Tennessee Takedown

by LENA DIAZ,

  Her whiskey-colored eyes searched his. “You’re not?”

  “Not even a little bit. I’m just...surprised.” He glanced at the mounds of muffins and cupcakes and cookies piled on plates in the middle of the table. “Are we hosting a party for five-year-olds and I forgot?”

  She lightly shoved him. “Don’t be silly. Adults love cookies and cupcakes, too. And it’s not all junk food.” She hurried over to a plate of dark bread and held it up. “I made some bran bread. It’s healthy and tastes good, if you want to try it.”

  He joined her at the table but passed up the bran bread in favor of one of the chocolate chip cookies. He took a bite and closed his eyes as the warm, gooey chocolate-and-cookie mixture did a dance across his taste buds.

  “Do you like it?” She sounded worried.

  He opened his eyes. “Best cookie ever. I mean it. The guys at the office are going to go crazy over this.”

  She grinned and clapped her hands together. “Thank goodness. For a moment there, I thought I’d lost my touch.”

  The sheer delight on her face because her hard work would make others happy tilted his world for a moment, long enough for him to consider doing something he knew he’d regret. But he couldn’t help himself.

  He leaned down and kissed her. Her soft lips tasted like chocolate and honey, a heady combination that had him lingering when he knew he should stop—especially since she’d frozen like a surprised rabbit as soon as his lips touched hers.

  Frustration curled inside him, but he broke the kiss and pulled back.

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

  His shock at her boldness turned to laughter as she tugged at his hair to make him lean down. He put his arms around her waist and lifted her up until she was at eye level.

  “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered before his mouth met hers. He turned with her in his arms, intending to brace her against the tabletop, but she surprised him again by lifting her legs and wrapping them around his hips.

  White-hot heat whipped through him and he groaned low in his throat. Her soft lips opened beneath his in an invitation he couldn’t have resisted if the entire town was under siege and he was their only hope to save them.

  Neither of them seemed inclined to stop. The kiss grew wild and his pants grew uncomfortably tight. When he realized he was seriously considering shoving all her cookies and cakes off the table so he could make love to her right then and there, he finally pulled the strength together to break the kiss.

  Ashley clung to him, her eyelids half-closed, panting through her swollen lips, every breath pushing her soft, full breasts against his chest, making him want her even more.

  “We have to stop,” he whispered, even as he leaned down to kiss the tip of her perky little nose. He moved to her cheek next and licked the small spot of chocolate smeared on her soft skin.

  She whimpered in the back of her throat and closed her eyes, leaning back against his arm and turning her head for his wandering mouth. Her sheer joy in life and her trust in him to hold her and keep her safe stunned him. What would she do if he took her to the bedroom right now? Would she welcome him? Or would she come to her senses and stop him?

  He took a step toward the kitchen archway. Then another.

  No, stop it. What was he doing? He might not know Ashley Parrish very well, but he didn’t believe she was a one-night-stand kind of woman. And that meant Ashley Parrish was off-limits.

  It almost killed him to pull back and set her away from him.

  She looked up at him questioningly, her eyes so full of trust, that it hurt to meet her gaze. Once again, he owed her an explanation. But once again, that was more than he could bear.

  “I’ll grab a couple of boxes to help us carry all those cakes and cookies into the office.” With that incredibly thin excuse, he hurried out of the kitchen and tried to convince himself he hadn’t seen the hurt in her eyes when he turned away.

  * * *

  DILLON WASN’T SURE exactly how he’d expected Ashley to act once he’d showered and changed for work. But surely after that earth-tilting kiss they’d shared she should have looked at him differently, or even been angry because he’d ended the kiss so abruptly without a decent explanation. He sure hadn’t expected her to act as if nothing had even happened. But that’s what she’d done, happily chattering all the way to the office.

  Apparently baking made her a chatty Cathy. Maybe she should have been a baker instead of an accountant, because talking about recipes made her animated like nothing else. She looked so adorable waving her hands around, her eyes sparkling as she discussed the right temperature to bake the perfect banana-nut bread. And damn if he didn’t want to kiss her all over again.

  Well, he’d managed not to make a fool of himself by kissing her again, but three hours after arriving at the office, he wasn’t so sure bringing her here had been any better of an idea. From the moment he’d set the boxes of baked goods in the kitchenette, everyone had shoved him out of the way to get at the cookies, cakes and breads. And once they’d tasted the heaven of Ashley’s homemade concoctions, she’d become an instant celebrity.

  They’d passed her from desk to desk, asking her secrets and talking recipes until he’d had to order some of the worst offenders to leave her alone and get back to work. The chief had come out of his office to see what the noise was about, and after a brief conversation with Ashley, he’d led her into his office. That was more than forty-five minutes ago and they were still in there. What was the chief talking to her about? How to bake the perfect brownie?

  Chris rolled his chair over to Dillon’s desk. “You look angry enough to kill someone. What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” He forced his gaze away from the chief’s closed door and tried to focus on the interview report in front of him, one of the many interviews from survivors of the Gibson and Gibson shooting. He’d already read the interviews several times, but he was rereading them to see if he could pick up on anything he’d missed.

  “Nothing, huh?” Chris teased. “I don’t suppose nothing has something to do with one very perky little brunette living at your house right now?”

  “Did you complete that background report on Todd Dunlop I asked you to do?”

  Chris chuckled and rolled his chair back to his desk. A moment later he wheeled back over and plopped a thick manila file folder on top of the interview Dillon had been reading. “I was going to review it again before I gave it to you, but hey, since you’re so anxious for it, here you go.”

  Dillon flipped the folder open. “Give me the highlights.”

  Chris propped his feet on the edge of the desk and leaned back with his hands folded behind his head. “Todd Dunlop, fifty-five years of age. Married, father of three adult children—two sons and a daughter. Entrepreneur, started Dunlop Enterprises fresh out of college, which was basically a logistics company that provided transportation and storage for smaller businesses that couldn’t afford to rent a warehouse. In less than five years the company was bringing in over fifty million a year in revenue. Dunlop expanded and diversified and five years after that he became America’s newest billionaire. Then, for reasons unknown, two days ago he went freaking nuts and walked into Gibson and Gibson shooting anything that moved. Killed eight, injured three more. And as we both know, he followed Ashley Parrish around the office like a hunter after a trophy buck.”

  Dillon thumbed through the remaining pages in the folder. “Why does a man with everything throw it all away and go on a murderous rampage? The coroner’s tox screen came back clean. He wasn’t drunk or high. So what gives? There has to be more to it than what you’ve got in this report.” He tossed the stack of pages back on his desk. “We have to dig deeper. What about the widow and his children? Are they back from their trip to Europe yet?”

  “I’ve left five m
essages with the wife’s attorney. He’s supposed to call as soon as they get back, and he hasn’t called.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a close, loving family if they don’t want to cut their vacation short to find out why their loved one went on a shooting spree. For that matter, you’d think they would have at least inquired about taking the body for burial.”

  Chris shrugged. “Rich people are different than other people.”

  “No, they’re not. They may hide behind their wealth and possessions, but at their core they’re like everyone else. They love and hate like the rest of us. Someone in that family had to know something about the father. There are always signs before someone snaps. We need to push the family harder, get them in here for an interview.”

  The door to the chief’s office opened. The chief stepped out with Ashley. He kissed her on the cheek and wiped his eyes.

  “What the... Is the chief...crying?” Dillon asked.

  Chris shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day. What’s going on?”

  “I have no idea.”

  The chief held Ashley’s hand and spoke to her in low tones. Ashley nodded and smiled. Dillon didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, but he was determined to find out. He shoved his chair back just as the front door opened.

  A man wearing a dark suit that screamed federal agent stepped inside and held the door open for a woman in a shiny orange suit that screamed money. Her faded red hair was streaked with gray, and diamonds dripped from her ears, throat and fingers.

  “You are not going to believe who the woman in the peach silk suit is,” Chris said.

  “Who is she?”

  Chris grabbed the folder he’d pitched on Dillon’s desk and flipped through to the back. He pulled out a picture and slapped it on top. “This is a picture of Todd Dunlop’s wife. Look familiar?”

  The picture was taken years ago but there was no mistaking the similarities. “Patricia Dunlop. The widow has finally arrived. What’s she doing with a federal agent?”

  “What makes you think he’s a fed?” Chris asked.

  “Cheap suit, white shirt, black tie. And he’s way too pretty to make it as a regular cop. We’d eat him for breakfast.”

  “I think you’re wrong. I think he’s her lawyer,” Chris said.

  “Fifty bucks?”

  “You’re on.”

  Dillon and Chris started across the room. At the same time, the woman turned and pointed at Ashley.

  “There she is,” she said, in a voice dripping with venom. She marched over to Ashley, leaving the suit to chase after her. She stopped directly in front of her. “That’s the woman who ruined our company and killed my husband.” She drew back her fist and punched Ashley across the face.

  * * *

  ASHLEY HELD THE ice pack to her throbbing cheek and warily eyed the woman who was arguing with the chief on the other side of the room.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Dillon asked, crouching in front of her chair.

  “Okay is relative, I suppose. At least she didn’t knock out any teeth.”

  Dillon’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Let me arrest her for assault. She deserves to be locked up for what she did to you.”

  She lowered the ice pack and placed it on top of the desk. “No. She doesn’t. She just lost her husband. No matter what he did, it’s as much a shock to her as everyone else. Her whole world has been destroyed.”

  “She’s a billionaire. I hardly think her world has been destroyed, but I get the point.” He sighed heavily. “All right. I won’t arrest her. For now. But if you change your mind, let me know.”

  “I won’t.”

  He smiled. “Yeah. I figured. By the way, before Cruella de Vil showed up, what were you doing in the chief’s office so long?”

  “Taxes.”

  “Taxes?”

  She nodded and picked the ice pack up. “I told him about some deductions he’s been missing. If he amends his past returns, he’ll probably get about ten thousand dollars back.” She held the ice against her cheek, hoping to numb the pain.

  Dillon grinned. “I should have known it was about money. That’s the only thing that would make the chief cry.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead and stood. “I’ll see if I can get to the bottom of this mess. Chris will watch over you until I get back.”

  Ashley blinked in surprise at the unexpected kiss as Dillon walked away and joined the chief on the other side of the room. She tore her gaze away from Dillon when Chris rolled his chair up beside her.

  “Don’t worry. We’ve all got your back. Cops are like stray cats—feed them once and they’ll love you forever.” He leaned in close, his expression turning serious for once. “But watch out for Dillon. He’s more of a brother to me than my own brothers could ever be, which means I know him better than anyone else, except maybe his mother.”

  She lowered the ice pack again. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, watch out for him?”

  “He’s a sucker for hard-luck cases, which makes you darn near irresistible. But don’t expect him to ever be able to commit to anything. He suffered a terrible loss and blames himself. He’s a wreck inside. I’m just saying, I saw the way he was looking at you earlier. And I can count on one hand the number of women he’s ever kissed, no matter how innocent, in front of anyone else. If you encourage him, you’ll only end up hurt. And so will he.”

  She was about to protest that she had no intention of pursuing a relationship with Dillon when a commotion had both of them looking toward the front of the room. Patricia Dunlop aimed a glare Ashley’s way, then stalked out the front door. The man who’d come in with her looked noticeably relieved when she left.

  Dillon left the small group huddled around the stranger and came back to Ashley. Tiny lines at the corners of his eyes broadcast the tension in him when he stopped in front of her.

  “Ashley, you need to come to the chief’s office.”

  She put the ice pack down again. “Okay, but why? What’s going on?”

  “Yeah, spill, buddy,” Chris said from his seat beside her.

  “That man in the suit, the one who came in with Mrs. Dunlop, is Special Agent Jason Kent. He’s with the FBI and he’s investigating a string of embezzlement cases. He’s here to arrest you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Ashley shook her head and looked around the room. She was sitting in Chief Thornton’s office with the chief, Chris, Dillon and the FBI agent. But it felt more as though she was in the middle of a horrible nightmare that wouldn’t end.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “You’re accusing me of stealing millions of dollars from companies I never even worked for.”

  Special Agent Kent held up the briefcase he’d brought with him. “I have extensive reports in here that say you did. Your name is all over the audits that were performed on these companies.”

  “But that’s not possible. Could there be another Ashley Parrish out there? That has to be it. You have me confused with someone else.”

  He rattled off a Social Security number. “That’s the number the auditor gave to each company when they made checks out to her for services rendered. Sound familiar?”

  She fisted her hands in her lap. “Well, yes, it’s mine, but that doesn’t mean anything. Someone must have stolen my identity.”

  “And performed audits, under your name, for over a year? People generally steal identities to pilfer credit cards and get into people’s bank accounts. Your typical identity thief wouldn’t be able to fake an audit, and honestly, that sounds ridiculously farfetched.”

  Dillon leaned forward in his chair. “Maybe, maybe not. You did say the auditor was able to embezzle millions of dollars. That’s a heck of a carrot for someone with auditing skills to put in the work to steal Miss Parrish’s id
entity.”

  Kent’s sharp gaze zeroed in on Dillon like a laser-guided missile. “Are we speaking about the same Miss Parrish that you kissed a few minutes ago? I hardly think you’re an unbiased party in this matter.”

  Dillon’s jaw went rigid. “A peck on the forehead is hardly a kiss. And I don’t exactly think you can claim you’re unbiased, since you walked in here with one of the alleged victims in the embezzlement case.”

  This time it was the FBI agent’s turn to look angry. His brows drew down and he narrowed his eyes at Dillon. “Mrs. Dunlop is one of many witnesses I’ve questioned in the course of this investigation. When word of the shooting reached our office in Knoxville and I found out one of the survivors was listed as Ashley Parrish, I called Mrs. Dunlop. I asked if she’d accompany me down here so she could make a positive ID so I could arrest Miss Parrish. And of course, I offered condolences on her husband’s death.”

  “Her husband the shooter, right? We’re talking about the same man who killed eight people and tried to kill Miss Parrish?” Dillon gritted out.

  “More to my point, Detective. Have you been able to find a motive behind the shooting?” He paused and watched Dillon. “From your expression, I’m guessing the answer is no. How does five million dollars, which also happened to destroy Dunlop’s financial empire, sound as a motive? Mr. Dunlop might have been a billionaire on paper, but his company was going through tough economic times and was severely in debt. The five million dollars that disappeared from the company’s accounts—after Miss Parrish’s audit—wiped out the company’s liquidity. They couldn’t make payroll and had to file for bankruptcy last week. A couple of days before Mr. Dunlop’s murderous rampage at Gibson and Gibson. It’s no wonder his widow blames Miss Parrish for her husband’s death.”

  The room went silent and all eyes seemed to focus on Ashley.

  She threw her hands in the air in a helpless gesture. “But I never worked for Dunlop Enterprises. And I’ve never even seen Mrs. Dunlop before.”