell you. Which I just did.”

  She turned back to him, her mouth twisted. “I can live with that. I hate that you kept it from me, but I understand why you did it. And why you’ve been so diligent about the hotel’s security.”

  “I thought I could control the situation. Plus, I wanted to be sure where my thoughts were going before I told you.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Did you find anything in those meeting notes?”

  “No. Mr. Murphy doesn’t specify the client’s name. He only refers to him, or her, as ‘client.’”

  Billy grabbed his phone and dialed Monk, who was still watching Bradley J.

  “Yo,” Monk said.

  “Anything?”

  “No. Murphy hasn’t
left his office all morning. No lunch break yet. I’m guessing any time now.”

  “You still in contact with that FBI guy from last summer?”

  “Sampson?”

  “Yeah. The one who wanted to screw Izzy.”

  Kristen threw her hands in the air and whirled on him. “Maybe we should have you tested for Tourette’s.”

  “Ack! Sorry.” Who specifically he was apologizing to, he wasn’t sure, but they both deserved it.

  Monk, his legendary patience holding up, let out a heavy breath. “Sampson. We coexist. Why?”

  “Need to find out what kind of car Reed Davis drives. He owns a record label down here and Jess says he met with our boy Bradley J.”

  “Call you back.”

  Monk hung up and Billy said, “He’s gonna let me know.”

  “What are you thinking about Reed Davis?”

  “Not sure. But I’m wondering if he could be the R and D in RDM Auto Group and MDR Auto. Nobody probably ever looked close enough to know.”

  Kristen moved her head side to side. “I’d be stunned. Stunned. Particularly with this latest development on Manny’s brother. If Reed Davis owns those dealerships, there’s no way he’s involved with them supplying copied keys to gang members. I’d bet he doesn’t know about the thefts. But, I’ll leave that to you to figure out.” She headed for the door. “I need to check on the senator’s guests and the prep work for the wedding tomorrow.”

  “Do you need me?”

  At the door, she turned back to him. “No. I’ll call you if something comes up. Will you be around this afternoon?”

  “Not sure. I may check out our friend Reed. See if I can find out myself what he drives. Crap.”

  “What?”

  He smacked himself on the head. “Monk has the P.O.S. car. Got no wheels.”

  “If you promise to be good, I’ll let you use one of the hotel cars.”

  “I could use your Aston.”

  She smiled at him in that sweet way that fired his engines. “No.”

  So much for his engines. “Dang.”

  “I’ll tell my assistant to get you a car. Don’t get into trouble. Please.”

  “Not me.”

  She huffed out a breath, but laughed. “Be careful.”

  “Always, sweet thing. Always.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Billy hauled his bored and tired self to his room thinking a shower, sex and a good meal—all with Kristen—would make his night. This Reed Davis thing was some hubba-bubba bullshit. He sat on that guy for seven hours and got nothing. Zip. Nada. To top off his mission of nothingness, he’d just followed Reed back to Dante. The man was now upstairs in Club Inferno.

  Billy slipped his key card into the lock and shoved the door open to find Monk stretched on the king-sized bed, watching SportsCenter.

  Monk muted the sound. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Me neither. Murphy went from work to his house. Bobby got here an hour ago and relieved me. I gave him a tracker to slap on Murphy’s car. What the hell? You’re spying on everyone else.”

  Some truth to that. Given the bad guys knew how to disable factory installed antitheft systems, paranoia or instinct, Billy wasn’t sure which, persuaded him to hide a tracking device on Kristen’s Aston. She’d be devastated if that ride disappeared and having his girl upset wouldn’t do. Nope. Not gonna happen.

  Except, they’d need a damned spreadsheet to keep all the tracking devices straight. “I’m nowhere on this thing.”

  Monk waved the remote at him. “You’re bored. When you’re bored you’re a pain in the ass.” He rolled and got to his feet. “Let’s go to the war room and run scenarios. See what pops.”

  “I’ve done that a hundred times.”

  Monk held his arms wide. “Not with me. Let’s hit it.”

  Billy checked his watch, glanced at the bathroom and the shower inside it.

  Monk gave him a shove. “You got somewhere to be?”

  Yes. He couldn’t say that though. In Billy’s opinion, this qualified as a real favorfuck. The guy was down here doing him a huge large, but was simultaneously screwing him out of getting laid.

  The tick-tock of his investigation clock boomed in his head.

  Damn.

  He reached for his phone, sent Kristen a text that he needed another hour. He hated putting her off. Maybe they’d stumble onto something and get done quick. Couldn’t hurt to be positive. At least that was his mantra on the way to the executive floor.

  “Gentlemen,” Kristen’s dad said from his office just beyond the conference room. “Working late?”

  Billy poked his head in the doorway. “Yes, sir.”

  An exceptional no-info answer. Last thing they needed was Tom Dante in the middle of this.

  “Good. I’d like to hear what you have.”

  Monk leaned back into the hallway and raised his eyebrows. No shit there. But was Billy supposed to tell the guy he wasn’t allowed?

  “Uh, sure. Fresh eyes never hurt.”

  At least until now.

  * * *

  Kristen stood outside the private dining room reading Billy’s text while the senator’s daughter enjoyed her rehearsal dinner. Billy wasn’t done yet. And people said she worked too hard? He was no slouch either.

  Well, she’d wait. And be grateful for it. This mission of his started over cars being stolen from her hotel. She knew it was no longer about the cars. It wasn’t even about the hotel. Billy was simply mad. Rightly so, she supposed, but his determination, that obsessive intensity she both feared and admired, could cause him to miss the danger.

  Could the constant chaos of him throwing himself headfirst into peril be indicative of his life? If so, she didn’t need it. She needed quiet nights and being settled. Getting attached to him meant never-ending movement and drama. He couldn’t help himself. The craziness was part of him.

  Some crazy couldn’t be fixed.

  She shook it off, ducked her head into the senator’s party for one last check with the hostess and headed to her office. Might as well clear some paperwork while she waited.

  As she unlocked her office door, voices from the conference room disturbed the quiet air. At least she knew where Billy was. She wandered down and halted in the doorway when she saw her father casually leaning back in one of the plush leather chairs while Billy pointed to something on the white board.

  What was this now?

  Fantastic. Now Dad was involved? And worse, Billy hadn’t even given her the courtesy of a phone call. In that initial moment it appeared her father’s arrival meant she was no longer needed.

  Would Billy freeze her out?

  She sure hoped not.

  “Hello,” she said.

  Billy glanced at her, but kept his features neutral. Stoic. Oh, yes, you might be in trouble.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “What are you all doing?”

  Dad watched her for a moment, his gaze steady. She tried a smile, but her father knew her well enough. “The boys are going over the results of their investigation. I asked them to fill me in.”

  Good save, Dad. With her faith somewhat restored, she grabbed the seat next to her father and waved Billy on. “I guess I’m just in time then.”

  Avoiding eye contact, he shifted to the board again, “We have a whole lot of pieces that aren’t fitting.” He tapped on Alex’s name. “Alex met with the BMW service manager. Turns out they went to high school together. I found that on the internet. My guess is Alex is the middleman and he’s getting the copied keys from this guy.”

  Kristen’s father turned to her. “Jess is dating this man?”

  “No.” Her father tilted his head, knowing full well she was protecting Jess. Old habits die hard. “Not anymore, anyway.”

  Billy cleared his throat. “We also have the antenna thing. Pretty damned slick. Since we installed the signal jammer, no cars have been stolen using the antenna. I suspect there’s someone inside the hotel feedin
g these guys info.”

  Please don’t let it be Manny.

  Billy glanced at her and offered a small nod. He’d guessed exactly where her mind had gone. How had he gotten to know her so well? Too well, she feared. That small nod though, it allowed her to push aside thoughts of Manny being involved.

  “There’s too much that’s convenient,” Billy continued. “Based on the info we have, the thieves are targeting guests staying more than a few days. Probably so they can get the keys copied in time. Bottom line, someone in this hotel is giving these people information.”

  “How do we narrow that down?” Kristen asked. “You’ve already questioned the employees who have direct access to schedules and guest information.”

  Billy shrugged. “I don’t know. Complicating things is that all this data comes from different departments. The drivers’ schedules come from one department, the guest info another and the cameras are dealt with by security. Sure, some of those functions overlap, and one person could have access to it all, but it’s not obvious who that person is. The security guys have access to the guest info, but not the drivers’ schedules. They’d have to ask for that and I’m not finding anyone who has.”

  Tom Dante held up his hands. “How is Reed Davis involved?”

  “Reed Davis.” Billy turned to Monk. “By the way, he drives a Jag. A fascinating coincidence since I think he’s the RD in RDM Auto Group. Anyway, we hit on the dealerships after we researched all the residences and businesses Alex had visited.”

  “And you knew this how?” Kristen’s father asked.

  “GPS,” Billy said.

  Dad nodded as if it was no big deal, and Kristen eased out a silent breath when he didn’t pursue it.

  Billy tapped Bradley J. Murphy’s picture on the board. “That’s how we got to Bradley J. and his law firm. Kristen didn’t recognize any of the names on the list and suggested we do a search for the registered agents.”

  Her father sat forward and held one hand toward the board. “You think Reed Davis owns RDM Auto as a front for a car theft ring?”

  “Sir, I honestly don’t know. He may be the owner, but he might not know anything about the thefts. All I know is I saw Alex meet with the service manager from RDM Auto and accept a large envelope. Then Alex, on behalf of Bradley J., sent Reed Davis his favorite drink last week. Several times. These guys are all associated with each other through the dealerships. Like I said, it’s a bunch of individual pieces that don’t fit.”