Crossing Double (A Heartbreaker Novel Book 3)

by Tamra Baumann

  “We’ve apprehended the agents involved in your office. Now we need you to get busy using that magic brain of yours and tie the new evidence to the key players. I’m told you’re the only one who can do it fast enough.”

  “I can do both. Guard Ms. Chapman and work at the same time.”

  Stanger slapped a hand on Brent’s back. “Not necessary. Don’t worry. I got this. You need to do what you do best.” He opened the door to a small room that held a table with a laptop. “The director is impressed with your work, Keiser.”

  Nice, but that wasn’t his biggest worry at the moment. “We don’t have Miller?”

  The agent’s jaw ticked. “Not yet. Your buddy Zach lit a fire under the director’s ass, so the orders are all coming from the top. We’ll get him soon.”

  “If someone’s tipped him, he’d have a plan to disappear. From what I’ve seen, he’s meticulous.”

  Stanger nodded. “We’re on it. Here’s the file. Have at it. We’ve pulled these suspects in for questioning based on what’s in there, so move fast. You need to make the charges stick.” He held out a folder three inches thick. “Good luck.”

  Brent accepted the portfolio and sat behind the computer. After Stanger left, Brent opened the file. On the top was Sara’s recreation of his computer screen.

  What time had she gotten up to get all this done?

  Below were pages of evidence from who knows where. Mario must’ve called in some major favors. He’d risked a lot to save Sara and her father. Because Sara was clearly as important to him as was his biological daughter, Dani. That was what it must be like to have a family who has your back.

  Brent dropped his head into his hands. What had he done? Why had he thought they’d let an agent with little to no field experience keep Sara safe when corruption ran all the way to the upper ranks? Stanger wasn’t taking the threat to Sara’s life seriously.

  Dammit. Maybe he should have let Sara escape with Mario and her family.

  As he beat himself up, he paged through the banking transactions, separating the off-shore accounts and the domestic ones. He studied the names of the people involved Sara had sent. The list was extensive. It had to have taken months to compile.

  There were bank managers, law enforcement, real estate agents, title agents, foreign businessmen and women, and celebrities. Probably friends Holden recruited. Like he’d tried to do with Annalisa. They ranged from people with lots of money to those with regular nine-to-five jobs who probably needed Miller’s extra-dirty funds to survive.

  He scanned the list and the people’s occupations. The answer was there; he could feel it. After clearing his mind and closing his eyes, he focused on the pages he’d just read. Combined with what he’d already figured out before the wedding, it was as if a physical line drew itself from the beginning to the end of the money chain in his mind. He stood and uncapped a dry marker, laying the whole operation out on the whiteboard hanging on the wall. The extra financial data Sara had sent had been the missing key.

  A half hour later, when he was done, he stepped back and double-checked his work. Large amounts of drug money from offshore accounts traveled entirely through the chain until it became LA real estate. They waited a year or two, sold the real estate, and then the clean money got broken up into smaller amounts and eventually into the players’ legitimate accounts. Some got turned over into even bigger mansions worth hundreds of millions. But it all came down to dirty-money-bought real estate, and then when it was sold to a legitimate buyer, the money was clean.

  The people buying the properties involved had to look legit. Hence the celebrities holding titles to homes they didn’t own in entirety. They owned shares of corporations. The corporations owned the properties. Rich people like Annalisa needed places to park their money. Thank God she’d been too smart to fall into what would look to most outsiders like a legitimate investment property opportunity.

  Miller had done a fantastic job of making sure no one knew the real identity of who or what they were dealing with.

  Holden’s mistake was to involve Annalisa, who involved Mario. According to Sara, no one outside their family knew her mother was dating Mario. Even Holden. Mario’s crooked family members probably didn’t appreciate Miller’s crew playing in their sandbox. But that was how criminals got caught. Secrets always came out eventually, no matter how well shrouded.

  He quickly grabbed his burner phone and took a picture of the whiteboard. He sent it to Zach and then to the laptop Mario had given him. Until Miller was caught, Brent was covering his bases.

  Smiling, he laid the dry marker on the metal tray and nodded. It all made perfect sense. And that promotion he’d hoped for was looking good once again because all the crooked agents would be gone after he turned the data in to the right people.

  But it still didn’t explain how Annalisa, who wasn’t involved, tipped off Sara. Maybe someone in Mario’s family had.

  Worse, where the hell was Miller hiding?

  Chapter 19

  Humiliating.

  It was the only word Sara could think of after she’d had another pat down. Ten times more intrusive than those she’d ever had at the airport.

  She’d just forwarded these people stacks of evidence Mario’s family had already been gathering for their revenge. Although, as Mario pointed out, they’d planned to use the banking information to figure out how to steal the money from Miller, not to hand over to the FBI. But if it meant Miller had to live the rest of his life behind bars, Mario’s family could live with that.

  And yet the FBI still treated her like a criminal. It made no sense.

  At least the guard had been kind and given her a bottle of water while she waited for her lawyer. Sara glanced around the small room with a table and four chairs where she’d been dumped. One wall held a big mirror. She’d seen enough cop shows on TV to know that was two-way glass. Was someone behind that mirror? Watching her?

  Was it Brent?

  The traitor.

  He’d had no right to get so angry with her earlier. And say such hurtful things.

  She and Mario had to go behind his back to try to help her dad because Brent made it clear he’d never understand why she had to try to help her father. Even if he did make some huge mistakes.

  Brent didn’t know what it was like to love someone that much. Or what it was like to be truly loved. It made her sad for him, but only for a moment before her anger rushed back and reminded her that Brent would never be the man she’d hoped he was.

  He’d had his chance to be loved by her, but not anymore. She was done with him.

  Who was he to tell her she’d be ineffective as a counselor? And what was up with the whole thing about how she was going to take a job to atone for being rich?

  Technically, she wasn’t rich. Her mother was.

  Which sounds like something a rich person would say.

  There were trusts and property that’d come her way most likely. So maybe she’d be rich one day, but currently, she had eleven hundred bucks to her name and the Porsche her mom had given her. And given the fact that her father was probably going to have to sell their house to help pay back a portion of his debt, she’d have to find somewhere else to live too. And Justin and Zoila would probably be out of a job. That made her heart hurt even worse.

  Brent had been right about one thing. They were from different worlds, but he was the one throwing up barriers and then claiming it was her who refused to look past them. His lecture about how she couldn’t shake her heritage and that people in the shelters wouldn’t take her seriously had been a knife to her soul. All she’d been striving for the past few years was to be taken seriously for who she truly was.

  Thinking about it all left her tired and wounded, and it felt like her heart was physically being ripped out of her chest.

  She crossed her arms on the tabletop and laid her head down.

  No crying. Time to be tough. Ignore the sick feeling in your gut. Get through this, live long enough until everyone
is behind bars, and then prove freakin’ Brent wrong.

  The door opened, and a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties wearing a killer black dress and heels stepped inside. After the guard who’d accompanied her left, she laid her briefcase on the table and stuck out her hand. “Hi, Sara. I’m, Juanita Rivera. Your mother sent me to represent you. Please let me do the talking today unless I give you permission.”

  “Okay. Thanks for coming.” Sara returned the shake. Juanita seemed like a tough cookie who came to play. Just what Sara needed.

  Juanita slid a piece of legal-sized paper in front of Sara. “Let’s go over a few things before the agent gets here to interview you. Are all these things your mother told me true?”

  She picked up the paper and read the handwritten note.

  --Sara doesn’t know anything about the evidence she turned over, except that it was sent to her in an anonymous email. She merely forwarded it to the FBI agent’s name it provided.

  --Sara knew nothing of her father’s activities until Agent Keiser informed her of them. Therefore, she’s not a material witness to the case.

  --Sara heard Police Commissioner Miller threaten both her and Agent Keiser’s lives, making her feel unsafe to go to the authorities. Sara planned to contact the police once she got to the safety of her mother’s secure compound.

  --Sara is willing to hire her own security team until all parties involved are contained.

  Her mother had probably consulted her sizable legal team and compiled the list.

  She nodded and handed the paper back. “Yes. This is all true.” She didn’t technically know where the data had come from. Mario had been careful never to say it was from his family.

  “Good.” Juanita took a seat beside Sara. “Let’s talk about the reasons you didn’t hand the data over to Agent Keiser.”

  After they’d gone over what she should say about Brent, along with a few other scenarios, the door opened, and a man wearing a gray suit came in. “Hello. I’m Special Agent Stanger. Everyone understands we’re going on record starting now?”

  Her lawyer and the agent exchanged some mumbo-jumbo lawyerly things while Sara sat back and let Juanita do her job. Her mother would only send a top-notch person, so Sara would put herself in Juanita’s hands and hope for the best.

  After an hour of questions, repeated over and over but in slightly different ways, Special Agent Stanger asked one more time about the source of the evidence she’d forwarded again. He wouldn’t let it go. But she honestly didn’t know where it had come from. Exactly.

  Juanita said, “Sara has answered. Let’s move on, please.”

  “Fine. Ms. Chapman, why didn’t you share the evidence with Agent Keiser when you got the email?”

  She glanced at the mirror. Was Brent behind there?

  She turned to Juanita, who nodded her approval to answer the question they’d practiced. “Because when I realized the data Brent asked me to recreate from my memory could hurt my father, I was understandably reluctant to hand it over. Then the email came, and I saw an opportunity to perhaps help my father. Brent had made it clear that my father didn’t deserve my sympathy after what he’d done. That I should put my best interests first.” Sara paused and then added her own thoughts. “Brent will never understand protecting family. Because of his background.”

  “His background?” Stanger’s brows lifted. “You’re familiar with Agent Keiser’s childhood?”

  Juanita said, “She’s answered the question. Next?”

  “Not yet.” Stanger leaned closer to Sara. “Is the reason you didn’t give the data to Agent Keiser because he knew it was obtained illegally, and you’re covering for him? Do you and Brent have a personal relationship, Ms. Chapman?”

  Personal relationship? Covering for Brent?

  It could be tough on Brent’s career if she confessed that they’d slept together. But she was the one who’d pushed for that. And sure, someone awful probably sent the data, but wasn’t something sent anonymously and then handed over to the FBI fair game? The right thing to do?

  But it could look like Brent had told her to send it instead of him. She’d been too focused on saving her dad rather than worrying about how going behind Brent’s back could affect the case.

  Brent told her to tell the truth if asked about their relationship. She turned to Juanita for help.

  Brent watched Sara through the glass. Why hadn’t she listened to him about her father last night? If Stanger thought the data was obtained illegally, they’d have to release all the suspects they’d detained. If she confessed to sleeping with him, Stanger might cast doubt on the evidence. As would the defense in court. He might as well kiss that promotion goodbye. Maybe his job too. His new house might be a long time coming.

  He’d known better than to sleep with Sara. He deserved whatever he got, but Miller’s victims didn’t. They deserved justice. If his lack of judgment stood in their way, he’d never forgive himself.

  He’d told Sara not to lie. It’d be the right thing to do, to tell the truth. But if she did, the whole case could be screwed, along with every aspect of his life.

  He held his breath and waited for her response.

  Sara frowned as she listened to her lawyer whisper in her ear. Then Sara replied to Stanger, “Wasn’t it Brent’s job to form a personal relationship with me? To find out if I was involved in whatever was going on with my account?”

  Stanger only nodded.

  Sara continued, “Well then, he did a good job, because I assumed we were friends when he asked to accompany me to my dad’s wedding after Scott dumped me.”

  Stanger wrote some notes, making Sara sweat, no doubt, before he said, “But you and Brent developed personal feelings for each other after that? Maybe a shared trust while on the road?”

  After her lawyer whispered in her ear again, Sara said, “Trust, yes. But it was a mistake on my part to trust Brent. Believe me, there’s no personal relationship going forward. Because of his lies, I could be dead right now. If he’d confessed his identity earlier, I might have taken different actions after the wedding that night to ensure my safety.”

  Brent released the breath he’d been holding. The expression on her face reflected how much she despised him. Sara could sell a line as well as her parents, thankfully. And she’d kept their secret safe.

  But Sara would never give him the time of day after the case was over. She said she never wanted to talk to him again. However, maybe now they’d lock a whole lot of people up. Including Miller.

  That should make him happy, but what he felt was far from joy. He’d lost the only person who ever made him feel like smiling.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Baker. Probably wanted to give him an ass-chewing for asking for more time when they’d come for Sara. He tapped the screen.

  Get Sara out quickly and quietly. Just got word of a possible breach still in place. I’ll text you a secure location as soon as I have it.

  Brent’s heart stopped. Without knowing where the breach was, there was no way he’d trust anyone else with Sara’s life. What the hell was he going to do? He could be fired for disregarding a direct order. But he’d made Sara a promise in the car.

  He had to protect her. He couldn’t let anything happened to her.

  He had to decide. No time to waste. Dammit!

  What if the breach was Baker? He could be handing her over to her executioner. He’d rather take the hit than risk anything happening to her. He didn’t know who he could trust anymore, so he typed back: Affirmative.

  He had no intention of following orders, though. His career was probably screwed anyway.

  He quickly googled the phone number for Mario’s casino and then tapped it into his phone. When a male receptionist answered, Brent said, “I need to talk to Mr. Giovanni. It’s urgent. Tell him Brent’s calling, please.”

  As he waited, he turned back to the interview. Because Sara refused FBI protection, Stanger agreed to let the lawyer take Sara with her as
soon as the proper paperwork came through. He warned Sara to stay available.

  Was Stanger the leak?

  The man from the casino came back on the line. “I’m sorry, but we can’t seem to locate Mr. Giovanni. May I take a message?”

  This can’t be happening.

  “Please tell him to call me as soon as you find him.” Brent gave him the number and then hung up. While Brent weighed his options, Stanger left to check on Sara’s paperwork.

  This is my chance.

  He quickly opened the door and met Stanger in the hallway. “Hey. I’d like to ask Ms. Chapman about something for my report before you let her go.”

  “Fine.” Stanger nodded to the guard outside, and he opened the door for Brent. “Bring her up front when you’re done, and I’ll sign her out.”

  “Thanks.” Brent closed the door behind him. Sara and her lawyer were whispering about something, so he cleared his throat. “Hi. I’m Agent Keiser. I have just one more question for Sara, please. And then we’ll get you on your way.” He sat in the chair across from Sara.

  Her gaze grew hard. “I thought I made myself clear. I don’t want to speak to you.”

  Her lawyer laid a hand on Sara’s arm and asked, “What’s your question, Agent?”

  “It’s a request, actually. I need Mario Giovanni’s cell number. I’d like to clear up one last issue that’s just come to my attention.” They might still be on the record. He had to be careful what he said. Who knew who was listening?

  He slid his phone in front of Sara as he stared into her eyes, hoping she’d understand his meaning.

  Sara’s narrowed eyes slowly grew wide before she pulled herself back together. She lifted the phone and tapped in a number. “Am I stuck with you until they spring me, Agent Keiser?”

  Was that her way of agreeing to let him help her? He hoped so. “’Fraid so. Let me ask Mario this question, and then I’ll take you up front so that you can leave.” Brent pinned their location in the phone and then texted Mario with the details.