Leila pulled free without answering. She wanted to run, but she was breathing so fast it felt like she was going to hyperventilate. Eric had been a track star in high school. Was there really any chance she could outrun him?
Would he kill her himself? Make it look like another mugging gone wrong?
Her hands fisted again, her breathing evening out, becoming more measured, deeper, as anger replaced her panic and disbelief. If he’d killed her father, she wasn’t running away, hoping to save herself. She was fighting. She was making sure there was no way it would look like anything but a deliberate murder if he killed her. If fury mattered as much as brute strength, she’d take him with her, the man she’d once loved so deeply.
That fact made his betrayal so much worse.
“Leila,” Eric whispered. “What’s happening right now?”
His tone was worried, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something she couldn’t quite identify.
“Hey, Leila, I was wondering—oh!”
Leila spun toward the sound of Theresa’s voice and found the head of R and D in the doorway of her office.
Theresa was looking back and forth between her and Eric with surprise and concern. She was also backing away, as if to give them privacy. “Sorry about that. I can come back la—”
“Theresa!” Leila’s voice came out too high-pitched and she tried to breathe deeply, calm herself down. Even though it made her want to cringe, she clutched Eric’s arm and gave him her best “follow my lead” look.
His forehead creased and his lips turned up, telling her he either didn’t understand what she was doing or didn’t believe it.
Pretend you still think it’s Theresa, Leila told herself, as the way out came to her. Pretend you’d been freaking out because you found something to suggest Theresa was the traitor.
Could she pull it off? Avert Eric’s suspicion long enough to tell Davis, to get him to check out Eric? Maybe even avert his suspicion long enough to save her life? Because if Eric was willing to kill her father over this, he was probably willing to do the same to her.
“It’s come to my attention that you didn’t ever want me to be CEO,” Leila said, making her tone aggressive and taking a step toward Theresa. She mentally apologized to the woman, who’d never been particularly friendly with her, but as far as Leila knew, had never publicly questioned her leadership.
Theresa shook her head, but she seemed more baffled at the sudden outburst than denying the accusation.
“Worse than that, Theresa, I’m seeing signs that you’ve—”
“Is this about the security card discrepancies?” Theresa cut her off. She sighed heavily, meant to be heard. “Your assistant already grilled me about this. Didn’t he tell you?” She frowned, glancing from Leila to Eric.
Leila followed her gaze. Eric wasn’t looking at Theresa, but at her. There was still suspicion in his gaze, but it seemed more like confusion than malice.
“Look, you’re right,” Theresa blurted as Leila continued to stare at Eric, uncertainty hitting.
Had she misinterpreted the records? Could there be some other explanation? Hope filled her. Eric’s friendship when they were kids had altered the trajectory of her life. And she knew Eric’s assertion that her father was the dad he’d never had wasn’t one-sided. Her father had loved Eric like a son. She desperately didn’t want all of that to be tainted.
“I don’t think you should have been made CEO,” Theresa continued, as Leila only half listened. “But I’ve never said that publicly. Within the company, I always supported you. I did my best to protect you. I felt like I owed it to your dad. And your uncle, even though I shouldn’t really owe him anything.” She let out a nervous-sounding laugh that was unusual enough from always confident Theresa to get Leila’s full attention.
“Why not?” Leila asked.
“Why not what?” Theresa squinted at her, her expression saying she wasn’t sure if Leila had totally lost it or if she legitimately needed to defend herself and her loyalty.
“Why wouldn’t you owe Uncle Joel anything?” He’d been the one to hire her after all, not Leila’s dad.
“Well, I mean, he should feel pretty good about what he’s gotten from me.” She flushed a little, shrugged.
“You and Uncle Joel...”
“Yeah, for the last couple of months again,” Theresa admitted, her gaze darting from Leila to Eric as her cheeks turned an even deeper red. “It’s foolish, I know. We’ve been on-again, off-again for years. It’s casual. Your uncle will never do serious.”
“How casual?” Leila asked as a new, terrible possibility nudged at her. Davis had told his team that Theresa, Eric and Joel were his top suspects. If Uncle Joel had been dating Theresa, he could have easily swiped her card. Maybe even borrowed her car.
She tried to shrug off the idea. She loved her uncle. He loved her. He’d half raised her. And he loved her dad. The two brothers had grown up with abuse so bad that Leila had never met her grandparents. Uncle Joel and her dad had been incredibly close, until her dad had met her mom. Even afterward, they’d stuck together. Uncle Joel had taken over her dad’s company at a time when it would have folded otherwise.
He’d saved her father’s livelihood, ensured they still had the money to send Leila to the best schools. But that act had also given Uncle Joel a level of access to everything that he never would have had otherwise. It had given him contacts and opportunities. And he was often out of the office, something she’d never questioned because of all the years he’d put in holding the company together. What if he’d spent that time using the company for his own gain, the way he did women?
No way, Leila told herself, ashamed for even thinking it.
“...a charmer,” Theresa was saying and Leila tried to focus, realizing the woman was talking about her relationship with Leila’s uncle.
“It wouldn’t have lasted anyway,” Theresa said, still flushed a deep red. “I know you and your uncle are close, but there’s a reason he’s got a reputation with women as a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy. He’s...” She shook her head. “Never mind. Jeez. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. And I don’t know why there’s suddenly all this scrutiny on my access card, but whatever you suspect me of, I didn’t—”
“He’s what?” Leila pressed, ignoring the rest of it.
Theresa shrugged, then said softly, “I don’t know if he’s really capable of loving anyone.”
Theresa apologized, tried to backtrack, but Leila was only half paying attention. Words her father had spoken years ago, with embarrassment and a hint of shame popped into her mind. “He’s just unreliable, honey. He’s always in things for himself.” It had been so long ago, before her mother had died, one of many times her uncle had promised to show up for something, but never appeared.
But he’d changed. Hadn’t he? She couldn’t possibly have misjudged him so thoroughly.
Leila clutched her stomach, which churned as she realized that if Uncle Joel had taken Theresa’s access card to swap out the armor, if he’d been the one betraying the company for cash all these years, then it was so much worse than even thinking Eric had done it. It would mean Uncle Joel had killed his own brother.
“Leila.”
Eric’s tone, full of dark realization, snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, gripping her arm. “I know I promised I wouldn’t, but...”
He looked from her to Theresa as Leila snapped, “What? What is it?”
“I told your uncle that Davis is FBI.”
* * *
BECA WAS GOING DOWN.
Not all of the members, because the loosely connected organization had members across the country. But enough that Kane felt really good about today’s arrest plan.
Except for one thing. No matter what argument he threw at her, Melinda refuse
d to be shut out of the arrest.
Even now, she was babbling on in profiler mode, acting like she had any right to fish around in his mind.
He’d thought that when they’d last argued, when she’d revealed—intentionally or not—that she’d had some deep loss of her own, she’d back off. That she’d let him take the lead and she’d fade into the background, focus on the paperwork and the profiling. Let him dive into the danger. The way it should be, each of them focusing on their strengths.
But if nothing else, Melinda was persistent and stubborn. Even if she didn’t want to work with him at all.
The idea stung. It was ironic, given how hard he’d tried to make her feel that way. Now that she did, he half wished he could take it back.
But not right now. Not with a dangerous large-scale arrest happening on a group known for its propensity for violence and a stockpile of ready weapons. The FBI had gotten a tip that a group was meeting that night. The arrest warrants had come in and the plan was to make a big arrest, grab a bunch of them before word could get out and anyone could run—or arm themselves and prepare for a standoff.
He didn’t want Melinda anywhere near it.
“This is still about Pembrook’s daughter,” Melinda insisted, and Kane couldn’t believe her audacity.
He ground his back teeth together, trying to hold in the anger that always rushed forward when anyone dared to bring up that incident.
“You’re scared I’m going to get hurt like she did.” Melinda kept pushing.
“Not hurt,” Kane snapped. “Dead. She’s dead.”
“And I’m not her,” Melinda stated, making him want to slap his hand over her mouth to shut her up.
Or maybe slam his lips against hers. Different method, same end result. She’d finally have to shut up.
“Let’s go.” Laura’s voice preceded her. When their teammate finally appeared at the doorway, her expression as buttoned-up as the rest of her, she gave them a searching glance. Then she added, “Whatever you two are arguing about this time, maybe save it for after the big arrest.”
Then she was gone and Melinda was staring back at him, with eyebrows raised.
“Fine,” Kane said on a heavy exhale. If Melinda wanted to rush into danger, instead of staying in the office and doing her profiler work, so be it.
He strode past her, following the rest of the team out to the SUVs. On the way, he grabbed a submachine gun and slung it over his gear. Then, he climbed in.
This was going to be a dangerous batch of arrests, the kind the FBI would often hand off to one of their SWAT teams. But Pembrook had felt confident her team could handle it, and no one was about to suggest otherwise. In deference to the level of threat, every agent crammed into the SUV wore more gear than typical. They all had body armor—not from Petrov Armor, thank goodness—and even helmets.
The submachine guns weren’t standard issue, either. They were usually reserved for tactical teams. But tonight, that was the agents of TCD.
Kane glanced at Melinda as she hopped on board. The SUV had been converted, so the backseats had two rows facing each other. She sat across from him, looking even smaller than usual weighed down with all the extra gear. She stared straight at him, her face an expressionless mask. But there was something in her gaze that looked like nerves.
His gut clenched. She didn’t have the same level of experience on these kinds of arrests as the rest of the team. Sure, she’d been a regular special agent once. Then she’d traded in the field for an office where she could analyze the mind-set of serial killers, terrorists and zealots. She didn’t belong here.
But that wasn’t his call.
He tried to hold in his anxiety, but it only got worse as the SUV started up, heading toward the site of the raid. With so much undercover work, he rarely felt anxious. But when he did, it always seemed to be a sign that something was going to go terribly wrong.
The last time he’d felt this much anxiety was the day Pembrook’s daughter had died.
Chapter Nineteen
Uncle Joel knew.
Eric had told him days ago that Davis was an undercover FBI agent. He’d never said a word to her. Never chastised her for giving the FBI such unrestricted access to the company. Instead, he’d gotten chummy with Davis, spent more than an hour out of the office with him in the afternoon.
What had happened during that time? If Davis still suspected Uncle Joel, why hadn’t he said anything to her? If Uncle Joel was really involved, what was his end goal with chumming around with Davis?
More than anything right now, she needed to know Davis’s whereabouts. He’d left that evening with barely a word to her. Deep down, she’d known he wasn’t coming back.
She’d called him three times in the last ten minutes, and each call had gone to voice mail. Maybe he was busy and she was overreacting. She didn’t believe he was the kind of guy who’d ignore her out of spite, not after the closeness they’d shared.
Then again, could she really trust her own judgment? She glanced from Eric to Theresa and back again. In the space of a few days, she’d suspected them both of being the traitor. Maybe one of those suspicions was right and thinking it was Uncle Joel was way off base.
But the way her stomach was churning with fear, horror and betrayal right now, she couldn’t risk that she was wrong yet again. She needed to find Davis.
If Uncle Joel had really murdered his own brother, what was one undercover FBI agent?
“I need your help.” Leila’s voice came out a frightened squeak.
“What do you need?” Eric asked as Theresa repeated for the third time since Eric had announced it, “Davis is FBI? Your assistant?”
“Yes, Davis is FBI,” Leila responded, turning to fully face Theresa, studying her expression. By now, she’d had a good ten minutes to disguise whatever she was feeling. If Theresa was the traitor, she was cool under pressure.
“So, that’s why he was asking about my access card,” Theresa said, sounding horrified. “I should have known you were lying about the armor. It was ours, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Theresa sank into the chair on the other side of Leila’s desk. She shook her head, sounding lost. “I’m going to be ruined. This might be your company, but I’m in charge of development. How did this get past me? We have so many checks in place.”
“Whoever did it knows every one of them and how to get around them,” Leila replied, thinking it less and less likely that the traitor was in the room with her.
“And you honestly think it was your uncle?” Eric asked, the pain in his eyes mirroring her own feelings.
He’d never been close to her uncle, so Leila knew that pain was for her. She was grateful for it, knew it reflected how deeply he cared for her. But right now, with Davis potentially in trouble, Leila knew for sure the words she’d spoken to Eric earlier were true. Their time was over. She’d fallen in love with Davis.
As Eric stared at her, the expression in his eyes shifted. He’d known her too long.
She shook her head, wishing he hadn’t realized it like this, wishing she could say something to stop the pain she was causing him.
Before she could say anything, Eric said softly, “It’s okay, Leila. What do you need?”
“We have to find Davis,” Leila said. “I know this is probably crazy, but I’m worried that he’s in trouble. If my uncle really is behind this—”
“You think Joel made the faulty armor?” Theresa asked, her face going deathly pale. “Why?”
“Money,” Leila answered simply. Part of her still couldn’t believe her uncle would ever betray his own family to such a degree. Another part of her, the part that remembered how her uncle had been before he stepped up when her mom died, said it was possible.
A sob ripped its way up her throat and Leila swallowed it, her eyes tearing with the effort. Now wasn’t the time
to grieve all she was about to lose if she was right. She needed to focus on making sure Davis didn’t get tricked like her father.
“Theresa, I need you to go to my uncle’s house,” Leila said, her voice strong and clear now that she was thinking only about next steps and not emotions. “See if he’s there. If he is, make up whatever excuse you need, but text me right away.” She turned to face Eric. “I need you to go to Davis’s house and see if he’s home. If not, I need you to call the FBI.”
“What about you?” Eric asked.
“I’m going to the remote testing facility.” They’d closed it down a year ago. Long-term, the plan had been to convert it into another armor testing location, but they didn’t need it right now. The ones inside the main office were enough. It made no sense for her uncle to be at the remote location.
But he’d loved to go to there. She’d find him there randomly when she’d stop by to do checks, back when they still sold weapons. He’d be shooting one of their pistols or even just hanging around. In response to her surprise, he’d always joke, “We make guns, Leila. We should at least get a little shooting in.”
“Maybe we should all stick together,” Eric argued. “Check each place out in order and—”
“No,” Leila cut him off. “Look, I’m probably overreacting here, but I need to be sure. And I need to know now. Can you do this?”
Theresa stood, her face still paler than usual, but with two deep red spots high on her cheeks. “Yes.” Then she reached across the desk and squeezed Leila’s hand. “Be careful. I know you love your uncle, but he’s got a dark side. If you find him, don’t let him realize what you suspect.”
Theresa headed out of the office, and Eric gripped Leila’s arms, turning her to face him. “Leila, this seems risky. I still think—”
She pulled free. “Eric, I don’t care what Theresa says. My uncle loves me. He’d never hurt me. You’re the one who needs to be careful. If my uncle is with Davis, just leave and call the FBI, okay?”
Secret Investigation (Tactical Crime Division Book 2) Page 17