Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Prologue
H e kissed her goodbye with the first rays of the sun. She sighed softly and shifted, nestled deeper into the thick down comforter. Long, dark hair fanned out on the wrinkled white pillowcase where her head rested, and with a hand tucked under her chin, a soft smile curved her lips. The rhythm of her breathing was deep and even.
She was his best friend.
Or at least she had been.
Eric Jones turned abruptly and crossed to the small window overlooking Lake Michigan. A chill radiated from the glass, but the numbness seeping through him muted the bite. In the space of one single heartbeat, his life had changed in ways that could never be repaired.
His father was dead, killed in a freak accident.
And in his blind grief, in that hazy place of suspended reality, Eric had turned to his friend for comfort. Sweet, loyal Leigh. Hed accepted her embrace, demanded more. When shed murmured words of comfort, hed sought her mouth with his, driven by an unquenchable need to drink in all she had to give. And when driving need replaced bottomless sorrow, rather than having the good sense to put a stop to the craziness, hed picked her up and carried her to his bed, eased her out of her jeans and sweatshirt, savored the feel of her warm nakedness, betrayed a sacred trust.
They could never go back to before.
His throat tightened, and the grief came crashing back, hard, violent, much like the freak car accident that had killed his father. Black ice. Christ. He still couldnt comprehend why his dad had been on the roads. Neither he nor Leigh had understood what his mother had been trying to tell them. Hed barely recognized her voice. Susan Jones had always been strong and stable, unshakable. But last night her voice had been broken, incoherent, her words nonsensical. Something about black ice and an eighteen-wheeler. His father. Police and ambulances. A hospital a few hours from Cloverdale. Dead on arrival.
Leigh had picked up the phone when it fell from Erics fingers and gently spoken to his mother, then a police officer. And it was Leigh whod explained it all to Eric, Leigh whod called the airport, Leigh whod gathered his friends.
Leigh whod brought him comfort for a few mindless hours.
He needed to get home to Indiana. He needed to be there for his mother. She had no one else. Last night the blizzard that hit the midwest had shut down the roads and the airports, but this morning the winter wonderland beyond gave no hint of the devastation from the night before.
There should be some evidence, he thought raggedly, some remnant or trace. Pristine beauty shouldnt be possible when everything inside him sliced like shards of broken glass. But the community beyond his University of Chicago apartment sprawled like a quaint still-life. A fresh carpet of snow covered sidewalks and streets and rooflines, with trees standing so still, piles of white concealing their naked branches. Only a few stray flakes drifted through the hazy sunlight of early morning. Against the blue sky, a V of geese flew high and fast, as though they realized how late they were for their trek south.
The sense of loss cut sharp and deep, clear to the bone.
Eric?
He stiffened at the sound of her sleep-roughened voice, the feel of her soft hand settling against the leather of the jacket hed already pulled on. His heart started to pound. He knew he needed to turn to her, to somehow make things right, but for the life of him, he had no idea how.
Never before had he made love to one of his best friends.
With cold certainty, he now realized Leigh shouldnt have been the one to stay with him. Matt and Ethan and Jake had all volunteered. Theyd arrived within minutes of Leigh calling them, had stayed until well after midnight. He should have listened to them, let them stay, sent Leigh back to her dorm.
But damn, it was Leigh hed wanted there with him.
Go back to bed, he said, easing around to face her.
Nothing prepared him. Nothing prepared him to see her standing only a few inches away, the sheet wrapped around her tall, willowy frame, the early-morning light playing softly against her face. Concern glowed in her gentle brown eyes.
The sight hit like a punch to the gut.
Theres no need for you to be up, he said with a soft smile. Over the year theyd known each other, Leigh Montgomery had made it perfectly clear she was not a morning person.
She lifted a hand to his face. Are you okay?
Was he okay? Christ. Hed taken advantage of her trust and betrayed her friendship, crushed something rare and special, and she wanted to know if he was okay. I need to get going.
The light in her eyes dimmed. Ill go with you.
No.
Eric
Dont, Leigh, okay? He bit the words out more roughly than hed intended, and when he saw the hurt wash across her face, he tried to gentle his tone. Im sorry. Im so damn sorry. I justneed to get home.
Moisture glistened in her eyes. Of course you do.
He tore away from her, grabbed his wallet and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. You canstay as long as you like. Just lock up on your way out. He grabbed his keys and strode toward the door, but couldnt make himself walk out on her, not after last night.
Leigh, he said, turning toward her. She still stood exactly where hed left her by the window, one hand clutched around the ends of the sheet, watching him through big bruised eyes. Long dark hair tangled around her bare shoulders.
Im sorry, he said, and meant the words more deeply than she could ever know.
Finally she moved. She lifted her chin and crossed to him, walked with that leggy grace she had down to an art form. Only when she stood so close he could feel the heat from her body did she speak. Im not.
The words were soft, damning. Leigh
There were two of us here last night, she reminded, again lifting a hand to his face. I wanted to be there for you.
That was what he was afraid of. Compassion and loyalty had driven her to give him a gift he couldnt accept, one that shattered the careful boundaries theyd established.
I dont deserve you, he said, and his throat burned. Youre a damn good friend.
The flicker of pain was so brief, it vanished before fully registering. She held his gaze a long moment before letting her hand fall to her side. Call me.
I will. But for now he had to go home, be there for his mother. Mac and Susan Jones may not have given him biological life, but theyd been the best parents Eric could imagine. Theyd loved and supported him, given him room to make his own decisions and mistakes.
Now it was his turn to stand tall, be strong.
Eric put his hand to the doorknob and turned, stepped into the cool hallway of his apartment building. But he couldnt leave without seeing her one last time. Leigh. His friend.
Ill be back, he promised, turning toward her.
She
gave him a soft smile, but it didnt hide the tears shimmering in her calm brown eyes. Ill be here.
Eric drank in the sight of her standing there, bathed in the early-morning sun, one of his sheets draped around her body, looking so beautiful the sight actually hurt. Forcing a smile, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then turned and walked away. He had a plane to catch and a father to bury.
Until then, he couldnt think about the heart he had to break.
One
H ow long has it been? Eight years?
Eric Jones popped the top on an ice-cold beer and handed the can to his surprise visitor. Ten.
Jake Ingram let out a low whistle. Time flies.
In some ways, Eric acknowledged, closing the refrigerator. A lifetime had passed since hed last lived in Chicago, but when hed rounded the corner a few minutes before with the August sun beating down on him and a bag of groceries in hand, the sight of the tall, dark-haired man pacing outside his Lincoln Park brownstone had reduced a decade to a moment. Hed half expected to see Matt and Ethan lounging on the steps, Leigh with a backpack slung over her shoulder and a smile lighting her expressive brown eyes.
Leigh.
The five of them hadnt been together for ten years, not since the night his father had died. Hed had no idea those dark hours would become a stark delineation in his lifebefore and after. At twenty-five, hed felt grown-up, mature, responsible. Hed been certain he knew where his future was going and how to take it there.
With vicious speed, hed discovered otherwise. Hed been practically a kid that brutally cold night his mother had called from the hospital, but within weeks hed learned what it meant to be a man.
Have a seat, Eric said, leading Jake from the spartan kitchen of his fourth-floor apartment to the equally spartan living room, where ESPN blazed across the big-screen TV. He hadnt seen his old friend since Thanksgiving the year before.
Jake settled into a leather recliner. He looked damn good, had hardly changed since college. His hair was just as dark, with only a hint of gray settling in. There were a few more lines on his face, but that, Eric knew, was to be expected.
Lincoln Park, he said with the devilish grin Eric remembered well. You son of a bitch.
Eric laughed. Youre just jealous.
Damn straight I am. Jake set his beer on an old sea chest that doubled as a coffee table. The Cubs, the Bears, the Blackhawks, real pizza and authentic blues. You cant get any of that in Texas.
Eric shrugged out of his sport coat and sprawled out on his new sofa, also in distressed leather. Hey, youve got the Cowboys, he pointed out dryly.
Jake practically growled. Watch it.
Eric grinned. No ones making you stay in your big house on the prairie, he reminded, but knew that wasnt true. His friend had deep ties to the Lone Star State: doting parents and a brother with whom he was tight, a fiance who adored him.
The twinge of envy caught Eric by surprise. Hed always wanted a brother or a sister, but his parents had adopted only one child. He figured that was why hed formed such strong friendships with Jake and Matt and Ethan.
And Leigh.
Over the years, hed kept in touch with the guys, getting together occasionally. But hed never seen Leigh after the night compassion had spiraled so hideously out of control. Hed only talked to her once, and that was to say goodbye.
Shed moved to England, never come home.
Glancing at his watch, Eric saw the hour approaching six. How long are you in town? he asked Jake.
A few days.
Great. He stood and headed for the phone. If youre in the mood for torture, the Cubs are home. The firm has tickets behind the visitors dugout. Let me see what I can
Indy.
Normally, use of his college nickname, a play on his home state of Indiana and his last name, made Eric grin, but the gravity in Jakes voice stopped him cold. Already got plans? he asked, turning toward him.
His friend stabbed a hand through his thick dark hair. A ball game sounds great, he said, and almost sounded angry. You wouldnt believe how great. But actually Im here on business.
Eric put down the phone. Real business or World Bank business?
Jake stood. Crappy business.
Eric watched his friend closely, instinct suddenly warning that this was not a casual visit. The dead-serious look on his buddys face sent a cold chill snaking through him.
Jake?
His jaw clenched and his eyes went dark, much as they had ten years before when some schmuck Leigh had turned down got revenge by spreading rumors that she was sleeping with Jake and Eric, as well as their buddies Matt Tynan and Ethan Williams. The Blues Brothers, theyd been called. Theyd rallied to her defense, taught the punk a lesson Eric was sure he remembered to this day.
Christ, Leigh.
Why dont you sit down? Jake suggested.
I dont like the sound of this, Eric said. The cold sinking through him turned insidious. Is it Eth or Tynan? They in trouble?
Theyre fine, Jake almost growled, then moved toward the sofa, sat. Come on, Indy. Sit.
Adrenaline crashed through Eric, but he did as Jake asked, if for no other reason than to get his friend to talk. Whats going on?
Jake picked up the remote and zapped the television. Youve been following the World Bank heist investigation?
Erics tension eased a fraction. Whatever bomb his friend had to drop, it pertained to business. For over four months hed been following Jakes progress as he and the federal government worked to solve the ultimate April Fools jokethe theft of $350 billion from the influential World Bank. Achilles, they called the culprit who single-handedly had sent the stock market into decline and small banks into failure. Eric, an investment banker, had been dealing ever since with panicky clients, worried about the security of their college funds and retirement plans.
Kind of hard not to, when your name and picture has been splashed across the newspaper on an almost daily basis. Even The Wall Street Journal was tracking Jakes progress. Are you closer to finding Achilles?
The planes of Jakes face tightened. The son of a bitch has the FBI running in circles like a dog chasing its tail. Hes planted endless dead-end trails and false leads.
That, Eric had heard. It blew his mind that hundreds of billions of dollars could simply vanish into thin air. Do they think he was working alone?
No. Theyre pretty sure hes on someones bankroll, probably a struggling eastern European country like Rebelia.
Images formed in Erics mind of a once-beautiful country now torn apart by the ravages of civil war. DeBruzkya? The guy believed responsible for the theft of all those jewels?
Jake nodded. The feds think hes planning something bigger, amassing a hefty bankroll for a grab for more power.
But theres no evidence? Eric guessed, reaching for his beer.
Nothing concrete. Nothing they can nail him with.
For the first time, Eric realized the magnitude of responsibility sitting on Jakes sho
ulders. He wasnt just investigating the largest theft in history, he was tracking a potential madman who posed a risk to the entire free world. No wonder hed put his wedding on hold.
Christ, man, youre in deep, arent you?
Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, then met Erics gaze. The feds and I arent seeing eye-to-eye anymore, he said levelly. Daniel Venturi, the agent assigned to the case after the first agent, Lennox, went down, is an old-school hard-liner who sees this as his opportunity to make a lasting name for himself.
Eric rolled the beer can in his hands. Not exactly an unassuming Fox Mulder type, Im guessing.
A hard sound broke from Jakes throat Hardly. He leaned forward and balanced his elbows on his knees. Communication has broken down since he came onto the scene. At first I thought it was because Venturi doesnt appreciate an outsider being involved.
And now?
Jake glanced toward the sliding glass door, then back at Eric. Now I know its because before Lennox died, a suspect surfaced. When Venturi took over, he was under instructions to hold quiet until the case was almost completely buttoned-up.
The resentment in Jakes voice was impossible to miss. Does that mean this mess is almost over?
Jake frowned. Im afraid its just starting.
It wasnt like Jake to talk in circles. How so?
Dammit, Jake said. Theres absolutely no easy way to tell you this. Their suspect, Eric. Their suspect is you.
Eric went very still. Come again?
His friend stood, started to pace. The feds, Indy. The feds have fingered you as the mastermind behind Achilles.
The words hit him with the force of a sucker punch. He stared at this man hed known over a decade and looked for a twinkle in his eyes or a twitch of his lips, any indication that Jake had developed a twisted sense of humor, but found only tight lines of frustration.
Family Secrets: Books 5-8 Page 24