From the Top

by Roxanne Smith

  He rubbed his forehead. “Oh, God. Don’t remind me, please. I’m working hard to expunge that part of the meal from my memory banks.”

  That only made her laugh harder. “I just, you know, I was thinking of her the other day. And I wanted to let her know it.” She paused and sniffed. “I thought how nice if I could send her a quick note. Or call her. Sometimes, it’s nice to hear you’re on someone’s mind. And it came to me that a text isn’t so different from her written messages, if she could figure out the program.”

  Grant nodded and they walked along in silence. The streets had abandoned their usual hurry and bustle as the sun disappeared behind the towers of downtown. At night, the city seemed a different place. He was reminded of their first dinner date gone awry, and smiled.

  “Listen, Seraphina. I want to…” He paused. He had no idea how to tell her he wanted to help her investigate Brendan without giving away Ophelia’s whole operation. He realized he had no way to explain that he knew what was going on, and wanted to come down on her side. “Um, well, I want to bring up the, uh…it just seems like maybe there’s something going on.” He regretted that his words made the laughter fall away from her face completely, and morphed her expression into a guarded one. He fumbled for the way in, like feeling his way through a dark, unfamiliar room. “It’s just…you’ve been distant. And focused, but more than just overseeing Marc’s deconstruction of the site. He says you’re there often, even though you needn’t be. I wanted to tell you that whatever it is, I’m here. And I don’t know if it’s the kind of thing you require help with…” He swallowed, hoping he wasn’t going too far. “But I’m willing. To help, that is. With anything.”

  At some point, they’d quit walking. Seraphina turned away from him, worrying her lip. He watched her as a light breeze blew the ends of her hair around her shoulders. A tortuously long moment passed. When she met his eyes finally, hope sparked. But then her gaze narrowed, and she glanced away with a heavy sigh. “No, thanks. I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending something hasn’t snagged my attention. But it’s nothing you should worry about.” Her smile was a ghost of the usual thing, not reaching her eyes.

  He nodded his acceptance. His heart fell to realize she didn’t trust him, and his frustration mounted. Not with Seraphina.

  Ophelia was to blame. And he resolved to confront her.

  He had his first opportunity late the next morning. A quick text had Ophelia waiting in his inner office by the time he arrived. He greeted her with a nod and shook off his coat. “We need to discuss the plan.”

  “Oh?” Ophelia’s eyebrows rose challengingly, and her mouth was a firm line. She disapproved already and she hadn’t heard anything yet.

  Grant didn’t care. He took his chair and leaned back, straightening and choking up his tie. “Seraphina doesn’t trust me.”

  “She doesn’t need to.”

  He bit back the reply that wanted to launch from his tongue. Ophelia wouldn’t care about the personal nature of his concern. If he was going to force her to concede, he’d have to do it on terms she’d understand. “Does it not undermine what we’re trying to accomplish if Seraphina decides I’m working with Brendan, or that I know what’s going on and am doing nothing to address criminal activity happening right in front of my eyes?”

  Ophelia shook her head and started for the door. “Grant, I understand your concern. But Seraphina’s suspicions about you are not what I’m worried about, and they’re not what could undo this whole thing. In fact, it’s as good as we could hope for that she’s distanced herself from you while she’s looking into the activities at Tanbee House. It means that Brendan doesn’t suspect your involvement, and that is paramount. Because you’re the tip of the iceberg, Mr. Gallagher. Seraphina’s suspicion, he expects. If she starts digging around, asking questions…well, that’s no surprise. She’s not Oliver. She’s not a threat to Brendan, as far as he’s concerned. He’s a career criminal. I’m sure he intends to run clever little circles around her. Her sniffing around is a joke. But you’re another matter. If you’re always at her side, he’ll conclude you’ve decided she’s right about him. That’s best-case. Worst? He begins to suspect he’s been set up.”

  She didn’t wait for his response, and he was almost glad. Because at the moment, he didn’t have one. At least not one Ophelia would appreciate. He’d get nowhere through her. But there were other parties to whom he could make his case.

  And would. He rose again, donning his coat once more. He waved to Annie as he stalked past her. “Hold my calls. Cancel my meetings.”

  He grinned at the string of polite curses that followed him out the door.

  Chapter 14

  Grant stood on the front porch, marveling at the size of the huge old Victorian and wondering why on earth two people needed such a massive home. What did Kay Bing and Oliver Pierce do with all the extra space? Unless they were planning on opening a bed and breakfast or having a passel of kids, then maybe they’d require such a sizable home. He couldn’t decide if it was rude to ask or not.

  Oliver answered the door. Light green eyes held him in a steady gaze. “Hello.” There was a hint of question in the greeting.

  Grant cocked his head at that, amused. “Come now, Mr. Pierce. You know who I am. You might even guess why I’m here.”

  All pretense of confusion fled. Oliver grinned and sighed heavily. “Guess you better come on in. Wouldn’t do for someone to see you here.”

  “Someone named Brendan Berkley,” Grant dared as soon as they were inside the foyer, safely behind the closed door.

  Oliver regarded him as his amusement faded. “Or any one of the people he works with, who may or may not have been recognized by our tech team as they rode slowly past my house, or trailed me on public streets. I’m watched all the time. By my people, and a few of his.”

  His boyish impression hid the tension well, but upon closer inspection, Grant noted the lines of strain around Oliver’s eyes. “Then I owe you an apology. But I took precautions.”

  Oliver shrugged and walked away. “The department’s put out word I left town, so I’m not technically here, anyway. We haven’t seen any movement in the last week around the house. And we have contingencies in place. Be prepared to hire Free Leaf Concepts for your interior green needs, should word get out you stopped by.”

  “Understood.” He followed Oliver through a well-lit foyer, paneled in rich oak. “Original hardwood?”

  Oliver glanced back with a grin. “Kay would be utterly delighted to hear you ask. Yes. She refurbished it herself.”

  “I wouldn’t live up to my reputation if I didn’t notice floors like these. They’re incredible. I could tell they were old, but the condition is almost startling.”

  They entered a gorgeous high-end kitchen in shades of pure white and soft blues. Oliver’s grin widened as Grant stood in the doorway and whistled. “Yeah, Kay did this, too. Design and most of the dirty work.”

  Grant sat where Oliver motioned toward a chair at a high granite bar. A moment later, a glass of lemonade slid toward him. “Thanks.”

  “Eh.” Oliver shrugged. “It’s the kind of kitchen that compels one to be a gracious host.” He didn’t join Grant at the bar, but poured himself a lemonade, took a long sip, then settled against the counter. “What’s this about, Grant?”

  The question was affable enough, but Oliver couldn’t entirely hide his anxiety. Grant made him nervous. “Seraphina.” A direct answer for a direct question. Oliver only hitched his eyebrows slightly, so Grant continued. “I understand the position I’m in and the part I play. I understood that when I agreed to do this. But as you know, there are always unforeseen circumstances and concerns that crop up in any big venture, especially one relying so heavily on everyone doing what they’re supposed to do. For example, if Brendan hadn’t applied at Gallagher Interiors following our takeover of his stash house. Or if Seraphina had tu
rned down the Tanbee House job.”

  “I hear she nearly lost it. To a guy named Roper.”

  Annoyed, Grant met Oliver’s stare with a hard one of his own. “I still have a business to run. Seraphina would’ve been assigned Tanbee House, regardless. At the time, I wanted to ensure I had Roper’s services under contract for the job. Circumstances intervened, and here we are.”

  Oliver only sighed wearily in response.

  “Look, I’m more than happy to be a part of the team that takes down Brendan Berkley and the jerks he’s working with. But I did not agree to do so at a personal loss.”

  “Personal loss? What do you have to lose here, Grant? Your company is working on the most extensive sting orchestrated in decades by law enforcement in this area, an operation the entire city from the governor to the city planning commission has some small part in. You stand to gain a great deal.”

  He repeated himself. “Seraphina.”

  The other man shook his head. “You can’t appear to be helping her.”

  Grant should’ve guessed. “Ophelia’s been in touch.”

  “My captain and I are running this thing from the opposite sides of the state, all for the sake of keeping Brendan in the dark. If he gets wind of any weird vibes, or becomes suspicious, Seraphina is the only thing we have to hang his misgivings on. She’s critical. Brendan knew going in that she was employed with you, and she’s a risk he’ll have accounted for.”

  “Meanwhile, she can’t decide if I’m involved or not,” Grant shot at him. “She doesn’t trust me. I’m only asking for the ability to let her know she can. She’s not a stupid woman, and she knows Brendan is up to something. But I hired him, and I put him on the team to give him access to Tanbee House. My general contractor is pretty sure she’s found Brendan’s stash—” He stopped as Oliver nodded confirmation.

  “She’s in,” Oliver said. “Seraphina got us a sample and photographic evidence last night. We know Curry will discover the drugs today if he stays on schedule, which means Brendan will have moved them by now. We kept him out of Tanbee House just long enough to give Seraphina time to do what we needed her to do, which is be my link to the investigation, without tipping off Brendan.”

  “Just arrest the bastard already.”

  “That’s not the plan, Grant. I have only indirect contact with the team running this, so I couldn’t make that call if I wanted to. That’s why every step has been so meticulously planned, and must be carried out with the same precision. There are too many moving parts to throw a wrench now. Besides, we don’t want to bust him moving the stash. We want to see where he takes it next. But in the meantime, we’re garnering what we need to make an arrest and a charge that’ll stick when the time comes. He’s not slipping past me again.”

  “Well, if the drugs are gone, Seraphina will guess Brendan figured out how to access them. And even more good reason to question my involvement. I’ve made it all a little too easy for Brendan. Maybe even Brendan will see that.”

  Oliver shook his head. “You’ve played your part well, Grant. And I’m sorry, man, but I have to ask you to keep playing it. For a while, we worried you getting cozy with Seraphina would make Brendan nervous, but because you stood up for him so well the night he ran into you, we’ve seen no deviations from what we expected of his movements.”

  “How do you know all this, if you’re so far removed from your own investigation?”

  “Carrier pigeons.” He laughed at the look on Grant’s face. “Not quite, but close. I can get information, but I can’t give new directives. I can’t do anything but sit here and hide and hope we’re right that Brendan would feel more secure going after the drugs if he thought I were out of town. So far, no pigeon has arrived to tell me anything. But then, maybe you’ll hear before I do.”

  Grant narrowed his eyes, confused. Then his phone rang, and Oliver smiled wide. Grant glanced at Marc Curry’s name before answering briskly. “Marc. What do you need?”

  “Boss. We found something pretty strange behind one of the walls.”

  His gaze slammed into Oliver’s. “Yeah? What?”

  “You should come see this for yourself.” The man’s voice lowered. “She just got here.”

  “I think I’ll do that. Thanks for letting me know.” He ended the call and gave Oliver an appraising look. “They found something. But Marc’s reaction doesn’t suggest drugs, but something less incriminating.”

  Oliver didn’t ask any questions but rose and took their nearly full glasses and set them by the sink. “I suppose I should keep my eyes peeled for a pigeon today.”

  At the door, before walking out, Grant faced Oliver. “You’re telling me you didn’t go outside the rulebook during your investigation into Free Leaf Concepts? Because some might question how Kay got involved.”

  Oliver pressed his lips together and conceded. “I perhaps unwisely involved a civilian with whom I may or may not had developed feelings for in my investigation, ’tis true.”

  Grant nodded knowingly. “Then you understand.”

  In an instant, he knew Oliver did. But the pity in his gaze didn’t outweigh the determination. “The main difference is that Free Leaf was my investigation. I had the power to make the call. Unfortunately, the deal you signed on for doesn’t give you that kind of leeway. This isn’t your boardroom and you’re not calling the shots. Besides, Seraphina is pretty dead set on bringing Brendan down. If you were the one who ruined it, I’m not sure she’d agree the ends justify the means.”

  Grant rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Maybe not. I’m not sure why she takes this so personally. Like Brendan is doing all this to spite her.”

  Oliver shrugged, but his smile widened. “It is personal. For me and for Kay. And that makes it personal for Seraphina. Because that’s the kind of person she is. I mean, yeah, she’s kind of imperious and scary. Threatening, one might say, in the right light. You should’ve seen her playing mama bear when she thought I was using Kay. But…well, there you go. Mama bear. Brendan messed with Kay. Now, he’s gonna have to deal with Seraphina.”

  Grant sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t like that she feels like some sort of lone crusader. Like she can’t trust me. And I’m not allowed to do anything about it. But if it’s the way, then it’s the way. Suppose you’re right, and she’ll thank me more for the deception than if I screw up the operation and Brendan slips like smoke through your fingers again. I commend you. If it were me, I feel like a bird in a cage. You should be out there running him down. Must take quite a bit of willpower to hold yourself back.”

  “You don’t believe it’s my idea to sequester myself like this, do you? I’m taking one for the team, Grant.” Oliver clapped him on the shoulder, the friendly gesture at odds with the bitter edge of the words. “I know you are, too. And so is Seraphina. If you think it sucks that she’ll suspect you of being a criminal for a little while, imagine how pissed she’s going to be when I admit I was behind this whole charade. Between her and Kay, there’s a good chance the next time we meet will be at my funeral.”

  * * * *

  Seraphina caught the tail end of Marc’s call, swiftly putting together who he spoke to. A few specific murmured words sent intuition roiling through her.

  There were times when she believed women’s intuition a simple misnomer that curious, nosey women liked to claim. If you seek, so shall ye find. But she couldn’t discount the few times in her life when her bones seemed to know something before her mind came around to noticing it, and a truth unveiled itself through no effort on her part. In this case, Marc’s tone and timing drew clues together like a hook caught on a string, dragging the ends together until they made the neatest of bows.

  Seraphina turned away from the hubbub in the bedroom, where a thick crowd of crewmen gathered around the wall they’d torn down. They were arguing about whether or not they had damaged the rare find with their swinging
sledgehammer. The man with the hammer disagreed. She stepped close to Marc, close enough to threaten his personal space. “You’ve been watching me for him.”

  Marc’s eyes grew hooded, and he kept his gaze on his phone. “I’ve been keeping an eye on my worksite. It’s my job.”

  Seraphina felt the muscles in her jaw work. “You’ve been reporting to Grant. Specifically about me. Don’t deny it. I’m going to call you both out the moment he arrives, and he won’t appreciate your cowardice. Why does he have you watching me?”

  The truth was plain in the lines of Marc’s frown.

  Her intuition had struck true. “What cause could I give Grant to spy on me?”

  She hadn’t expected Marc to answer, but he surprised her with one. Well, as much of an answer as he could give, at any rate, accompanied by the shrug of one shoulder. “I don’t know. He asked to keep an eye on you, that’s all. Not to interfere or ask questions, but to let him know when you were here and what you were working on. So there, that’s what I’ve done. Now, you want to know why, you ask Mr. Gallagher, because I don’t know, and I wasn’t dumb enough to ask. Mr. Gallagher isn’t the kind of man you question. Not if you’re just one of the hard hat boys, anyway.”

  Seraphina rubbed her eyes, disbelief warring with indignation. “Do you even know what was found back there in the wall?”

  Marc’s cheeks wrinkled as his mouth spread into a sort of considering grimace. “Not a damn clue. But it looked heavy, old, and valuable. I have them pulling away as much of the wall as they can so we can get a better look.” He gestured at the camera hanging around her neck. “You might want to get a few pictures while the thing’s still where we found it.”

  Brendan. He’d found a way inside and removed the drugs.

  Her jaw clenched, she left Marc standing apart from the group and entered the bedroom. For just a moment, she drew the parallel between elbowing her way into the crush of men inside the room, and her forceful determination and unwavering conviction that Brendan was involved in this and she was going to prove it. She blinked back frustration. It wasn’t her job to prove Brendan’s guilt. She was a designer, not a detective.