The jealousy jarred him. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this way about another woman.
But with Daria, he didn’t want just sex. He liked being around her. Enjoyed sharing her home, her conversation, her time. When he thought back on his life, he realized that he hadn’t known until now how empty it had been. Between intense missions traveling with the Shey Group, he’d spent the majority of his time on his computer. His hobby had turned into a career that had separated him from close human contact outside the Shey Group and prevented him from making friends, casual or otherwise.
He now thought of his pre-Daria time as lonely, a place to which he had no intention of returning. That his decision couldn’t be unilateral bothered him. Daria needed his investigative skills and she’d enjoyed their lovemaking, but he had no idea how she really felt about him. And he doubted she knew, herself. The woman was guarded about her emotions, closed up. But that would make the reward of convincing her that she had deeper feelings for him all the more challenging. And Ryker did love a good challenge. All he had to do now was decide on a plan—one that would convince Daria that she wasn’t just responding to him because he happened to be handy, but because they were good together.
On the surface they seemed so different. But after spending time with her, he realized that they had more in common than he’d ever have believed possible. Both of them took their work and their commitments seriously. They both did their jobs to the best of their abilities, and both of them tended to focus on work instead of their private lives. He figured they meshed nicely. Even when he left for other missions, Daria would have her work.
For the first time, he admitted to himself he was falling in love with her. And he was smart enough to know that what he felt was special. But he had his work cut out for him. Daria didn’t seem too inclined to return his feelings. However, he did like a woman who presented a challenge.
Beside him, Daria didn’t even glance at the glass case full of cold cuts, salads and pastries. Her gaze went straight toward the rear where Mike Brannigan had commandeered a corner table. He’d stood the moment Ryker and Daria came through the door, but Mike also took a good look at Daria’s legs before raising his eyes to greet them. And Ryker didn’t like the man noticing her legs—not one damn bit.
Ryker had had more difficulty finding parking than he’d had shaking O’Brien off his tail, so they’d arrived several minutes late. And from the impatient look on Mike Brannigan’s face, he didn’t like to be kept waiting. The knowledge that Daria had a history with Brannigan shouldn’t have bothered Ryker. In his past relationships he’d never cared who had come before him or who came after him. But with Daria, he wondered if she still had feelings for the man. She’d only told him that when Mike had displayed as much interest in her business as in her, she’d broken off seeing him. Had Mike hurt her?
Ryker thrust the disturbing thought from his mind. Her personal past had nothing to do with him. And he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted from the case.
Mike leaned forward to hug Daria but she offered him her hand instead. After the two men shook hands and seated themselves, a waitress immediately approached and they gave their orders.
“What’s wrong, Mike?” Daria asked the moment the waitress left. However, her tone was calm, almost as if she suspected this meeting was simply another attempt for Mike to convince her to sell him her business.
Mike kept his voice low. “How strong is Harrington Industries right now?”
Not Harrington Bouquet, but Harrington Industries—her father’s company—the one Peter was being groomed to run.
Ryker had to give Daria credit. When it came to business, she had the best poker face he’d ever seen. That really threw him, because in her personal life he found her much easier to read. But she gave nothing away. No hint that Shandra had come to her asking for a loan or that things might not be going so well with her father’s business.
Daria calmly picked up a sesame seed bread stick. “What have you heard?”
For once Ryker fully appreciated her method of attacking when she felt defensive. Although she had to be eaten up with curiosity, by her stoic expression, she could have been discussing the weather.
And he was much relieved not to feel any male-female subtext between her and Mike. If the two were ever involved, they were obviously finished.
“The powers that be at Homemart think Harrington Industries is ripe for a hostile takeover.”
Daria shrugged. “Amicron’s hostile takeover bid failed last year. And Dunstan Limited tried and failed two years before that.”
“Yeah.” Mike lowered his voice even more. “But now there are rumors that your father’s company has cooked their books. That they’re cash starved. Vulnerable.”
“Every major company has faced those kinds of rumors since Enron collapsed. It’s not like you to believe them. And I don’t understand why you’re so concerned that you had to interrupt our weekend.”
Mike ignored Daria’s implication that Ryker and she were together, having a pleasurable day until he’d interrupted them. Ryker knew otherwise. The meeting with Cindy had upset Daria more than she’d admitted.
Mike leaned forward, his face intense. “Because this is different. Ware’s on the board of directors at Homemart.”
Interesting. Ryker plucked a pickle from the tiny bucket on the table and crunched away while he thought hard. The name of the D.A., her father’s enemy, kept turning up in the unlikeliest of places. Ryker made a mental note to add the man to his computer search. Although he couldn’t picture the prominent district attorney planting evidence against Daria, he certainly had the power to make her computer disappear from the police evidence room.
Daria pointed at Mike with her bread stick. “And why are you telling me this?”
Mike slapped the table with his palm, causing the water glasses to quiver. “Because Ware doesn’t just want Harrington Industries. He wants Harrington Bouquet, too.”
And Mike also wanted Harrington Bouquet. Maybe this was another meeting to try to convince Daria to sell Mike the business. He certainly was persistent, but was he dangerous?
He couldn’t have determined from Mike’s sophistication now that he had grown up on the rough side of town. From the superficial background check, Ryker knew Brannigan had attended Ivy League schools and taken some computer courses, but that meant nothing. Many people were self-taught hackers. He had no military background either, but he’d known enough not to talk on the telephone.
Daria placed her bread stick down. “I’m a private corporation. No one can force me to sell. And my bank has said nothing about the morals clause.”
“But what if Ware puts you in jail? The bank will certainly be concerned then about your company’s debt. Won’t you have to sell then?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Did it ever occur to you that if you sold Harrington Bouquet to me you wouldn’t be such a large and attractive target for Ware to come after?”
Daria leaned back in disgust. “I don’t want to hear this.”
Mike turned to Ryker, his eyes gleaming with fervor. “Make her listen to reason. Sure, I want the company, but I think Ware wants it more. And despite how things ended between Daria and me, I don’t want her to end up in jail.”
Mike had made his case with a zealous intensity. But he hadn’t given them one fact they could check. Ryker didn’t operate on rumors. He needed hard evidence.
“Care to tell us where you came by this information?” Ryker asked.
“No. I don’t.”
Ryker picked up a sour tomato and nibbled. “Why not?”
“Because I’m already jeopardizing my career by telling you what I know.”
“You expect me to believe you came here out of the kindness of your heart?”
“I’ve made no secret that I want to buy Harrington Bouquet. The acquisition would be a coup for my company. I’d probably get a bonus from my grandfather and maybe a promotion. However, I’m also co
ncerned over Daria.”
Daria spoke quietly, but her tone left no doubt about her displeasure that the two men’s discussion was going on as if she weren’t there. “I’ll take care of myself. And my company.”
Mike rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Fine.” He threw a few bills down on the table to cover the lunch he apparently had no intention of eating. “Just remember that I warned you.”
He stalked off just as the waitress returned with their food. She frowned at the money, then looked to Ryker for an explanation.
He patted the empty place setting, indicating she should leave the extra sandwich. “He had to go. But now there’s more for us.”
Daria sighed and ignored her food. “I’m glad someone’s hungry.”
His mouth full, Ryker shrugged. When he could again speak, he picked up her uneaten bread stick. “Mike’s given us several more things to consider.”
“You mean Ware?”
“Yeah, and I want to dig deeper into your father’s company. But first, let’s go see your bookkeeper.”
SAM LIVED ALONE in an immaculate apartment on the Upper West Side. Daria had expected the student and bookkeeper to have roommates and live in a hovel, probably due to his age and the fact that he always acted as if he was broke. But when she thought about him she realized that Sam was tight. He never put quarters into the candy and soda machines. He brown-bagged his lunch. And she suspected he cut his own hair.
However, he had a great sound system, a flat-screen television and a pricey computer with a laser printer. On the kitchen counter was a two-line phone system, a set of keys and a pager. She knew his parents weren’t paying for his college education, and he couldn’t afford this place on what she paid him, so where did his money come from?
Sam welcomed them into his living area with a cheery grin, his eyes clear and friendly behind his thick glasses. He wore jeans and a Polo shirt and had a cell phone clipped to his belt.
“Come in.” He puffed out his chest, proud of the place. “Cindy called and said you might be coming over.”
So much for surprising him.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, gesturing for them to take seats on his navy leather couch.
“No, thanks,” Daria said.
“Nice system.” Although Ryker’s glance at the computer equipment might appear casual, Daria knew it was thorough, but she didn’t have a clue what had caught his interest.
Sam’s glasses slid onto his nose, and he pushed them back up. “Cool, huh?”
“How do you afford all this on a bookkeeper’s salary?” Ryker got right to the point.
Sam grinned. “I’m day-trading. Doing pretty well for myself.”
Daria already knew that Ryker would check out this information the moment they returned to her apartment. While Sam seemed open and much less harried than he was at work, he appeared almost overly friendly. At work, the kid she knew barely spoke to her other employees and appeared to have the social skills of a certified nerd, yet here on his home ground he seemed confident, almost boastful. And again she thought that no one was what they seemed.
Not even her. She pretended that she alone could handle her business and the stress of being the primary suspect in a murder investigation, but the truth was entirely different. She had come to depend on Ryker in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. But as much as she tried to deny her feelings, she could only distract herself for so long before they emerged again, each time stronger and more insistent.
During this interview with her employee, she counted on Ryker to ask the right questions. But just as important, her emotional connection to Ryker gave her the strength to get through this ordeal.
Ryker straddled a stool. “The markets have been mostly down recently.”
Sam shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. I make money whether the stocks go up or down. I have a computer system…”
Ryker stood, and strode over to the blank computer screen. “You wrote a program that predicts the market? Can I see it?”
Sam shook his head. “Sorry. I’m going to write a book—after I make my fortune.”
“So how come you’re still working for me?” Daria asked, realizing that although she couldn’t put her finger on what was bothering her, Sam’s story didn’t add up.
First Cindy and now Sam had more money than she’d thought possible. She would have considered embezzlement—except the wholesale end of her business was done by check and neither Sam nor Cindy had signing authority—only Daria could do that. And neither Sam nor Cindy could have funded their lifestyles with petty theft out of the retail cash drawer. Besides, neither of them had access.
Perhaps Cindy had inherited the money for the down payment on her home. Perhaps Sam was a wildly successful day trader. But why had Cindy called Sam to tell him they were on the way over? Obviously they knew one another better than Daria had thought. Before today she wouldn’t have thought Cindy knew Sam’s home phone number.
Sam’s phone rang and his pager went off. He ignored both.
“Aren’t you going to answer?” Daria asked.
“Voice mail will get it.”
The moment the phone stopped ringing, it started again. Then line two lit up. Sam strode over to his phone and turned off the ringer.
Clearly he didn’t want to talk in front of them. When his cell phone rang next, he reset it to vibrate. “Sorry about that.”
While the phones were now silent, Daria could see the lights of the phone lines continue to light up. Daria shifted in her seat to watch Sam’s eyes. “Sam, are you running your day trades for other people?”
“I don’t have a license.”
While he hadn’t admitted culpability, he hadn’t denied her allegation, either. Was that how Cindy had made her money? Had she given her inheritance to Sam to play with in the stock market? Was that why she’d called to warn him?
“Is that why you were arrested for racketeering?”
“How’d you find out about that? I was a juvenile. The records were supposed to be sealed.”
She didn’t answer and Ryker changed the subject. “Sam, how well did you know Elizabeth?”
“I didn’t go into the store often. We said hello on the occasions we bumped into each other, that’s it.”
Fallon would have had no need for Sam’s investment services. But Daria wondered if Elizabeth had known about Sam’s sideline. “You never spoke with Elizabeth on the phone?”
“She was straitlaced. She kept her money in a cookie jar. She wasn’t interested in the market. In fact, she thought playing the market was gambling.”
So Sam had talked to her about investing money. So what? This was getting them nowhere. None of this could explain Harry’s and Fallon’s or Elizabeth’s murders.
Ryker folded his arms across his chest, his voice firm. “All right, Sam. Either you come clean right now or I’m calling the police.”
Daria hadn’t a clue where Ryker was going with this. But he looked fierce as hell and twice as dangerous.
Sam tried to stand up to Ryker but his eyes widened in fear. “What are you talking about?”
Ryker stood perfectly still and let his no-nonsense voice do his threatening for him. “Day traders need an Internet connection. You don’t have one.”
Ryker’s accusation shredded Sam’s confident demeanor into tatters. The kid started to shake and he stammered, “D-don’t call the c-cops.”
“Then don’t lie to me.” Ryker took one step in Sam’s direction.
Sam cracked. “The day-trader thing is a cover.”
“For what?” Daria asked.
Sam stared at his shoes. “I lend money to people. And they pay me back more than they borrow. A lot more.”
Ryker took another step toward Sam, applying pressure. “You’re a loan shark?”
Suddenly a few pieces of the puzzle fell into place for Daria. “You did business with Cindy?”
“She gave me the money she inherited so I could lend it to someone else.
She earned back her capital twenty times over and we split the profits.”
“Did my sister and her husband or Elizabeth have anything to do with your little scheme?” Daria asked.
“No. I swear it.” Sam backed from Ryker toward Daria. “I just borrow and lend money. No one gets hurt.”
Ryker’s eyebrows rose in skepticism. “What happens when your clients can’t repay their debts?”
“That’s never happened.”
“Never?”
“I’ve never had to do more than make a threatening phone call. I swear. It’s easy money. Do I look like I could threaten anyone?”
Sam was about five foot five and a hundred and forty pounds. But he obviously had the funds to hire muscle. However, Daria couldn’t see where their investigation was leading them. Sam’s sideline seemed to have nothing to do with poison or murder or clearing her name.
Sam balanced the books for her and made extra money on the side. He knew little about flowers or poisons. He didn’t even have one plant in his apartment. And even if Elizabeth had borrowed money from him, Sam couldn’t collect from a dead person.
Sam wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Are you going to turn me in?”
Chapter Eleven
Daria had told Sam that she wouldn’t turn him in to the cops if he’d promise not to approach anyone in her business with his extracurricular schemes. Naturally, he’d agreed. But had her decision been a good one? She didn’t know, and as much as she wanted to ask Ryker his opinion, she didn’t. She didn’t want turning to him to become a habit.
As she and Ryker drove back to her apartment, she had so much to think about. She always thought better at home where she eliminated outside distractions and created a soothing comfort zone. Ever since Fallon’s and Harry’s deaths, she’d found her personal retreat more necessary than ever.
If she went to jail, she’d lose her business, but more importantly she’d lose her home, which scared her right down to her toes. Her apartment was the center of her world, her safety net where she could withdraw and regroup.
Defending the Heiress Page 14