Stealing Gold (The Logan Series Book 4)

by Sally Clements

  “You flew in last night?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a long week.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Just get on with it, Ben.”

  Ben grimaced. He opened a file he’d carried from his desk. “There were some anomalies in your tour account, so I hired a PI to investigate. I hate to tell you this, Stacy, but Lester and your accountant have been robbing you blind.”

  Shock slammed into her. “He…” She couldn’t get the words out. Soon after their wedding, Adam had said the same thing, that he didn’t trust her manager. She’d shut him down for even suggesting such a thing, and divorced him less than a month later.

  Her stomach twisted, and the monkeys jumped faster. “The accountant, maybe.” Lester had employed a new one while she was on tour, a Mrs Kensington. “But Lester, no. I saw him yesterday.” And he’d been freaked out and sweating, desperate to make the deal. Now he was missing. She checked her cell phone. No new messages.

  Ben shook his head. “I know you want to believe that. Hell, Lester’s been your manager for years, hasn’t he?” He pulled a piece of paper from of the file, and placed it on the sofa between them. “Numbers never lie. Our suspicions were raised when he called a month ago and requested a check be drawn up to him personally for fifty grand. Then he transferred money he shouldn’t have had access to into a variety of different accounts. This one is in Switzerland.” He pointed at an entry on the page. “And this is in the Caymen Islands.”

  Ben smelled good. Clean, with the top notes of his expensive cologne. He looked good too, in a young executive way. He’d asked her on a date once, but there was no point in dating without that spark, so she’d turned him down. They weren’t close friends, but he’d proved himself honest and reliable in the past and she trusted him.

  “The rest of the file contains all the details our accountants could uncover. He’s skimmed a fortune from your most recent tour, and this could be just the tip of the iceberg.” Ben patted her hand. “I’m sorry. I know you were close.”

  “He discovered me.” Her voice sounded calm, devoid of emotion. “He’s been in charge of my career since before I even had one.” Pain bloomed in her chest at the ultimate betrayal. For ten years she’d been ruthlessly focused on her career—she’d given up so much... and the knowledge that her manager had been stealing was a body blow impossible to take. “I trusted him.” She’d been a fool. A stupid, malleable idiot. The fact that she had been fourteen when she’d first signed on the dotted line to make Lester her agent wasn’t relevant. She wasn’t a kid now. And at some stage during the last ten years she should have checked closer into what her manager was doing. She should have…

  “He had an unbelievable package as your manager.” Ben leaned back into the sofa’s plush cushions. “I can’t be the only person to have told you his deal was way higher than industry average.”

  “You’re not.” The one person she should have listened to had told her exactly the same thing months ago. “So, what happens now?”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “I left him in Los Angeles yesterday. He was to fly back with me, but he said something came up.” She tried his number. “It’s off.”

  Ben nodded. “We need to call the police.”

  Over the hours that followed, the depths of Lester’s deception became clear. The private investigator explained to a small group made up of Stacy, Ben, a police detective, and an FBI agent, just how and where Lester and his accountant had been skimming funds.

  “We’ve been watching Mrs Kensington for a while. She’s a professional.” The tall, laconic FBI man, Agent Black, leaned back in his chair.

  “A professional what?” Stacy swallowed.

  “A con artist.” Black’s dark gaze pinned her. “But she’s not conning your manager, Miss Gold. They’re in it together. We have to catch them before they leave the country.”

  Her cell phone buzzed on the coffee table, diverting everyone’s attention. She grabbed it and peered at the screen. “It’s my bodyguard. Excuse me.” She walked to the window, out of earshot before answering. “Hi.” Her voice sounded tired. Beaten.

  “Sorry to bother you, boss. I’ve been trying to contact Lester, but he’s not answering his cell.”

  She grimaced. Stared out of the window at people walking around in the sunshine, enjoying life.

  “My check bounced.” Apollo’s tone was apologetic, as if he really didn’t want to bother her with his problems.

  “Lester has screwed us over.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m in Kickin’ Music Tours’ offices with the police and the FBI. He’s emptied the company bank account, and stripped whatever he could from the tour profits.” Her hands were shaking. “They’re tracking his cell, but it looks like he’s on the run.” She screwed up her eyes tight.

  “He what?” Apollo sounded incredulous.

  “Can you email me details of the check that bounced? I can’t handle anything else now—I’ll transfer money to you from my personal account this afternoon.” If there’s anything left.

  “Are we still going to Ireland on Wednesday?”

  She’d called Clint Bailey at Star Records half an hour ago. Though shocked, he’d been adamant that this drama shouldn’t overshadow the deal she’d done with Plaxtair. That the movie deal should go ahead as planned, and that he was counting on her to pull this off. He confirmed that he’d received her songs, and would listen to them while she was away.

  “I’ll deal with Plaxtair,” he’d assured her. “The contract is between you, Plaxtair and Star. I’ll get it amended to take Lester’s name off it, and get them to stop the payment. He shouldn’t grab one more cent off you, Stacy. Pack up, chill out, and get on that plane to Ireland. I’ll handle everything.”

  “Stacy?” Apollo’s voice sounded in her ear.

  “Sorry. Yes. We’re still on to go to Ireland. There’s not much I can do here. I just feel such an idiot, you know?” A tear slid down her cheek, and she brushed it away, angry with herself at surrendering to her morose mood.

  “You should have someone with you.” Apollo was the ultimate macho male, protective and steadfast. “You mentioned Adam in your speech, and you were wearing his ring.”

  “It was our wedding anniversary. I guess I got a little nostalgic.” She remembered her husband’s vivid blue eyes. The way he’d gripped her shoulders, begging her to listen, to take his concerns seriously. “I was wrong to disregard his warnings about Lester.” Her heart squeezed at the thought of the man Adam had been at the beginning of their relationship. Sweet, kind, and sexy. He’d taken such care of her, had made her feel like the most important person in his life. Pain lanced through her. Until he’d slept with someone else.

  Even though it could never happen, a soft, weak part of her longed to have his arms around her right now.

  “Call him.”

  Stacy shook her head, then, realizing Apollo couldn’t see her gesture, said: “I can never call him again.”

  “He told me to contact him if you ever needed him. And right now you do.”

  Apollo didn’t know the whole story. No-one did, except her and Lester.

  Chapter Three

  Mlle Cécile Brünner had been brutally murdered.

  Someone had hacked the climbing rose off the front of Stacy’s house and disposed of the evidence. In its place lay an insipid, chrysanthemum stuffed flowerbed.

  Stacy shuddered. Something was wrong—very wrong. There was a strange car in her driveway. And someone had painted her cherry red front door bilious green. She turned off the engine, and climbed from the car.

  With her being on tour for most of the past year, her house was in the care of a house management agency. She fished her cell and her key out of her purse and stalked to the front door. Whoever was responsible for murdering her rose bush was about to learn there was nothing passive about this ‘country cutie.’

  She shoved her key into the lock, but it wouldn’t turn. “What the hell?” She leaned on the doorbell, h
earing it’s familiar peal sound in the house’s interior.

  There was the rattle of a chain being attached, and then a blonde stranger opened the door a crack. “Can I help you?”

  “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?”

  The woman’s eyebrows shot up. Or attempted to; it was difficult to tell after all the botox. “What do you mean, who am I? This is my house.” She attempted to close the door, but Stacy had wedged her cowboy boot into the gap, preventing it closing.

  The woman gasped, then she glanced behind her and shouted: “Howard!”

  A heavyset man joined her. He closed the door briefly to unfasten the chain, then opened it wide. “What’s this about?”

  Stacy pulled in a deep breath. “This is my house. I don’t know what you think you’re trying to pull…”

  Dawning recognition appeared in the man’s eyes. “You’re Stacy Gold.” He nodded as though congratulating himself on working it out. His tense shoulders relaxed. “You’re confused,” he said in a voice no doubt meant to placate. “You used to live here, but we moved in three months ago.” He glanced behind her. “Are you alone?”

  “This is my house.” Stacy located the number of the house management agency and called it. “This is Stacy Gold. Someone is living in my house.”

  There was a gasp on the other end of the phone. “I’ll transfer you.”

  After a few moments of silence, a man came onto the line. “Miss Gold, I…uh…you sold the house three months ago.”

  Shock thundered through her, and she turned her back from the curious stares of the couple on the doorstep. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t sell my house. It’s supposed to be being redecorated. I own this house. No-one has the authority to sell it without my say-so.”

  There was a shuffling of papers. “I’m holding the title deeds right here, Miss Gold. The house was owned by you, but Mr Lester Jones presented documents transferring the title to Jones Entertainment. Mr Jones oversaw the sale of the house himself. All of your personal effects have been moved to a secure holding facility.”

  Nausea roiled in Stacy’s gut. “Mr Jones had no authority from me for that.”

  “I have your signature—verified by a solicitor.”

  “You don’t have my signature, you’re holding a forgery. Don’t leave your office, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” She terminated the call, and swung around to the couple at the doorstep. “How much did you pay for it?” she asked.

  “That’s none of your—”

  “How much?” She clenched her hands into fists.

  “Twelve million,” the woman said, folding her arms.

  “The sale was fraudulent.” She shoved the useless door key into her bag. “Get your umbrellas out, there’s a shit storm coming.”

  *****

  That evening a call from the desk downstairs alerted Stacy to Apollo’s presence in the building.

  “Send him up.” She opened the door, and glanced along the corridor to see her burly bodyguard exiting the lift, carrying a couple of large pizza boxes.

  “Hey.” Relief flooded her at the sight of a friendly face—in the hours since she found strangers in her home she had been buffeted by blow after blow. The FBI were adamant that her house was hers no more. More employees had contacted her to report that their payments had bounced, and the accounts department of Kickin’ Music Tours’ were working overtime to aid her with emergency financial triage.

  She felt battered and bruised. Alone, and damned lonely.

  “Hey, how are you doing?” Apollo flashed a warm smile.

  She walked down the corridor to give him a hug.“One hundred percent better for seeing you.” They entered her room. “I’m sorry about your check. I got your email this morning with your details, and I’ve made a direct payment into your account.”

  “That’s fine.” Apollo shrugged it off as though it was nothing. “I called Adam.”

  Her stomach clenched at the thought of her ex.

  “He asked me to pass on his new cell phone number. He wants you to call.”

  Surprised, Stacy’s mouth gaped for a moment before she realized and snapped it shut. “He isn’t coming?” Once upon a time, he’d have climbed aboard the next plane at even the hint that she might need him. Nothing would have stopped him. With an empty feeling inside, the truth dawned. Those days were over. “I guess I can’t expect him to still care.”

  “He cares.” Apollo rubbed the back of his neck, as if talking about another guy’s love life was akin to visiting the dentist for a root canal. “Look, he cared more than anyone. When you broke up, he called me every week to check how you were. Lester changed his cell phone number because he was so sick of Adam contacting him. That snake even made it part of my duties to make sure that Adam on no account ever be allowed to approach you.”

  “I..I didn’t know.” She’d refused to answer Adam’s calls. Had deleted his texts unread. After a while, he’d stopped calling, he’d given up. Or so she thought.

  “He still cares. He was concerned when I told him the news. I’m sure if you need money...”

  Money? Did Apollo really think it was about money? “I can honor my responsibilities. I’ll manage.” She’d swallow nails before she asked Adam for money, but to be honest, money would be a problem, and soon. Kickin’ Music’s team of forensic accountants were swarming through her books like ants in sugar. Their report would doubtless uncover more unpaid debts and fraudulent dealings. The check she’d cut for Apollo wouldn’t be the first.

  “How is Adam?” Her mind rewound to their first meeting at a cosplay convention in Vegas. After she’d signed with Lester in her teens, there had been precious little childhood left, but she’d always loved superheroes in movies and on tv, and loved those crazy conventions where she got to dress up and indulge her inner geek. No-one ever recognized her at those things, and last year’s convention had been no different. She and Adam chatted in the queue for autographs. Continued talking all through dinner, and over a bottle of wine in his hotel room all through the night.

  He had no idea who she was, even when she told him.

  He gave her the bed, and slept on the sofa.

  He kept his hands to himself, and let her shower first.

  The decision to sneak off to the convention had been quickly made—and she really should have gone back to her own hotel, but spending every moment with Adam was a lot more fun.

  They met on a Friday, and by Monday she’d dragged him off the sofa to his bed. She loved everything about him. His slightly distracted air while he worked on his laptop. The fact he would eat sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs and baked beans for every meal if he could, and love it. His delicious Irish accent. The curve of his mouth. The taste of him.

  He made glasses look sexy.

  They’d married in haste. And when reality pushed its way back in, she’d frozen him out and smashed what they had.

  She’d blocked every memory, every thought of him since their divorce. She’d moved on without him, chasing the dream of fame and celebrity. Of making the man who had been her manager, a father figure to replace the drunk who’d given her his name, happy and proud.

  “You know Adam, he’s polite.”

  “Has he married again?”

  Apollo shrugged. “I don’t know.” The look he gave her conveyed more eloquently than words ever could how much Apollo knew she’d hurt her ex husband. He pulled out his cell phone. “Like I said, he wants you to call him.”

  The thought of calling Adam after all this time, made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

  “He could call me though; you gave him my number.”

  Apollo nodded.

  I’m sure he’ll call. That hope lived for hours. After Apollo left, and between meetings with her lawyer, and the hapless house management company, she waited for Adam’s call. She developed an addiction to checking her cell to make sure it was still working, because it was almost inconceivable that he wouldn’t even call.<
br />
  By the time the sky was darkening with the arrival of twilight, she surrendered and called the number Apollo had tapped into her contacts.

  It went to voice mail.

  “You’ve reached Adam Logan. Leave a message. Or text. It’s easier.” Brusque, to the point, muttered in a deep, husky voice so instantly familiar, her heartbeat accelerated.

  “Adam. It’s Stacy. Could you call me back?”

  Twelve hours later, he still hadn’t called back. So she texted. “I need to see you.”

  His reply came back instantly. “You will.”

  Chapter Four

  Adam’s phone rang a couple of minutes later.

  “Hi.”

  The first word she’d spoken to him since they’d been a married couple. Since he’d left for work that morning, thinking they were happily in love until he’d come home to find her, and all her things, moved out.

  “Hi, Stacy.” He breathed deep. “I hear you’ve been having some problems.”

  “That’s a bit of an understatement. My entire life has fallen apart. I should have listened to you about Lester. I don’t know what trouble he’s gotten himself into, but it must be big. I’ve just discovered that not only has he stolen my money, he’s also sold my house from under me.”

  There was no satisfaction in learning he’d been right all along. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I feel such a fool.”

  “Do you need money? I can transfer money into your account to tide you over.”

  “No. I’m fine. I have enough for now, and I’m doing some work, so that’ll help. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for not believing what you told me. I know my apology is a long time coming, but I regret the way I acted.”

  She didn’t mention that they’d be working together; she couldn’t know yet.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t wish you any unhappiness—I know how you felt about Lester. Your trust was misplaced and at the time I was furious at the way you handled things, but now it doesn’t matter any more. You and I are history.” He shrugged. “And there’s no point in holding a grudge.”