by Lexi Blake
“You have to know, Ms. Hawthorne. Is that or is that not your signature on the checks?” Ian pointed to the signature, his voice hard and unrelenting.
“Yes. I signed the checks.”
“For Evan Parnell?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t really know what it was for. Matt asked me. I pay out petty cash and all of his personal stuff. It’s his company, his money. If he wants to pay seventy-five dollars a month for a box somewhere, I guess I thought that was his business.”
“But the box was in your name.”
She bit her lip and remained silent.
Ian went on.
Black leaned in. “You know, Wright was always good with the ladies. He always kept one or two on his string to do his bidding. He never liked to leave his mark when a pretty woman could do it for him. Of course, he tended to kill them when he was through, but he enjoyed them while it lasted. She’s probably in love with him.”
“She isn’t sleeping with him.” Sean spat the words out. He didn’t believe that particular accusation for a moment. “He hasn’t touched her.”
Black now turned to him, giving Sean his full attention. “Really? And you know this, how?”
Sean forced his voice to remain even. It had been a mistake to react. Black might be the client right now, but he was still Agency. He could turn in a second. Ian would be pissed if he knew Sean had given Black information like that. “I’ve had Ms. Hawthorne under surveillance for several weeks. I think I would know if she had a lover.”
The only lover she had was him. He was sure of it. She hadn’t lied about that.
Black’s eyes narrowed, but then he turned back to the interrogation room. “Wright can be tricky. You just never know with him. So, this woman he killed today, you think he was after Hawthorne and got her friend instead?”
This he could talk about. “I believe so. Kayla Green was following a pattern set by Ms. Hawthorne. She was wearing Grace’s coat and carrying her umbrella. They’re roughly the same height. It was raining pretty hard. In the rain, I would have mistaken Kayla for Grace. Hell, I did. I followed her. He probably realizes his mistake by now. I have no doubt he’ll try again.”
A reptilian smile crossed Black’s face. “Yes, I believe he will, too.”
A cold feeling settled in Sean’s gut as he watched Black. The man seemed very content, and that wasn’t a good thing. Sean could tell he was already trying to figure out how to use Grace to his advantage.
“What did Ms. Hawthorne say when she learned her friend was dead?”
There was a moment of complete quiet before Adam spoke up. “We haven’t told her yet.” He paused. “We thought Sean should do it. He’s the best one to handle her.”
Sean glanced back at Adam. He seemed to want to talk, but knew that now was not the time. They didn’t air their dirty laundry around the clients. Sean nodded slowly and turned back to Black. “She’s a little fragile right now. I thought it best to get her through the interview before I brought that up.”
“Unless she already knew Wright was gunning for her and that was why she sent her friend out there.”
“Not a chance.” The words were out of his mouth before he could call them back.
Black studied him carefully for a moment. “It’s a simple thing, you know. What was this daily ritual she had her friend perform instead of her?”
“Coffee. She always makes a latte run at three in the afternoon.”
Black shrugged and waved a hand. “All she has to do is cry a little. Pretend she’s had some trauma in her life. Women are very susceptible to little dramas. She’s a widow. She could say she missed her husband and felt a little blue. A female will do a lot to make a friend feel better, even walk through the rain to get her a cup of coffee when, I’m sure, the break room probably has one.”
“I don’t believe it,” Liam said, speaking for the first time since the interview had begun.
Black stared at the Irishman. “Why? Are you an expert on the woman? I thought Mr. Taggart was the one assigned to…take care of her.”
Sean didn’t like the way he said it, but Liam was already responding. “After listening to her talk for days, I can definitely say I feel like an expert on the woman. She talks to herself. A lot. Nothing she’s said, no conversation she’s had over the phone or thing she’s murmured to herself while getting ready in the morning has given me a single hint that she’s capable of what you’re accusing her of. I’m going with Eve on this one. The lady is innocent. We should remove her from the line of fire and move on.”
Black was like a dog with a particularly juicy bone. “Perhaps she knows you’re listening.”
Liam’s eyes rolled. “Not a chance. If she had, she wouldn’t have sung the soundtrack to ‘Wicked’ while she was vacuuming. The girl can’t carry a note. She’s truly awful. Trust me, no one sings like that if they know they’re being listened to. Also, she talks to her breasts. She asks them why they won’t sit properly in her bra. Who does that?”
“She could be very savvy.” Black wasn’t listening to a thing anyone said.
A strange calm settled over Sean as he listened to Black. Black made perfect sense. Grace could have used her breakup with him as an excuse to send Kayla out as cannon fodder. If she was a ruthless thief, it would be easy for her to send her friend out to take the knife for her. Sean’s brain worked overtime as he watched Grace. She was so lovely sitting there. She was perfect, and that was the problem. He didn’t trust his instincts. Grace seemed perfect, therefore there must be something wrong with her. Black went on. Somewhere Sean could hear the man talking about how Grace could be fooling them all, but Sean was finally calm enough to ask the pertinent questions.
Who was Grace Hawthorne? Grace Hawthorne was the type of woman who could easily write out a check for something when she wasn’t sure exactly what she was buying. She would do it because she trusted the people around her. Grace Hawthorne was the type of woman who was loyal to a man who had given her a chance even when that man was a wretched alcoholic. Sean felt his heart twist inside his chest. Grace was the type of woman who would follow a man she thought was cheating her boss even though it put her in danger.
God, he hoped Grace was the type of woman to give a man who loved her a second chance.
“She didn’t have anything to do with this,” Sean said, a deep calm settling inside him. He trusted Grace. It was far past time he shoved aside his role as an employee. He wasn’t an agent anymore. He was Grace’s lover, her Dom, and it was time to protect her. He brushed past Black.
“About damn time.” Adam sighed as he walked past.
Sean took the ten steps from the small viewing room to the interrogation room door. He slipped in the room, and ignored Ian’s wide-eyed stare. Grace turned to him, her eyes bright and focused for the first time in an hour. He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, sliding his hand onto hers. “Go on. Answer the question. It’s going to be all right.”
They needed to get through this. It wouldn’t go away, and there was no way to hide her from it.
Grace’s face contorted sweetly. She stared at him for a moment, but she didn’t move her hand away. After a brief pause, she turned back to Ian. “I don’t know Matt’s brother. He talks about him, but mostly after he’s had a few, if you know what I mean.”
Sean squeezed her hand. It was the most animated answer she’d given the whole interview.
Ian’s eyebrow arched aristocratically. “So you’re telling me you didn’t know that Evan Parnell is really Patrick Wright?”
Grace’s eyes widened, and she clung to Sean’s hand. “No. Until Sean told me, I had no idea. I don’t see how I was supposed to know. I’ve seen pictures of Matt’s brother. He doesn’t look anything like Evan.”
Sean leaned toward her. He was painfully aware of Black stepping into the room. “Babe, he probably had a lot of plastic surgery. Some criminals with cash change their appearance to get away from the law, or in this case, his former employer. He probab
ly did it in Central America. He seems to have some ties both there and in Asia. Wright is trying to avoid the law and the Central Intelligence Agency.”
“So Evan Parnell is related to Matt, but he never told me?” She chewed on her lower lip.
“I’m sure he didn’t want you to know. When exactly did Parnell show up?” Sean knew the answer from the paper trail, but he was curious to see it from Grace’s view.
“A couple of years ago. We ran into some serious trouble moneywise. I never got a real explanation as to why. The books all seemed good. Matt said it was the economy, but we had contracts rolling in. I always suspected Matt had done something he shouldn’t have with the money.”
Sean nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging fashion. That was exactly what they suspected had happened as well. Matt Wright liked to gamble when he drank. He played deep and not well. “So Parnell came to your boss a couple of years back?”
“Yes. He said he was trying to take his custodial service to another level. He’d done some work in the Northeast, but had to move. He didn’t have any contacts in Dallas. We hadn’t offered custodial services before. I was surprised. Matt’s a bit of a snob. He liked that he repped IT services. It had a cache in our world.”
“But an IT temp would be watched, Miss Hawthorne.” Black eased into the chair beside Ian. “They would be very restricted in their access to the systems and the building.”
Grace leaned over, her shoulder brushing against his. Sean could practically feel the anxiety rolling off her. “Who is he?”
Black frowned and leaned forward. “I’m the man who will decide your fate, Miss Hawthorne.”
Grace turned to face Sean. “I have a fate?”
Sean checked his chuckle. He leaned in. “He’s a drama queen, little one. He can’t help it. He’s with the CIA. They take a class or something.”
Sean caught his brother’s brief smile before Ian covered it up.
Eve didn’t bother. She laughed out loud. “Grace, this is a man who calls himself Mr. Black. He works for the CIA. He used to be Patrick Wright’s handler.”
Black turned his stern expression on Eve. “Thank you for the introduction, Ms. St. James. I might have preferred to keep some of that information to myself. Ms. Hawthorne doesn’t need my biography to answer my questions.”
“You’re on American soil, Black,” Sean interjected. “She doesn’t have to answer any of your questions. She could just get a lawyer.”
“Sean…” Ian’s warning was interrupted.
Mr. Black leaned forward. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If she does that, I’m afraid she’ll be implicated in the death of Kayla Green. That’s the kind of thing that doesn’t go away. Once the press gets a hold of that story, it will follow you, Ms. Hawthorne.”
Grace’s hand went slack in his, and Sean watched all of the blood drain from her face. “What did you say?”
Sean tried to pull her hand back in his, but she moved away. If Sean could have killed Black in that moment, he would have.
Black smiled the smooth smile of a predator who knew he had the upper hand. “I was talking about the death of your colleague. She was found murdered in an alley. It was by a coffee shop.”
“Grace, I meant to tell you.” Sean’s words felt impotent.
Grace wasn’t listening. “Kayla’s not dead. I saw her this afternoon. She just got stuck in the rain.”
“How could you tell her that way?” Eve sounded outraged.
“Black, this is neither the time nor the place.” Ian’s jaw tightened.
“Oh, but it is. It’s obvious to me your group isn’t what I thought it was. You’re supposed to be the baddest of the bad, but you’re treating this suspect with kid gloves.” He turned back to Grace. “Your friend is dead. I believe she’s dead because Patrick Wright mistook her for you. As to the method of her demise, Wright was always a big proponent of knife play. He preferred it to a gun. You should ask your gallant swain there. He is the one who found her body.”
Now Grace was looking at Sean. Her hazel eyes accused him. “You knew. You knew what happened to Kayla, but you didn’t tell me?”
He kept his voice low, trying to keep the matter between the two of them. “Grace, I was going to tell you, but when we were alone.”
“We just spent an hour alone, Sean. It didn’t occur to you to tell me then?”
It hadn’t. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. He’d been too concerned with making love to her, with marking her as his. He hadn’t wanted to deal with anything but the need to be close to Grace. “I was going to tell you tonight, when we go home.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Sean. Either you thought I would know because I had something to do with it, or you decided it was up to you to control whether or not I knew my friend was dead.” She turned back to Black, obviously dismissing Sean. “Why would Parnell, I mean Wright, want to kill me?”
Sean wanted to wipe the smug smile off that son of a bitch’s face.
“Well, Ms. Hawthorne, I suspect you know more than you’re telling us, or more than you think. Did you care for your friend?” Black asked.
“I loved her.” Her voice was soft. What she said was true. There was no question in Sean’s mind. She loved her friend, and she was falling right into Black’s trap.
“Then the only way to help her now is to catch her killer.”
Sean was on his feet in an instant. “That is not going to happen.”
Black wasn’t paying attention to his show of righteous anger. He leaned toward Grace. “I believe you’re the only one who can make this right.”
Grace threaded her hands together. They made a tight fist on the table. “What do you need me to do?”
* * * *
There was a brief knock on the door, but Grace didn’t bother to bid the person to come in or stay out. She knew who it was and nothing so simple as words would keep Sean Taggart out when he wanted in. She would have locked the door to the big bedroom she had been shown to after the “interview” was over, but she suspected Sean would have used a key or simply kicked the door in. He had skills she had never dreamed of.
Over the last few hours, she had learned an awful lot about her lover. He was former Special Forces. Sean Taggart had been a decorated Green Beret working the most dangerous missions the army had in Afghanistan. He’d worked for the CIA before, while he was in the army, and as a contractor in the States. He was a dangerous man.
He was also a man who knew a whole lot of cuss words. He’d used some words Grace wasn’t even sure were English on Mr. Black when Grace had agreed to help. Then he’d used a few on her.
Grace sat on the bed while the door opened, and Sean entered carrying a huge tray. It hurt to look at him. He was so gorgeous. He was a solid presence in a world that now seemed completely off kilter. She wanted nothing more than to toss this whole problem in his lap and allow him to solve it for her. It would be easy to do. He would let her. All she had to do was give the word, and Sean would take over. She would be hustled off someplace safe. He would handle it.
And he wouldn’t look at her the same way again. She remembered his words that first night they had made love. He wanted a partner. Even though she didn’t intend to be that partner, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words that made her just another clinging sub to him.
“I brought you dinner.” He stood at the foot of the bed, his words small and seemingly cautious.
“I’m not hungry.” The thought of food…then the smell hit her. She looked down at the tray he set on the bed. It was as elegantly set as any restaurant she’d been in. There was silverware, a china plate containing a small, crusted serving of something that smelled delicious, a salad, a wine glass, and a carafe of white wine. “Is that a pie?” It didn’t smell sweet. It was savory and reminded her she hadn’t eaten in hours and hours.
“It’s comfort food, little one. It’s a chicken pot pie.”
“I don’t like that.” They always tasted like cardboar
d and bland soup.
“That’s because you’ve never had one from scratch.” He set the tray down and climbed onto the big bed beside her. He cut into the pie and held out a forkful. “Open.”
Her mouth was open before she thought about it. He’d used that Dom voice on her. Grace was about to close her lips when the taste swept across her tongue. Her eyes closed in decadent surrender.
She could hear the satisfaction in Sean’s voice. “See. It’s very different when you use fresh ingredients. And the pastry is my mother’s recipe.”
Grace gave in. She took the fork from him. He seemed slightly disappointed, but gave it up. He was such a mass of contradictions. He was a big, strong warrior who knew how to handle a gun and make a piecrust from scratch. He was a Dom who took such loving care of her, but had thrown her to the wolves.
She mustn’t ever forget that last part.
Sean poured her a glass of wine. Grace reached for it and then remembered the last time he’d served her. Something about that night didn’t sit right. That night she’d had exactly two glasses of wine and passed out. Grace knew she wasn’t a heavy drinker, but she’d spent enough time at happy hour to be able to handle some wine. She slid a narrow glance at Sean. “Is this one drugged, too?”
He flushed. Grace was pretty sure he didn’t do that often. “No. I won’t ever do that again, Grace. I promise. If it helps, I thought I was protecting you at the time.”
Grace took a tentative bite of salad. She didn’t really want to eat, but she had to keep her strength up. She had to walk back into the lion’s den in the morning. “Not really.”
She set the fork down as the events of the day washed over her again. How could Kayla be dead? How the hell could Kayla, sweet, vivacious Kayla, have met her end in an alley? Tears welled up.
Sean swept the tray and all its contents off the bed in an instant and was back to her, his strong arms pulling her to his chest. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers sinking into her hair. “Oh, baby, it’s all right. Go ahead and cry. I’ll take care of you.”