by Desiree Holt
Jay pulled a single sheet of paper from his jeans pocket and unfolded it.
“That’s all you’ve got?” Zak couldn’t hide his skepticism.
“No, but I didn’t think you wanted an encyclopedia up here. What I have is a good summary of their so-called legit businesses—night clubs, high-end restaurants, linen services, finance companies, small private banks—”
“And from what I’ve heard,” Zak interrupted, “the people who borrow from them never get out from under.”
“That’s right,” Jay agreed. “They lend to people and businesses who can’t get financing any place else, and the interest rate is so high it never gets paid off.”
“Then, if I’m figuring this right, every so-called legitimate enterprise became a subsidiary of Dunning International,” Zak finished off. “Right?”
“Right,” Jay agreed.
Zak idly fiddled with a pen. “Did your research happen to show you how many of the original owners of companies that became part of DI are still running those companies?”
Jay got a funny look on his face. “How did you know about that?”
“About what?” Zak dropped the pen and narrowed his eyes at Jay. “Am I right about most of them being gone?”
Jay nodded. “Nate Dunning—or whoever was pulling his strings—has replaced almost all of the original owners with people he’s chosen.”
“I asked because I have a sick feeling that’s what they planned to do with Zoe. But what do they want with Lombardo Simulations in the first place? That’s the biggie here. They don’t buy companies just to increase them as legitimate operations. I’ll bet if we looked hard enough, every component of DI has something else going on that’s being covered up.”
“There are a lot of things you can do with simulations that don’t bear scrutiny,” Nina told him. “Things the government wouldn’t be too happy about. You said Zoe confronted Nate on financial statements that made no sense, right? Suppliers and customers she’d never even heard of. And Nate tried to blow it off.”
“That’s right. She said—”
A knock at the door was followed by Carol’s immediate entrance. “Sorry,” she breathed, closing the door behind her. “Zak, you need to turn on the television set to Channel Five. And the lobby guard just called. Detective Morales is on his way up.”
Zak picked up the television remote from his desk and punched the On button, then quickly flipped to Channel Five. The screen was filled with the image of a burning building, one that Zak was very familiar with. A sick feeling traveled over him.
“It seems we have yet another chapter in the current saga of San Antonio businesswoman Zoraya Lombardo,” the reporter at the site was saying. “Those of you who have been following the story for the last forty-eight hours will remember she’s the young woman accused of killing billionaire Nate Dunning, CEO of Dunning International.”
The man looked over his shoulder, then turned to face the camera again. “Slightly more than an hour ago, the fire department answered an alarm to this location, the home of Lombardo Simulations, the company the suspect owns. I’ve been told part of the building was used for the technology division, the other for warehousing merchandise for shipment. Lombardo was at the forefront of high-end computer games, with customers all over the world.”
The disconnected voice of the studio anchor came over the air. “Ross, does anyone know what caused the fire? The building seems to be built of pretty solid adobe.”
“The arson inspector can’t do a complete investigation until the fire chief gives the okay, but those on the scene are saying the building was wired with explosives. Probably on a timed charge.”
“Have the police commented on this?” the anchor asked.
“In a manner of speaking. This is the second fire associated with Zoraya Lombardo in twenty-four hours. The last one destroyed her home. Police think she’s doing her best to destroy evidence of whatever she and Dunning were doing before she finds a way to disappear completely.”
“Shit!” Zak smacked the flat of his hand on his desk.
“You know they did it to get rid of the computers and any hard copies of whatever they were doing,” Jay told him.
“Yeah, it figures. They got into the computer system and wiped out the files, but they needed to destroy the hard drives, just in case. And there were cartons of CDs in the warehouse area. They couldn’t just drive up and get them without arousing suspicion. Not with Zoe’s name all over the news.”
Zak picked up his phone and buzzed Reno’s office. “Did you see the news?”
“Unfortunately,” his partner said. “Things don’t look too good for our client, do they?”
“Listen, Reno, she’s not—”
“You don’t have to say it,” Reno interrupted. “If she was really guilty, I know you wouldn’t be ass-deep in this.”
“Who can we get to in the fire department,” he asked. “Quietly.”
“It would have to be very quietly,” Reno told him. “But I’ve got some contacts I can reach out to. Not a problem.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’d really like to know what they find out about the explosives used to torch the Lombardo building. Like if they were the same kind used at Zoe’s house.”
“I’ll see what I can dig up.”
“Thanks.” He paused a moment. “For everything.”
“I told you before, no problem. That’s what we do for each other.”
“One more thing,” Zak said. “Joe Morales is on his way up to see me. I tried to hold him off, but he’s like a bulldog.”
“Joe’s good people,” Reno pointed out. “He’s just doing his job. If you need help, have Carol come and get me.”
“Thanks again.”
His Intercom sounded, and he hit the button for it.
Carol’s voice floated into the room. “Detective Morales is here, and he says if I don’t open the door in five seconds, he’s going through it.” Her laugh was forced and polite. “Right, Detective?”
“Give him his five seconds and send him in.” He looked at the three people in front of him. “Keep digging on the Russians. Call me when you get something. I don’t care how small it is. I have to know who’s pulling the strings. Use the back door out of here. Move now. I don’t need Morales to see you and ask more questions than he already has.”
The door to the rear hallway had barely closed before Joe Morales bulled his way in and planted himself in front of Zak’s desk. “I’m through screwing around, Delaney.” Anger blazed in his eyes and every line in his face was deepened. “I want the truth from you. Right now.”
“Nice to see you, too, Detective.” Zak gestured at one of the chairs. “Won’t you have a seat?”
“No, thanks. I’m just fine.”
Zak gritted his teeth. “I said sit down. If you want answers from me, you won’t get them looming over my desk.”
Morales cursed under his breath but backed up and dropped into a chair. “All right. I’m sitting. I want to know where Zoraya Lombardo is, and I want to know right now.”
****
Zoe’s plan had been to crash as long as possible and wake up rested before getting back to work. As long as possible turned out to be less than four hours. Anxiety and the urgency of the situation had intruded on her, making her restless.
The room Zak had put her in was decorated in soft blues and cream, with a large window overlooking the barns and the corral. This morning there were horses loping in the sunshine, and a dog, a blue heeler, watching them from just outside the fence. Beyond that, she saw five ranch hands saddled and riding out of the barn, heading toward the north end of the property. This was what people imagined when they thought of Texas. Any other time, she would have enjoyed the pastoral nature of the scene.
She showered in the adjoining bathroom, put on fresh jeans and a T-shirt, then pulled her hair back into a neat pony tail. The fragrant aroma of cinnamon drew her to the kitchen.
A woman in jeans and a peasant bl
ouse lifted a tray of sweet rolls from the oven. She was definitely middle-aged, her dark hair streaked with gray and pulled up in a clip. Close to five-foot-eight, slender but muscular, she moved with a lithe, easy grace.
She turned her head at the sound of Zoe’s footsteps and a warm smile lit up her face.
“Good morning.” Her voice had a musical quality to it. “You must be Miss Lombardo. I am Serita.”
Somehow, Zoe had imagined Zak’s housekeeper would be a woman in her sixties, short and round, with a big smile and a steady stream of conversation. The age was about the only thing she’d gotten right.
“You’re awake,” the woman went on. “I thought you would be sleeping much later. Señor Delaney left me a note not to wake you and to feed you well when you arose.”
“Call me Zoe, please. And I don’t think sleep is much of an option right now. But those rolls would tempt the devil.”
“Sit.” Serita waved a hand at the table. “Señor Delaney said you have much work today, but you must stoke the furnace first.”
The cinnamon rolls literally melted in her mouth, and the coffee had a slight hint of spice to it that Zoe couldn’t identify but which tasted delicious. When she’d eaten and drunk her fill, she had to admit she felt measurably better. Her brain even seemed to be working again.
“Señor Delaney said you would be working in the den.” Serita cleared the empty dishes from the table. “I’ll being you a carafe and a mug and let you know when lunch is ready. You can take a break or eat at the desk. Señor Delaney does that a lot when he’s on a deadline for something.”
“Thank you. You’re very, very kind.”
“De nada. Señor Delaney is a prince to work for.”
A prince, Zoe thought as she headed for the den. Once he’d been her prince, and she’d thrown him away. Now, she’d not only angered him but she was sure she’d disappointed him, too. She’d come to him begging for his help, and at the first opportunity, she’d done the very thing she shouldn’t do. She could only pray there were no more repercussions from her stupidity.
Her assignment now, according to Zak, was to take apart the simulations. He had his people working on attempting to open and retrieve files and information, but she was the sim expert. He was convinced they were doing something with them, and he wanted her to find out what.
Booting up the laptop, she opened one simulation after another and immediately hit a wall. Her frustration level grew as she was able to take each one only so far, then was locked out. When she had a problem checking the first simulation file, she thought she might have entered the information incorrectly in her haste to check it. But after fifteen minutes, nothing was as she’d thought. She wasn’t just locked out of opening the other files. They had done something to the simulation files. Cracked her password and changed the coding.
What was going on here? She’d password protected them, changing that password frequently, as she did the password for the cloud. But damn! She hadn’t thought to recheck all the files before she stored them the last time. They had reworked her programs? What the hell?
Rage swept through her, so hot and vicious that if Nate Dunning was alive and standing before her she really would kill him. She took a deep breath, let it out, pushed away from the desk, and began pacing. Zak was right. As usual. She’d been nothing but a means to an end for these people, whoever they were.
Somehow, she’d have to fix this problem with the codes if she hoped to eventually get back in business again. She seemed to be piling problems on top of problems.
Finally, she closed down everything she was using and went back to a DOS screen—Disk Operating System—the place she always started with when she wrote her programs. If she couldn’t crack the rest of the sims open to find out what had been done with them, she’d start all over again, rewriting the code, and analyze each step as she went along.
By the time early afternoon rolled around, she had finished recreating one sim and was pulling up the codes on one of the ones Nina copied to the laptop Zak had brought to see where changes had been made. Again, she got only so far, but this time, something caught her eye, so she began to rewrite others from memory.
Taking a break from the intense dynamics of programming, she opened a word processing program and began to write down everything she could recall about how she’d met Caz Morgan and Max Detwiler. Any time they’d been together with her and Nate. And strangers who made her particularly uncomfortable. She actually remembered more than she thought she would. Then she went back to the programming.
Serita brought her lunch on a tray, which she ate without even paying attention to what it was. Then she went back to the simulations. By late afternoon, she had a glimmer of what had happened, but her eyes were blurring and her hands ached. She stood up from the desk and stretched.
She hadn’t heard from Zak all day. Would he ever speak to her again except as necessary? Despite the fact that just last night he’d said they could look at the future when this was over, would the thing between them that had begun to bloom again be over, too? She tried to swallow the sob that lodged in her throat. Just when she’d realized she’d never stopped loving him, it seemed she’d managed to screw up things between them in royal style once again.
Serita knocked and came in to retrieve the tray and bring her a glass of iced tea.
“Has Zak… Has Mr. Delaney called the ranch today?”
Serita nodded. “Just now. He said to let you know the pilot will be bringing him for dinner and asked me to prepare something. He usually likes my enchiladas with rice and beans and Mexican slaw. Would that do for you?”
“At this particular moment, I’m grateful he didn’t ask you to feed me hemlock.”
Serita looked shocked. “Oh, Señor Delaney would never do such a thing.”
Zoe smiled weakly. “Just a little gallows humor. Anything will be fine. Please fix whatever you know he likes.”
“I told him you’d been in here all day working. He suggested you take a break and go outside for a while. There’s a swing on the back porch if you want to sit. Or two of the hands are working new cutting horses in the corral. You might enjoy watching that.”
“Thank you.” Zoe picked up the glass and took a long swallow. The cool liquid felt good on her throat. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
****
“Where is she?” Morales repeated, his tone a blend of anger, frustration, and discomfort. It was obvious from the stiffness of his posture he didn’t want to be there. “No more fancy dancing, Zak. I want Zoraya Lombardo. You’ve got five minutes to produce her.”
“That would be rather impossible.” Voice calm and even. “Even if I knew where she was, five minutes wouldn’t be nearly enough time. I can assure you she isn’t in this building. Ask any of the guards or other employees.”
Morales made a rude noise. “Listen, give me some credit for brains here. I know you wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring her here.”
If that’s what he thinks, maybe that’s what I should have done.
“Then exactly where do you think I have her, Joe?”
The man shrugged. “Hard to say. But Guardian Security keeps enough places where you stash clients that we could be looking until next year and never find her.”
“Then perhaps you ought to get started.” Zak’s words were edged with sarcasm.
“Don’t make me do things the hard way. Please. The woman is in more trouble than you want to deal with.” He sighed and spread his hands out in an almost pleading gesture. “You’ve got a fat company and a top reputation. Don’t throw them all away for some harebrained female.”
“Harebrained.”
“She’d have to be to shoot a man like Nate Dunning and think she could get away with it. Not to mention burning down her house and company”
Zak mentally gritted his teeth. He was tired and holding onto his patience with a thin thread.
“Just out of curiosity, what proof do you have that she actually killed Dunning?”
/>
“Enough.” Morales shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Anyway, I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“You do if you want me to produce her.”
“Ha.” Morales lunged out of the chair he’d dropped into. “I knew it. You do know where she is.”
Zak held up his hands. “I didn’t say that. I just said no one—not me or anyone else—is going to hand her over unless you have concrete proof that she’s guilty. Everyone’s trying to close the lid on this as soon as possible, and she’s an easy mark.”
“Listen, Delaney.” Joe’s face was turning red. “You may be a big hotshot, but you’re out of your league here. Lombardo’s guilty, and I’m going to get her, with or without your help.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Zak said, meeting Morales’s glare head on, “if she’s so guilty, who blew up her building this morning? And her house the other day?”
“One thing has nothing to do with the other.”
“Oh, I think it definitely does,” Zak argued. “A smart cop would think maybe someone was trying to get rid of her, too.”
“A smart cop? Are you trying to tell me I’m stupid?”
Running on very little sleep, Zak had to struggle to hold onto his patience, but antagonizing Morales wouldn’t help the situation. “Not at all. I’m just saying, wouldn’t you wonder if she’s a target, too?”
“For your information, the brass are convinced she did it to cover her tracks and disappear.” He sat down again. “Zak, this is a real hot mess. You can’t imagine the pressure we’re getting to close this case. Be a good guy and help us out here.”
“By turning over an innocent woman so you can crucify her?”
“And by the way, speaking of explosions,” Joe demanded, “what were your men doing sniffing around the house that burned down on Estrella Street early this morning?”
“Probably looking into something for a client. We do have real clients, you know.”
Morales looked apoplectic, his face redder than a ripe tomato.
“You have a good relationship with the SAPD,” he reminded Zak. “Don’t screw it up over this. There’s too much high-level testosterone floating around here. Wherever Zoraya Lombardo is, get her and bring her down to headquarters. That’s the best advice I can give you.”