by Desiree Holt
The look Avery gave her was heavily tinged with sympathy. “Nothing that’s going to make you happy. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t look good.”
Devon’s head was beginning to feel like someone was pounding anvils inside. “Just—tell me what it is. At least I’ll know what I’m facing if and when we find him.”
Avery swiped to a page on her tablet. “In a situation like this it’s always about the money. Follow the money is the golden rule, so that’s where we started, with Cole International, the big money machine. We’re just at the beginning but I want to fill in some blanks.”
“Like?”
“There’s just no good way to say this. Were you aware that your father had some financial difficulties a few years ago?”
Devon wet her lips. “Vaguely, but not the details. Cash crunch, he told me. He was very worried about it for a while. But I thought that was all straightened out. He got a private investor.”
“Did he ever tell you who that was?”
“No, but it must have really helped.” Devon dug back into her mind trying to remember. “That’s when he decided to move down here, buy that land, and build that huge house. Is that important?”
“Just trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. So you’re saying that when he moved down here, you got the sense everything had been fixed?”
“Yes.” Devon nodded her head, then decided that was a bad idea. The anvils were still clanging away. “He seemed a little more relaxed. Not quite as edgy. He said he needed to get away from Tampa and the house he and my mother lived in for so long. And he was tired of the city. I think he just needed the change. Losing her nearly destroyed him.”
“That kind of loss can be devastating,” Avery agreed.
“I was pretty sure the financial problems had been solved because he was relaxed again and taking some time to enjoy life. I even went sailing with him a few times.”
“When you visited, did he introduce you to people?”
“A few.” She wrinkled her forehead, trying to search her memory. “We usually had lunch at the Driftwood. That’s where I first met Cash Breeland. The others came later.”
“Okay.” Logan’s voice was soothing. “Just think for a minute. When did you notice a change in him again?”
Devon took a long swallow of her coffee, trying to straighten out her brain.
“Maybe about a year and a half ago. Now that I think of it, he was on edge a lot. Again.”
Avery leaned forward. “Did he say anything to you?”
“Not much. When I asked what was wrong, he said just a little business problem he was wrestling with. He was sure he’d figure out a way to handle it. He’d always solved problems before so I had no reason to question him. I just tried to give him space. I didn’t want him to shut off again like he did before he got the investor.”
“You know his company was built with companies, not a specific product, right?”
“Excuse me?” Devon was confused. She hadn’t ever really known a lot about her father’s business. When he was first growing it, she’d of course been way too young to understand. As she got older she hadn’t been all that interested. Teenage stuff was followed by college stuff and followed by her first two jobs and finally setting up her own business. For that she’d approached Graham to ask his advice, and he’d sent her to his attorney. She’d thought it strange at the time that he didn’t sit down and discuss the ins and outs with her, but her mother smoothed it over by saying he had great demands on his time.
“It means,” Logan said, “that he started out buying a company. Then another company became available for sale and he had the cash to acquire it. Then the next one, and pretty soon he’d laid the foundation for Cole International.” He looked at Avery. “That right, boss?”
She nodded. “The problem with doing it that way is if one division falters, it can bring down the entire corporation unless it’s handled properly. Four years ago when he had those money troubles, he was on the verge of having to dump a lot of the unprofitable subsidiaries. That would have greatly decreased the overall value of Cole International.”
“God! That would have killed him. That corporation was his lifeblood. He always said it was a testament to what you could do with no money but a lot of grit and determination. If he lost it, well, you can imagine.”
The pounding inside her skull got louder. She closed her eyes and tried to will the pain away.
“Here, Devon. Take this.”
She opened her eyes to see Avery standing there holding a glass of water and three tablets.
“Acetaminophen. Take them. If you rub your temples any harder, you’ll have holes in the sides of your head.”
She popped the tablets in her mouth and drank almost the entire glass of water. “Thank you. That should help. It’s just turning into a bitch of a day.”
And it started so nicely.
“Back to your father.” Avery settled behind her desk again. “The red ink explains why he was so desperate. The infusion of cash from the private investor allowed him to pull those subsidiaries out of the red and before long they were all showing strong profits.”
“What else?” Devon asked. “I can tell by your tone of voice there’s something wrong here.”
“We know the money was filtered through a company called SMX.” Avery cleared her throat. “I had one of our agents who happened to be in the area check on it. I’m sorry, but it’s nothing more than a one-room office, manned by a woman whose sole job is to monitor the computer and answer the phone. It’s just a shell corporation.”
“But that’s absurd.” Devon swallowed. “If everything was being funneled through this shell corporation, where did the cash come from in the first place?”
Avery set her tablet on the desk and leaned forward.
“Our point exactly. I’m betting the answer will be our friend, Cruz Moreno. It’s even possible that Pellegrino was the one who set it all up to begin with. He was vice president for corporate finance, right?”
“Yes.” Devon had the feeling she’d suddenly landed on a very slippery slope. She tried to take another sip of the coffee to steady her nerves, but the liquid had gone cold so she set it on the little table next to her chair.
“Moreno needed a place to clean his money from the sale of drugs and guns. Make it grow even more. Cole International was tailor made for him.”
Devon thought she might faint.
“Drugs? Guns? My father?” She swallowed. Hard. The coffee she’d managed to get down threatened to roll back up from her stomach. “That—that he was involved in those things? God.”
She was damn glad she’d taken the pills from Avery. Otherwise her head might have exploded.
“Drugs seem the biggest and more logical possibility,” Logan said.
“So you’re saying the money came from Moreno?” Devon asked.
Logan nodded. “Remember the men who waylaid you on the highway? The one who spoke had a Spanish accent.”
Devon curled her hands into fists in her lap, holding herself together by a thread. She couldn’t fathom that her father was in bed with a drug dealer. That he’d accepted money from him.
Avery leaned forward. “It’s a good bet your father has every bit of data on the cartel on those hard drives, information that could crucify them. It was his protection and he let them know it. That’s what everyone is looking for.”
“Of course! You’re absolutely right. You think Alford and Bodine were sent by Moreno to get it?”
“That, and I’m sure there’s stuff on there about them, too.”
A chill raced along her spine.
“And then,” Logan added, “it becomes a question of just how Cole International got into financial hot water to begin with. And whether it was your father who somehow dragged them into it or they did the dragging.”
Devon
pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I never even thought he might have been set up. But then, why would I?”
“We still don’t know who Cruz’s money man is,” Avery reminded them. “If it was Pellegrino, how and why was he killed? Was it Alford? Bodine? As attorneys, they’d be in a prime situation to broker deals. Or someone we don’t even know?
“We’re going to figure it out,” Avery assured her, “and find the right threads to pull. I promise you. That’s what we’re doing.” She slid a glance at Logan. “Let’s wrap it up for now. Go home.” She grinned. “Have a drink.” Then her face sobered. “And Devon, write down everything you can think of. Even the smallest detail can be a help. Computers can give us all the raw data we want, but only you can give us an idea of his physical and mental state.”
“I’ll do what I can. I have to have some answers here and find out where he’s gone.”
Avery came out from behind the desk. “Take her home, Logan. She’s had two days that would wreck anyone. Make her get some rest. The minute I have anything to add to this I’ll call you.”
“Good idea.” He tugged Devon out of the chair. “I think a nap might be just what’s ordered now.”
“I’m not sure I can sleep,” she mumbled.
“Hold on.” Avery went to a cupboard against the wall, took something out, and handed it to Logan. “Peppermint tea bags. They do wonders for anything that ails you, including a bad case of nerves.” She winked at Devon. “And if all else fails, have that drink.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Logan assured her.
Devon noticed Avery raised an eyebrow when Logan put an arm around her to lead her out of the office. If he didn’t care, she guessed she didn’t either. Right now, all she wanted was to get out of here.
“Do you want someone following you back to the house?” Avery asked.
Devon’s stomach cramped. “You think they’ll be waiting out there again for us?”
“Anything is possible. Well, Logan?”
“No. I’m prepared for them this time. Remember, my car is bulletproof. Theirs isn’t.”
“Okay. Make her get some rest,” Avery repeated, as she ushered them to the front door. “Sleep, Logan. Sleep.”
Devon caught the edge to Avery’s voice. If she discerned something going on between the two of them, would she replace Logan? She’d somehow have to make sure that didn’t happen. Even in such a short time something very intense was building between them. Crazy as it sounded, she didn’t want to let go of it.
Then they were in his truck, heading back to the house, and she clung to his hand holding hers like it was the only lifeline out there.
Chapter 9
Logan didn’t know if he should try to talk to Devon on the drive home or if silence was better. God only knew he’d seen plenty of people in shock before. Usually it happened when they were confronted by death or extreme violence of some kind. The episode on the road, the phone calls, the explosion on the boat, and someone ransacking Lady Hannah were bad enough. Now came the news about her father. Although Vigilance was still digging, it was patently clear Graham Cole had been involved in something less than legal.
Somehow she’d found an inner strength to keep it together, but she looked like she was sliding down to the end of her rope. She sat beside him still as a statue and so pale he wondered if she was going to pass out.
“I can feel you thinking.” Her voice was quiet, but stronger than he’d expected. “I’m okay.”
“I know you are. You’ve just had some information thrown at you that would be hard for anyone to absorb.”
“I’m good. Really. I think I’m tired more than anything. I didn’t sleep well last night. Plus the past two days have been unsettling to say the least.”
His heart turned over. Everything she did, everything she said, reminded him so much of Amanda. The same strength. The same determination. The same unwillingness to let situations defeat her. He’d known a lot of women who thought they were strong, yet who either crumbled at the first sign of disaster or lost it altogether.
And he wanted to talk to her about what happened between them…was happening. He hoped like hell he didn’t scare her off but it was there between them, and he knew she felt it, too.
As soon as they were in the house he reset the alarm, then took a mug down from the cupboard.
“I think I’ll combine both of Avery’s prescriptions. Just sit at the table for a minute while I get it ready.”
He watched her lower herself into a chair, slowly as if she might fall over. He didn’t bother with Avery’s tea bags, instead using a pod for the fancy machine on the counter. While it brewed, he headed into the den and returned with a bottle of bourbon.
“I spotted this when I was checking out the den yesterday. I think it’s just what Dr. Malik prescribes.”
She managed a tiny smile. “Dr. Malik writes good prescriptions.”
When everything was ready, he set the mug in front of her. “Drink slowly, it’s hot. But drink it all down.”
He went over to the computer on the counter, tapped some keys, and began scrolling through the camera footage for the time they’d been gone. He tapped a few more keys and the screen returned to normal. “No news is good news. No visitors while we were gone.”
“You thought someone might have tried to break in?” she asked.
“Yes.” He bit off the word. “They want the location of your father. They probably think he left some clue here.”
“But you didn’t find anything when you looked,” she reminded him.
“Graham scoured this place pretty good, but that won’t stop someone from trying.”
Devon cradled the mug in her hands, sipping it slowly. Logan fixed coffee for himself and sat down with her.
“Drugs and guns.” She said the words slowly. “I still can’t get my head around the whole thing. Logan, my father has always been a respected businessman. Even when I was a young child and he was still building Cole International, wherever we went I saw the admiration people had for him, especially those in the business community. When the first articles profiling him began to appear, my mother was so proud. She showed all of them to me. So how does a man so well respected end up in bed with drug dealers and gunrunners?”
“A question only he can answer.” He took Devon’s empty mug from her hands. “Why don’t you lie down and try to nap a little. While you’re sleeping, I’ll raid the freezer and fridge and throw some dinner together.”
Her lips curved in a tiny smile. “Are you going to be the live-in chef until this is over?”
He shrugged. “I like doing it. Unless...” He studied her. “Unless you’re saying you want to take care of the meals.”
She laughed. Just a little one, but it was a laugh. “Heaven forbid. I’d poison us both. My cookbook consists of takeout menus from every restaurant within a ten-block radius of my apartment.”
“No kidding?”
She cocked her head. “You aren’t one of those men who thinks a woman’s place is in the kitchen, are you?”
“Now it’s my turn to say heaven forbid. Or hell no. So why don’t you try to catch a nap. I’ve got some work to do and I’ll rustle up a meal.”
“Is there some special reason you want me to get in bed? Or are you just trying to get rid of me?”
Why the hell am I always putting my foot in my mouth?
“You said you were tired,” he said. “I thought maybe you could stand a little sleep.”
She stared as if waiting for him to say something else.
“No ulterior motive,” he assured her. “If I—never mind.”
“Logan, if you’ve got something to say just spit it out. We’re going to be living in this house together for the foreseeable future. If there’s a problem, that won’t work. So tell me what’s on your mind, because I know something is. You said
we’d talk when we got back here, so talk.”
When would he ever learn to keep his mouth shut?
“How about if you rest or nap or read or whatever you want to do? I’ll do some work on my laptop. Then we’ll have a nice dinner, maybe with some wine, and we’ll talk.”
“Are you saying you need to get drunk to tell me what’s on your mind?”
He wanted to snap back at her, frustrated with the situation he’d gotten himself into. Then he looked at her and saw that little smile teasing her lips again.
“You’re yanking my chain.”
“Mmm, maybe a little. You’ve been uptight since we walked back into the house.”
He had and he knew it. He wanted to tell her what he was feeling and why it happened so fast, but he also didn’t want her to kick him out the door. He was counting on the fact that everything indicated she was feeling it, too. But as strong as he did? As intense? And after not even forty-eight hours?
Jesus, Malik.
She laughed again, a soft sound but the first time he’d heard it since he saved her from those two thugs on the highway.
“Never mind. I think I need to occupy my mind more than put it to sleep. I’m going to set up my computer and printer. I need to check my e-mail, and I have clients I can’t ignore for too much longer.” She pushed herself to her feet.
“I didn’t even ask you. What do you do?”
There went that smile again. “I’m sure it’s all in whatever file Avery sent you, but it’s nice of you to pretend you don’t know. I’m a graphic designer. I do everything from book covers to brochures to marketing materials to whatever the client needs.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding.” She picked up her purse that she’d dropped on the table. “Listen, Logan. What I heard today is a lot for me to process, and we’ve probably only got the tip of the iceberg. I need some time to myself to think about it. There’s a desk in my room so I’m going to set up my stuff there. Then we can both work on our laptops, only I’m sure mine won’t be nearly as interesting as yours. Answering e-mails is mindless enough work that I can let my brain try to sort everything out.”