Hidden Heat: Hauberk Protection, Book 4

by Leah Braemel

Andy wedged himself between them. “We all tell lies, Scott. This one didn’t hurt anyone.”

  How did such a reasonable guy deal with being partnered with such an assho—oh crap, that’s what this was. They were playing good cop/bad cop on her.

  “Look, Mitch was always on his computer while he was here, I admit, but he never once said anything about it. All he told me was he had stock indexes in Tokyo he had to keep an eye on.”

  “Can you describe him for me? How tall was he? How much does he weigh, what color is his hair, that type of thing.”

  “I don’t know. Five foot eleven, maybe. A hundred and ninety, two hundred maybe. But he’s strong.” Too strong. “He’s got short brown hair. He said he was thirty-three.”

  “Do you know where he lives?”

  “He said he has a condo in Silver Springs but I’ve never been there.” Why was that? And why hadn’t she wondered about it before? “He works as a fund manager with some financial group there too. ITF Group? ITR maybe. Something like that. That was a lie too, wasn’t it?”

  As Andy nodded, Scott pulled out his phone and walked into the hall, speaking into it in muted tones so she couldn’t hear.

  Andy touched her knee, bringing her attention back to him. “You said you broke up with him Friday night?”

  Even though she knew it was probably an act, Andy seemed gentler. Safer. Which was strange because he was so much bigger than her. Bigger than Mitch. Who had hurt… God, no, don’t remember that night. Jazz closed her eyes. “He was sitting in his car waiting for me when I got home from work.” Shit. She looked up at him, eyes wide. Had he been hacking into Hauberk even then? “He had his laptop out. But I didn’t see what he was working on. He always closed the top whenever I was around.” Which should have tipped her off Friday night.

  “Don’t worry about it for now,” Andy said softly. “You came home, he was waiting for you and then what happened?”

  “He said we had a date but I don’t remember making one with him. I’d told him last weekend I’d wanted to slow things down. He was starting to crowd me, you know? He was always over here. I needed space.” And he needed her connection to Hauberk. Not her.

  “Okay. Keep going.”

  God, she’d been so blind. Should she tell them what he’d done to her? No, they wouldn’t believe her. Scott already thought she was a hooker. “I let him in for a while, but then I realized I was right about breaking things off, so I kicked him out and said I never wanted to see him again.”

  Scott had returned. “But you saw him again, didn’t you?”

  “He was in the parking lot on Saturday.” Maybe he’d never left. But seeing his car parked right there beneath her balcony had made up her mind when Sandy had returned to pick up some clothes. “Wait a minute, he made a phone call Friday night after…” He hurt me. “Before I kicked him out. I only heard his side of the conversation so I don’t know who he was talking to, but he mentioned something about getting an address and then the money. He seemed worried, like there was a deadline and the other guy wasn’t being reasonable.”

  After sharing a look with Scott, Andy placed Xander on her lap. “Okay, that’s good. That tells us a lot.”

  It did?

  “Now we need you to tell us about any conversations you’ve had with him. His background, if he mentioned any family or legal problems, anything that may tell us what he’s trying to find in Hauberk’s system.”

  “We got a match on the fingerprints we took from Sandy’s apartment.”

  Sandy stood when Andy and Scott walked into Chad’s office but Chad waved for her to keep her seat.

  Andy pulled out his notebook. Considering all the electronic equipment Hauberk issued their agents, Sandy found it amusing he kept his notes on an old-fashioned spiral-bound pad similar to hers. “Mitchell Young is actually Michael Rowlands, the soon-to-be ex of Janice Rowlands.”

  “So he’s looking for our safe-house locations.” At Sandy’s questioning look, Chad explained, “Janice Rowlands is one of our clients. She left her husband when he was named a person of interest in an investment swindle. Turned out, he’d put all his assets in his wife’s name, including an off-shore account where he stashed his money. He was threatening her to try to force her to sign it back over to him so he can pay off some of the more important clients.”

  “So the whole thing has been about money?” Sandy knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but damn it, having her privacy violated should be for something important. National security or something. Instead some investment banker with no sense of morals and his greedy wife were battling over the money he’d stolen. The bastard had been in her home. Eaten her food. Listened to her and Troy making love.

  “It’s more complicated than just money, Sandy. From what a little dicky-bird in the D.A.’s office told me, one of Rowlands’s victims had a strong familial connection if you catch my drift. The D.A. couldn’t assure us her location wouldn’t leak from their office, so we’ve given her an alias and kept her in a safe house until it’s time for the trial. That’s why you don’t recognize the name.”

  “Oh Christ, he ripped off the Mafia?” Scott formed his thumb and finger into an L over his forehead. “No wonder he’s so anxious to find his wife.”

  Chad fiddled with his gold pen. “So now we know what he wants, how do we reel him in?”

  “Why couldn’t you leave a file open with a fake address for his wife that he can find next time he hacks into the system?”

  “Oh, we’ll do that. Trouble is considering how he’s not been able to find the information before, he may realize it’s a trap and not fall for it. So we need to have a contingency plan.”

  The discussion ended up involving the IT manager as well as Sam Watson, so Sandy returned to her desk when the meeting moved to Sam’s office.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Brigade’s team crowded the old wooden table, some standing, all of them shooting him dark looks. Troy hung back. He wasn’t part of the team, his input wasn’t needed. And hell if he wanted to be. The humidity slapped him like a wet towel as he stepped from the entrance of the ancient Quonset hut the Brigade had appropriated as their headquarters. He’d grown soft living in London and Washington.

  He pulled out his satellite phone and dialed the area code to his home then stopped, unable to recall the number. It took thumbing through his call history to find where Scott had phoned him from home to find the number. Partway through the second ring, the beautiful Minnesotan voice he’d needed to hear answered with a breathless hello. Sandy was at his place? Maybe sleeping in his bed? God, he was so down with that. “Hey, sunshine. How you doing?”

  “Troy? Are you okay?” There was an anxiousness to her voice that hadn’t been there when he’d left.

  “I’m fine. Why? Did you miss me?” Please say yes.

  “I was worried when I saw the news reports this morning. They said there are hundreds of people dead, that they’re calling for air strikes to quell the rebels. When you didn’t phone, I thought…I was afraid you’d been hurt.” Or worse.

  News reports? Hundreds dead? Shit! There must have been an uprising against the latest regime. Served him right for being out of the loop and not checking his cover before phoning home. “I swear I’m fine. Not a scratch on me. Just haven’t had cell service, that’s all. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Here’s hoping she didn’t realize he was on his satellite phone.

  “Good. I was really worried about you. Are you going to be home soon?”

  Home. Huh. Strange how he’d never thought of Washington or even his flat in London as home. But knowing she was there, waiting for him, thinking of him made him hope that perhaps, for the first time in decades, maybe he did have a home. “I’m flying out in a couple hours. I’ll be home tonight.”

  There it was again. Home. Fuck that felt nice to say.

  “What time does your flight come in? I want to meet you at the airport.”

  She did? He’d never had anyone meet him before. “You don
’t have to do that.”

  “I want to. Are you flying into Dulles or Reagan?”

  “I’ll phone you with the details when I know them.”

  “Good.” There was a long pause. “Where are you right now? Somewhere safe?”

  As safe as could be given the circumstances. He wandered over to a bench beneath the spreading branches of a monkeypod tree. “I’m outside of the city at a private airstrip.” Stay as close to the truth as you can when lying. “I’m sitting under a tree, watching the sunset. It’s beautiful.”

  He closed his eyes and pictured her. Wished she were with him. Not in Val Varde but on a secluded beach. Hawaii or the Virgin Islands perhaps. “Where are you? In my bedroom?”

  Her soft laughter floated through the connection and lightened his mood. “You betcha. You want to guess what I’m wearing?”

  Phone sex. Over thousands of miles and who knew how many satellite connections. God, he loved her. Loved how she made nothing else matter. How she could make him smile when five minutes before he didn’t think he had it in him to ever smile again. “Let me guess—you’re completely naked. Wearing only your belly button ring.”

  “Lucky guess.”

  What he’d give to be there right now. “I’m a lucky guy.”

  “What would you do if you were here?”

  He’d hold her. Bury his nose in her hair and know there was something good in the world, something clean and innocent. “I’d kiss the tip of your nose.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Is that all?”

  “Oh, no. That’s just the start. After I kissed the tip of your nose, I’d offer you some wine and then after you’d had a sip, I’d kiss you.”

  “Red or white wine?”

  Interesting that she’d ignored that he’d kiss her. “A chardonnay.”

  “Full bodied?” she suggested.

  “They’re the best.”

  Light spilled across the compound when someone opened the hut’s door. Davis. Who headed straight for him. “I’m sorry, sunshine. I have to go. I’ll see you soon.”

  Jazz peeked through the security hole before unlocking the door.

  One hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a backpack, Andy Walters grinned. “Good job on checking me out first. Troy teach you that?”

  “No.” Not wanting to let Mitch back into her apartment taught her that. Instead of inviting him in, she kept her arm on the door and her body blocking the entrance. “Sandy’s not here. She stayed at Troy’s last night.”

  “I know. I’m not here to see Sandy. I thought you’d like to know what we’ve found out about Mitch, and to ask a favor of you.”

  He wasn’t going to go away unless she let him in, was he? With a sigh, she closed the door so she could remove the chain then opened it again and stepped aside to let him in. “I don’t see how I can help.”

  “Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you what we’ve got planned. How’s that sound?”

  Oh great. He was still playing the “good cop” role. “Sure, why not?”

  After setting his bag on the floor, Andy moved aside the pile of magazines and perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of her the way he had earlier. Xander, the traitor, jumped down off his perch on the couch to rub against Andy’s leg.

  “I thought you would like to know what we found out since we were here earlier.” Without looking down, Andy scratched the cat’s ears, setting off Xander’s loud purr. “First off, Mitch’s real name is Michael Rowlands and he’s in trouble with a lot of people.”

  Oh crap. “I didn’t know that—”

  “I know. He fooled a lot of people. So don’t you worry about that.”

  Had he hurt anyone else the way he’d hurt her, she wondered. “So what’s he done?”

  “He and a business partner ran a Ponzi scheme that ripped off a lot of people for millions of dollars. He’s facing charges as well as threats from various sources.”

  By the time he finished his recitation of what Mitch had done, and why he had used her—and Sandy’s passwords—Jazz was confused. “So why are you here? It doesn’t sound like there’s anything I can do.”

  “We were hoping you’d help us set up a sting so we can catch him. All you’d have to do is invite him over here. Make it sound like Sandy’s left for the evening and you’re home alone. Maybe say you need more help with editing those videos.”

  “I don’t think he’d buy me asking him over. Not after I told him I never wanted to see him again. Besides, I don’t want to see him again. Ever. So if you’re planning on using me as bait, I don’t think I can help you.” She’d probably throw up if she had to see Mitch again.

  Despite the genial expression on his face, his body went on alert and his eyes searched hers. Yet his voice was gentle when he spoke, “He might wonder at your change of heart, but I’m betting that he’ll buy into it hook, line and sinker. I think he’d jump at a chance to get inside Hauberk’s system again.” He dropped his eyes and focused on the sleeves falling over her knuckles. Even though they covered the marks left by the handcuffs, she fought the urge to pull the fabric down farther. “These types of guys, they’re on a power trip and they think they pull all the strings. I’ve seen it before.”

  So had she. “I am not crawling back to him to save your company.”

  He placed his hands over her knees without touching, enough to stop her from jumping up but not spook her. “Hang on. I didn’t say you would be crawling back. All you have to do is phone him and invite him over. You won’t have to see him. In fact, we don’t want you staying here until he’s caught.”

  Jazz choked back a laugh. “Where do you expect me to go? A hotel? I am not one of your rich clients. I got fired yesterday so I can’t afford to spend money on hotel rooms.

  Despite the other girls’ attempts to cover the bruises and welts with their heaviest makeup, they hadn’t been able to disguise the damage. Walt had blown a gasket and fired her on the spot when she’d asked for a week off. “I have some money saved up but it won’t last long.”

  Not if she was going to be able to pay for her tuition at GW. For four long years. Those dreams of being able to graduate with no student loans, of doing something other than dancing after she’d graduated, had probably flown out the window.

  “It’s not going to cost you a cent. You’re going to be staying at one of Hauberk’s safe houses free of charge. Bodyguard included.”

  “Let me guess, you?” Despite her sneer, she half hoped it would be him. With the tattoo peeking out from beneath his sleeve, and the way he treated her, she felt safe. Of course, he was cute too, in a rough-edged sort of way. But then she’d always liked guys who didn’t feel like they’d be at home sitting beside her in the salon having their nails buffed.

  “Nope, not me.” His cute smile that softened his edges and put her at ease appeared. “Your CPO—your close protective officer—will be a woman named Holly. I’ll be here, staking out your apartment.”

  “Oh.” She rubbed her arms. “All right. So when do you want me to phone him? Now?”

  “Yup. And see if you can slide in that you’re using Sandy’s computer while yours is being fixed. It’ll let him think he can get back into her VPN.”

  “Okay.” She tapped Mitch’s number into her cellphone. She’d deleted it from her contacts list after…well, after. So what sick part of her brain decided it was worth remembering? Her thumb hovered over the connect button as her stomach did flip-flops. Fuck you, Mitchell, Michael, whatever the hell your name is. I hope they haul your ass to jail and some guy named Bubba wants to make you his bitch. “What time should I say for him to come over?”

  “Does he know you’ve been fired?”

  “No. I never told him what I really did.”

  “Okay, then tell him to meet you here tomorrow night at eight. That way our cover story fits and we can get all our people in place and the cops and the D.A. on board.”

  “Right.” She pressed the little green connect key.
On the second ring, the asshole answered. Her stomach acids burned the back of her throat at the smarmy sound of his voice.

  “Hey, Mitch. I’ve missed you, baby.” Oh, gag.

  Sweat broke out when Andy leaned over her shoulder as they waited for Mitch’s—Michael’s response. She covered the microphone on her phone and clasped her free hand in her lap to hide how much she was trembling. “Look, can you back off please? I know you want to hear what he’s saying but…”

  To her relief, he immediately straightened. But instead of moving away he pulled up a chair from the kitchen table and faced it in the opposite direction but still right beside her. Strangely it worked and some of her fear subsided. She put the phone back to her ear and realized Mitch was speaking, “—didn’t figure I’d be hearing from you again.”

  His voice was cautious. That’s right, buddy. You need to be cautious of me.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry.” Oh God, did she really have to say this? If it got him a taste of his own medicine, she could. “I guess I over-reacted the other night.” Under-reacted was more like it. “I was wondering if we could get together so I could make it up to you. Maybe tomorrow night? Around eight?”

  There was a long pause before he replied, “All right. Is your roommate going to be around?”

  “Nope. We’ll have the place all to ourselves.”

  She stiffened when Andy touched her knee. He leaned in and whispered, “Breathe.”

  She forced air into her lungs and out slowly, before trusting her voice. “Maybe you could edit some more videos? Then afterward, I could thank you properly? I got some new toys we could try.”

  Say you’ll come over, you bastard. So they can arrest your sorry ass.

  “All right. But I can’t make it until nine.”

  “Okay, that’s still good. See you then. I c-can’t wait.” For them to arrest your sorry ass. Without waiting to hear Mitch’s—Michael’s—response, she ended the call, clapped a hand to her mouth and dashed to the bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and vomited.