Black Out

by Lynn Raye Harris

  “I know. I’m proud anyway. The way you stood up to Ian? That was epic. I don’t think he gets that very often.”

  “He’s a jerk.”

  “He can be. But he has a lot on his shoulders, more than you know, and it takes a toll. He forgets how to be human sometimes.”

  “I know he did a lot for Jace and Maddy. I don’t hate him. In fact, that alone makes me like him more than he deserves.” She pulled in a breath. “Did you find out anything else?”

  “Not really. We don’t know who tried to break into your place. He kept his face covered in front of the building’s cameras so they didn’t get anything distinguishable. Average height and build, dressed in black. Nothing usable.”

  “Was that number an account number in the Caymans?”

  “Still working on it. Dax Freed is one of the best computer guys I know. He’ll figure it out.”

  Angie leaned her heated forehead against the cool window. “I spent days trying to find the error. There is no error. The spreadsheet Charles had is for a secret account, not the official account. That’s why they don’t match.”

  “That’s what we think, too.”

  “He transferred it onto the BB&B server the night before he supposedly quit. That’s terrifying. He must have thought he was in danger to do that. But where is he now? Or did they really get to him and you just don’t know it yet?”

  “It’s possible. There are a lot of ways to dispose of a body when you don’t want it found.”

  She was cold inside. And hot on the outside. What the hell? “I saw the evidence of his—or someone’s—criminal activity. I wish I never had. I want them caught. Whoever they are. And Charles—I don’t wish him dead, but where in the hell did he get two mil? He wasn’t some kind of crazy frugal guy who’d been saving his whole life and then died in an apartment with sixty cats. He was in his thirties, and he didn’t scrimp on the good stuff. He drove a Porsche GT3. Not a brand new one, but still. His suits were Brooks Brothers, and he wore a Rolex. He bought custom Italian loafers and bragged about how marvelous they were. Ugh.”

  Colt pulled up to a red light and stopped, his hand draping over the wheel as he turned to look at her. “I know, Ang. That’s why I do this job. I don’t want the bad guys to get away with anything. I want to stop them before they do any harm. I don’t know if Charles is alive or not—but I intend to find out.”

  She thought of something else then. “Was Ian serious when he said you could use me at BDI? Or was he just taking a jab at me?”

  Colt smiled. “Ian makes a lot of jokes, but you always know they’re jokes. He never kids about anything serious. He wasn’t kidding about you.”

  “I’m an accountant, not a spy—or whatever you guys are calling yourselves today.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You’re a mathematician. You analyze data. You look for patterns and you do statistical analysis. You’re exactly the kind of employee BDI can use. Not everyone carries a gun and fights in the field. We have plenty of people who man the desks and make sure we have the information we need to do the job. You could be one of those people.”

  “When you say it like that, it sounds intriguing. Though I have to admit, being an accountant is turning out to be much crazier than I’d have ever thought. My dad was an accountant for forty years—pretty sure he never had bad guys after him.”

  Working at BDI, analyzing data, and knowing the danger that Colt and Jace and the others endured wouldn’t be easy. And then there was Maddy. What if Angie learned something that could affect Jace and had to keep it from her? That would be awful. And then if something happened to him? She would never forgive herself if she’d known something she couldn’t share with Maddy.

  “Think about it,” Colt said. When she didn’t reply, he reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s data analysis, Ang. You don’t have to worry about making decisions that affect the field operatives. You’d work with a team and your conclusions would be thoroughly discussed before any actions were taken.”

  “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”

  He smiled. Her heart flipped. “Because I know you.”

  She was beginning to believe he did.

  It was a thrilling thought.

  Chapter Eleven

  Colt drove back to his place and parked in the driveway. He powered up the garage door and they dashed for the opening as the rain pounded down on their heads. Angie shivered, her teeth chattering as he slid the key into the lock and opened the door.

  “I need to check the house,” he told her. “Wait here.”

  She nodded. He didn’t expect to find anyone inside since the alarm hadn’t been tripped, but in his line of work he’d learned never to underestimate a determined foe. No one had tried to break into her condo again, but that didn’t mean they’d given up. If they’d somehow traced her here, they could be waiting.

  Clearing the house took no time at all, and then he was back to the kitchen. Angie stood in the garage, still chattering.

  “It’s safe,” he told her.

  She stepped into the kitchen and he locked the door behind her. He pulled her into his arms and held her, transferring some of his warmth to her chilled body. It was a measure of how far they’d come that she slipped her arms around him and held on while he rubbed her back.

  “You’re cold, minette.”

  She tilted her head back, smiling up at him with a question in her gaze. “Minette? What’s that?”

  “It means kitten.”

  “And why am I a kitten now?”

  She didn’t seem upset about it, but she arched an eyebrow.

  “Because your claws came out today, Ang. You look beautiful and sweet—and you’re definitely both of those things—but you’re also fierce and willing to fight back.”

  “You thought I was delicate, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. No sense lying. “Can you blame me? You avoided me for months. According to your best friend you haven’t entirely been yourself. I don’t think anyone could be blamed for thinking you were in a delicate state of mind after everything that happened last year.”

  “I know. I guess I was feeling delicate.”

  “But not anymore.”

  “No, not anymore. Like I told you in the car—I’m done with letting people get the best of me. Not that I’m thrilled about everything I just learned about Charles and his spreadsheet and hidden accounts, but I’m not going to freak out about it either.”

  She tugged her lip between her teeth and an arrow of lust shot straight to his groin.

  “I know Ian told you more,” she added.

  “Yes, but none of it relates to the immediate problem just yet.”

  He could feel her stiffening slightly in his embrace. “Which means you aren’t going to tell me.”

  “That’s right, but you already know that. I’m sorry if it upsets you, but trust me when I tell you there are good reasons for it.”

  She didn’t need to know more than she already did about the Cardinal Group, or about the fact someone had used the Barton, Barnes and Blake alarm code—there was only one for the entire office—on the night of the fire. The code had been used to enter the building twice that night. Someone had come in at 10:13 and left again at 11:53. Someone returned at 1:00 a.m. They’d punched in, but not out. And the fire alarm had triggered within half an hour of that entry.

  Which meant whoever started the fire had the alarm code. An employee? Or someone who’d gotten the code by other means?

  There was no doubt the fire had been started on purpose. Though Colt had told Angie BDI didn’t do fire investigation, they had explosives experts. Ian had gotten permission for his people to liaise with the fire investigators as they searched the premises—and they’d found evidence of an accelerant in what was left of Charles Martinelli’s office.

  What they didn’t know was why. Why had someone taken the risk of burning down the building? The files were already deleted by that time. They’d been removed during the
first visit that evening. Dax didn’t know whose login had been used to do it yet, but he’d find out.

  The second visit seemed to have been for the purpose of setting a fire. Could have been two different people who’d entered, and with differing purposes. But it sure didn’t make a lot of sense just yet.

  “Okay,” Angie finally said, surprising him. “I’m trusting you, Colt. I know Jace can’t tell Maddy everything, so I’m going to believe you when you say you can’t tell me more. But when you can, I want to know.”

  “You have my word, minette.”

  “I assume I have to stay with you for the time being?”

  “That’s the plan.” And he was glad of it. He didn’t want her in her condo right now. Not only because something was going on and she might be in danger, but also because he liked having her here. He liked this moment right now, when she stood in his embrace and didn’t shrink from him.

  “So long as you cook for me, I think I can deal.”

  “I will cook for you. Whatever you want.”

  “Whatever I want?”

  He loved the saucy expression on her face. “If I can, I will.”

  “Can you do coq au vin?”

  He snorted. “What do you think?”

  “I think that’s a yes. To be clear, I’ve only had it once. But it was really good and I’d like to try it again.”

  “I’ll fix it for you. I need to do some shopping. Probably not today though.”

  “That’s okay. Soon?”

  “Tomorrow. Is that soon enough?”

  “Sure. What’s for lunch today? I’m starved.”

  He loved that she had an appetite. “We can order something and have it delivered. Suggestions?”

  “Indian?”

  “Sounds good. You warm enough now?”

  “I think so. It was the rain, and maybe some leftover adrenaline from the meeting.”

  Reluctantly, he let her go. He pulled up the menu from his favorite Indian restaurant. They looked it over and he placed an order. Angie disappeared into the bedroom. When she returned, she was wearing a sweatshirt and she’d taken her boots off and put on fuzzy socks that were as thick as boots. She grinned at him as she sat cross-legged on his couch and opened her laptop.

  Colt thought he could spend every day for the rest of his life like this. Angie in his house, wearing her comfy clothes and working on her computer. The only thing that would make it more perfect was if he had the right to touch her. He’d kiss her, strip her naked, and carry her to his room where he’d make love to her for the rest of the afternoon.

  He shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him? Yeah, he wanted her. More than he remembered wanting anyone. But there was more to it than that. He wanted to talk to her. Joke with her. Share things with her that he’d never shared with anyone.

  It was crazy shit, to feel this way. Hanging around Jace and Brett had made him soft. He saw what they were like with their women and a part of him wanted it too. But why Angie? She’d never given him a reason to think she could feel the same way.

  Until recently, she’d barely spoken to him. She’d always fled whenever he’d arrived in the vicinity. It was only this week they’d spent time alone together without her trying to run.

  He liked it. He hoped it lasted.

  Their food arrived about forty-five minutes later. Angie tucked her laptop into her handbag. They sat at the kitchen table, eating chicken tikka masala, saag paneer and naan, and laughing about nothing important.

  YouTube videos. Movies. Television shows. Books.

  It was comfortable. Fun.

  They finished eating. They sat at the table a while longer, talking, when Angie’s face turned red and she sat back in her chair.

  “Wow. I feel a little hot.”

  “Might be the spice,” he replied, though it’d be a little odd for it to kick in after they’d eaten and not during.

  “Could be.”

  She drank deeply from her water glass and gave him a smile. They talked a while longer and then she pushed her hair from her face. She looked weary. Run down.

  “You know, I didn’t sleep all that well last night. I think I might lie down for a bit.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

  Her smile was wan. “You’re a good guy, Colt. I really appreciate it.”

  She pushed her chair back and stood. She wobbled, and Colt shot up to steady her. She smiled again.

  “Sorry. Just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well since this started, so I guess it’s more than last night catching up with me.”

  He watched her make her way to the bedroom. The door opened and shut. Everything was silent. He started to clean up the dishes and put away any leftovers.

  It wasn’t until nearly two hours had gone by and Angie still hadn’t emerged that he went to check on her. He tapped the door lightly.

  She didn’t respond so he tapped harder. Still nothing.

  He opened the door and peered in. She was huddled under the blankets, her body curled into a ball. He started to close the door and leave her, but on impulse he went over and laid a hand on her cheek.

  Angie was burning up with fever.

  “It’s not the flu,” someone said. “Probably a twenty-four hour bug.”

  Angie dragged her eyes open to peer up at the men. Colt and… Jared? She thought that was his name. She’d met him earlier today at BDI, and then again a little while ago when he’d swabbed her throat.

  She hadn’t enjoyed it, but she’d felt so miserable that she’d agreed if it would help her pounding head.

  “What do we need to do?” Colt asked.

  “I’ll give her some IV fluids to help with dehydration. There’ll be some anti-nausea meds, some vitamins, and an antacid to help with stomach acid. Tylenol for fever. It’ll help, but she’s still going to feel like hell for at least twenty-four hours. You’ll need to be careful if you’re staying with her.”

  “I am,” Colt said.

  “Wait,” Angie said, though speaking made her feel like she might throw up.

  The two men looked down at her.

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “No,” Jared said. “I’m an EMT.”

  Colt made a noise. “He’s being modest, minette. Jared was an Air Force para-rescueman. He’s an EMT, but the best of the best. PJs are the guys the Navy SEALs call when they need rescued.”

  “Okay,” she said. Because what else could she say? If Jared was an EMT and he said she had a virus, and he was going to give her IV meds, then whatever. She’d let Maddy’s cat give her an IV if it’d help this nausea go away.

  Jared left the room and Colt bent down to stroke her hair. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “It sucks to be sick.”

  “I feel terrible,” she moaned. She wanted to cry. “Everything hurts.”

  “I know, mon ange. Look, I’m going to pick you up, okay? I’m putting you in my bed. It’s bigger and more comfortable—and the bathroom is right there if you need it.”

  “No, don’t give up your bed.”

  “It’s fine, Ang. I’d rather you have it.” He scooped her into his arms and she clung to him, trying not to sob or throw up as he carried her into the bedroom next door. It was slightly bigger than the one she’d had, but the bed was a lot bigger. It was a king and he pulled the covers back and placed her on it.

  She was wearing her leggings and the sweatshirt and thick socks she’d put on earlier, but she was still cold. He tugged the covers up and she gripped them in her fists. Her stomach heaved.

  “I think—” she said. Then she threw the covers off and tried to dash for the bathroom. She didn’t quite make it.

  Colt was there, gently holding her and pushing her hair out of the way while she puked on his bedroom floor.

  “Oh god,” she groaned when it was over. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, minette. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  Embarrassment would have eaten her alive if she’d had room
for anything else. But she didn’t. She ached, her stomach hurt, her head hurt, and she was so cold she wanted to climb under the covers again and not come out.

  Colt cleaned her up, got her back to bed, gave her some water—she nearly gagged on it going down—and then Jared returned with the IV. He sat beside her on the bed and went to work finding a vein and inserting the needle. Angie turned her head so she didn’t have to see. She hated needles.

  She heard Colt leave the room and return. She couldn’t see him but she knew he was cleaning up the mess she’d made. Later, she would care. A lot. She’d be mortified and she’d think there was no way he’d find her sexy anymore. The days of him wanting to kiss her were over, that’s for sure.

  Except none of that mattered at the moment. All that mattered was feeling better.

  “There you go,” Jared said soothingly. “We’ll get this into you and things will improve soon.”

  Colt was at her side again, taking Jared’s place and putting a cool cloth on her forehead. She’d thought she was too cold for that, but the coolness of the cloth felt good on her heated skin. So long as she could stay beneath the covers, it was nice.

  “I’m sorry, Colt,” she said, choking back tears of frustration and pain.

  “Nothing to apologize for, baby.”

  “I never get sick.”

  “You’ve picked up a stomach bug,” Jared said. “The worst will be over in about twenty-four hours. Best thing you can do is rest and hydrate.”

  “Thanks, Jared,” Colt said. “I appreciate you coming over.”

  “She’s one of us, man. Least I can do.”

  One of them? She didn’t know what that meant, but she liked the way it sounded.

  “You gonna be okay if I show Jared out?” Colt asked.

  “I just want to sleep.”

  “Okay, baby. You do that. I’ll be here if you need me.” He stroked her cheek and then he got up to go with Jared.

  Angie never heard him return.

  Angie slept for hours. When she woke, Colt was there to give her water before she felt asleep again. He’d removed the IV and disposed of it after it finished dripping medicine into her.