Trust by Design

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “Yes, and Officer Mueller.” She indicated the stocky blond man who’d dusted for prints, but her attention didn’t shift from Gina.

  “Are you here about the break-in at my office?”

  “Actually, we need to speak to Mr. Daley,” Officer Mueller said.

  Gina looked up at the man next to her and didn’t like the grim expression on his face one bit. “What’s going on?”

  “Maybe it’s better if we—”

  The female cop quickly spoke over her partner. “We’re following up on a complaint of assault.”

  She stepped back and gaped at Dean. “You called them about the other night?”

  His expression darkened even more.

  “Ms. Allen, the complaint is against, Mr. Daley,” the woman informed her.

  That’s right, he hadn’t been happy to see them. But now she was thoroughly confused. Before she could ask any more questions, he asked one of his own. “Am I under arrest?”

  “No.”

  “Do I need to call my lawyer?”

  “We’re just here to ask you a few questions. If you want a lawyer present, you can have them meet us down at the precinct. Your call.”

  The cold authority in the woman’s voice sent a shiver of dread down Gina’s spine.

  Dean only hesitated an extra moment before swinging the door open. “You might as well come in because I’m pretty sure I’m going to need some coffee for this.”

  He didn’t wait for their agreement, just stalked back toward the kitchen. Officer Mueller extended a hand for Gina to follow, so she led the way after they’d shut the door. Once she took a seat in the chair at the island counter, the cops each took up a position on opposite ends.

  It was strange, but she felt like they were making sure she was protected. In fact, in the brighter light of the kitchen, she had the uncomfortable feeling the woman’s sharp gaze was focused on the multitude of colors still gracing her face.

  Resisting the urge to touch the shiner, she repeated, “Can someone please explain what’s going on?”

  Who would Dean have—

  The realization hit like a tornado, swirling her up in a maelstrom of dread, anger, disbelief, and amazement. Oh, no. When he turned around from the coffee maker, his gaze locked with hers. She swallowed hard at the guarded look in his eyes, then couldn’t help but drop her gaze to his right hand.

  His bruised right hand.

  “You went to see Jackson, didn’t you?”

  He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes answered the question.

  She wasn’t generally a violent person. Hated gory movies and sports where people got beat up. But the thought of him tracking Jackson down to give him a little payback hit her in the most unexpected, elemental way. Staring into his defiant brown eyes, she knew if anyone ever asked her when she fell in love with Dean Daley, it would be this moment.

  “We have Mr. Brady’s home security footage,” Officer Nilsen informed him. “My partner spotted your name on the complaint, and with you listed as a witness in Ms. Allen’s case, we figured it didn’t hurt to come check it out. Right now is your chance to tell us your side of the story.”

  Dean’s gaze shifted to a point on the wall behind them all. “If you have it on tape, what else is there to say?”

  “There’s a lot to say,” Gina protested. His eyes met hers again.

  “It’s not my place,” he argued quietly.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Officer Nilsen spoke up. “Mr. Brady’s statement alleges you attacked him because you’re resentful that his business is doing better than yours.”

  Dean gave a short bark of laughter.

  Outrage stiffened Gina’s whole damn body and she turned to the female officer. “You noticed my face, I know you did.” She pulled up the sleeve on one arm of her shirt, then the other, revealing the black and blue handprints marking her skin. “See these? All of it was done by my ex-boyfriend, Jackson Brady.”

  Her blue eyes flicked toward Dean, then back to Gina. “Did you file a report?”

  Her stomach dropped like a lead balloon as she shook her head. “There were no witnesses, it would’ve been my word against his.”

  “And what makes you think we’d have taken his word over yours?”

  She gave a small shrug, anger depleted as fast as it’d come. “I don’t know.”

  Truthfully, she’d worried that having dated him for two years would destroy any chance of them believing her. He would have no problem claiming she was out for revenge if it would throw suspicion off himself. But thinking the reasons and admitting them out loud were two different things.

  Officer Nilsen motioned with her head toward the other room. “Can you and I talk in private?”

  Gina slid off the chair. She cast a glance at Dean, but he could’ve been made of stone for all the emotion he showed. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t defending himself.

  In the other room, the policewoman led her out of earshot, then asked in a low voice, “Is there anything you want to tell me that you were afraid to say in front of him? Because you don’t have to stay here. We can protect you.”

  Him, meaning Dean.

  She started to say no, then glanced back toward the kitchen. The police presence made her realize she should’ve reported Jackson’s attack right away. Now Dean was in the middle, and she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Talking just as low, she explained to Officer Nilsen exactly what happened Friday night, including the part where Jackson had tried to force himself on her.

  “I swear, Dean did not do this.” Making sure to hold the woman’s gaze without wavering, she stressed he was not the one who’d hurt her. “Him going to see Jackson was his way of defending me.”

  Nilsen jotted some notes before they returned to the kitchen. Officer Mueller sipped from a mug of coffee, but Dean’s cup sat untouched beside him. Gina went to stand at the counter with him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm. She felt his muscles tense, but he didn’t move away and she was thankful for the comforting warmth of his skin against hers.

  The two officers conferred a moment, then the blond man took a big gulp of coffee before setting his mug down. “I believe we’re done here for now.”

  Dean pushed away from the counter to see them out. Mueller was still talking, so she trailed after them to hear what he said.

  “Off the record, my partner and I both agree it seems Brady got what he deserved. We watched the tape, and anyone can see he clearly provoked you. We have to file an unbiased report for the district attorney to review, but I’d say it’s unlikely she’ll be interested in prosecuting this case. That’s not a guarantee, though, so you’ll still want to contact your lawyer, just in case.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “Last word of caution?” Mueller handed over a card at the door. “Stay away from the guy. But if you do have any more issues, call us instead of taking matters into your own hands.”

  Dean slipped the card into his back pocket as they left. When he turned around and saw Gina standing in the kitchen entrance, he came to an abrupt halt.

  “Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

  That got him moving again. Right past her to get his cup of coffee. The air came alive around her when he brushed by. When she followed and pushed for an answer, he slammed the mug onto the counter so hard she was surprised it didn’t shatter.

  “Because I don’t know what he all did, okay?”

  That was the last retort she’d expected.

  He braced his palms on the counter and continued in that low voice so full of tortured emotion it made her heart ache.

  “You were pretty evasive the other night, and certain you didn’t want to call the police. Without knowing the whole story, I wasn’t going to force a decision like that on you just to make myself look better.”

  His refusal to use her to help himself was the exact opposite of what Jackson would’ve done. She swallowed hard
and dropped her gaze from his. It made no sense to feel ashamed when she knew she was in no way at fault, yet she found she couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “He tried,” she finally admitted. From beneath her lashes, she saw his fingers clench. “I kneed him, he hit me, and that’s when the neighbor came out. And I told everything to Officer Nilsen just now.”

  White appeared on his knuckles. “I suspected it was something like that, but he’s damn lucky I didn’t know for sure when I went over there.”

  That protective, almost possessive statement brought her head up again. But man, she had to be careful or all her emotions would be written all over her face. “Then you know exactly why I want to help you.”

  He gave a tired sigh as he straightened and turned to refill his mug. “I’m not having this conversation with you again.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I already told you it’s not a good idea, and I don’t feel like repeating myself.”

  “Give me one good reason why and I’ll shut up.”

  “It’s not safe,” he ground out. “You should already know that without me spelling it out for you.” Coffee in hand, he moved around the counter and headed toward his office.

  She followed. “But I’ll be working with you.”

  “Damn it all, Gina, let it go already.” He whirled around so fast coffee sloshed over the edge of his mug onto his hand. He flicked his gaze down as it dripped onto the hardwood floor, then turned his glower on her. “It’s my business, not yours, and I’ve made up my mind. The answer is no. End. Of. Discussion.”

  He stepped back and slammed his office door in her face. She flinched at the force of the sound, then stared at the door in mute shock. Auto-pilot carried her over for a rag to wipe up his spill, then hurt and anger propelled her back out to her car.

  Chapter 18

  He was a first class prick. Yelling at her after everything that’d happened, and she only wanted to help. But in the time it took for Dean’s guilty conscience to prod him into going out to apologize, she’d left.

  He didn’t blame her, and yet he wasn’t ready to change his mind. If she got hurt by helping him, he’d never forgive himself.

  His call to her cell phone went to voicemail, and his I’m sorry text received no reply. And then, after his efforts, he was relieved enough that he ruled out going after her. Seeing her when his head was all screwed up was just way too dangerous on too many levels.

  Instead, he got in an extra long workout to burn off some steam. After talking to his stepfather to fill him in about the visit from the police, he worked late into the night again. All the while, he wondered if she’d even show up in the morning. Part of him hoped not, the other part thought she damn well better if she wanted to get paid.

  See? He was a frickin’ mess.

  * * *

  Monday morning, Dean rolled over in bed with a low groan as the little green 2 on his alarm clock became a 3. Then all the numbers registered on his sleep-fogged brain.

  10:33.

  He dropped his head face-first into his pillow. Sonofabitch.

  Which made him instantly think of Gina’s disapproving, “You say that a lot.”

  He thought it again on his way to the bathroom, then tossed in a few more curses for good measure. He hadn’t shaved in two days, but he wasn’t going anywhere, and he’d overslept his alarm by almost three hours, so who the hell cared? A swipe of his hand over the lengthening stubble made him think twice, but in the end, he showered, pulled on his jeans and T-shirt, and followed the very faint aroma of coffee down the stairs that led from the master suite to his office.

  His step slowed at the sight of the two people sitting at the conference table. Gina wore her hair loose today, and reached to tuck an auburn strand behind her ear while leaning closer to the man sitting beside her. A tendril of jealousy snaked through him just as his vice president caught his descent from the corner of his eye.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.”

  Dean directed his simmering irritation at his friend. “Shut up.”

  “What?” Mike asked with an annoying laugh. “We’ve already established you’re not Prince Charming.”

  This time, he just shot him the shut-up look as he arrived at the table. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “Gina said you were grumpy yesterday and needed your sleep.” The man had the nerve to turn and grin at her. “I thought it would help more.”

  “Me, too,” she agreed.

  He bounced his glare from one to the other. “What in the hell is going on?”

  His VP straightened in his chair and took a deep breath. For the first time, he looked somewhat serious. “Gina’s going to help us.”

  Dean’s gaze landed back on her and stayed. Arms folded on the table, she lifted her chin while those gorgeous eyes defied him to deny her now. No problem. “The hell she is.”

  “I told you,” she said to Mike.

  “Now, Dean, just hear us out. She actually has a good idea.”

  He stalked into the kitchen, needing the distance to get his temper under control. Caffeine would be good, too. He dumped some extra sugar in his cup, and while he stirred, he realized he was relieved she’d shown up. Wasn’t too happy about her going behind his back to Mike, but she was here, and she wasn’t giving him the cold shoulder he expected and deserved.

  Then again, she wasn’t giving it to Mike, either. He frowned down at his mug.

  “Dean?”

  Her soft voice stiffened his spine. He turned around and couldn’t help but take in all of her in those form-fitting jeans and a light, breezy top with flowing sleeves that covered the marks on her upper arms while making her appear delicate and feminine. She was both, but looked even more so this morning.

  She stood beside the island, one hand resting flat on the lower counter, and the other raised as if to hold him back even though she was more than ten endless feet away.

  “Before you say no again, all I’m asking is that you listen to me. Please?”

  He’d like to say it was the please that did him in, but it might have had something to do with the soft, persuasive tone of her voice that had him willing to hear more. He drew in a breath, then another. Finally, he gave a curt nod.

  Surprise flickered in her eyes, but then she lowered her arm and got busy explaining in earnest. “Well, they’re just ideas, really, so how would Jackson even know I’m involved? I was thinking that you could create a second version of your current project. A dummy copy that needs kinks worked out, or maybe I could help by adding an invisible code to prove it’s yours. A watermark of sorts that only we know about. Something he won’t spot, and then we make sure that he gets that copy, and you’ve got your evidence for a case.”

  He shifted his gaze as Mike joined them to lean his elbows on the island counter while she kept talking. His friend’s face didn’t hold a tenth of the appeal of Gina’s, so he returned his full attention to her.

  “Or, if you want to go another route, you could hold a meeting and announce the project is compromised, or that it isn’t working, so you’re going to start brand new. We can brainstorm for a new idea to use as a decoy that will send Jackson chasing his tail trying to scoop you on it while you finish work on the real deal.”

  He lifted his mug to sip his coffee. Both ideas had enough merit to make him feel like an idiot. He and Mike had been so tunnel-visioned on preventing Brady from stealing the current program, they hadn’t taken time to come up with a scenario to trap him.

  When he remained silent, her eyebrows rose. “So? What do you think?”

  “How about you go do the work I’m actually paying you for while Mike and I talk about this.”

  It was an asshole response, but all she did was cast a hopeful glance at Mike while backing up. “Sure. I’ve got some things to do in the suite at the end of the hall.”

  He waited until she was out of sight before turning his furious gaze back to his vice president. “I didn’t want h
er involved.”

  “She came to me,” he defended.

  Noise from the back door by the garage made him lean back to see Liz shouldering the door closed, her arms full of grocery bags. He met her in the hall to grab a couple, and set them on the counter.

  “Thanks.” She cast him a sideways glance. “We missed you on Saturday night.”

  “Other things came up,” Mike quipped.

  Dean gave him another shut-up look.

  Liz shifted her blue gaze from him to her brother. “Morning, Michael.”

  “Hey, sis.” He immediately turned back to Dean. “Listen, this thing with Gina is perfect. We can work this to our advantage, and as long as we know their end game, we’ll come out ahead, not them.”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Jack and Gina. This whole elaborate set-up they’re obviously working on.” Dark eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Whoa. You don’t honestly buy her ‘I want to help,’ act, do you?”

  “Sure seemed like you did.”

  “I’m playing along man, that’s all.”

  Dean’s ire rose again at the thought of Mike playing her for a fool. “You did notice her face, right?”

  “Yeah? So? She said she walked into a cupboard door.”

  Of course she did. He leaned forward for a glance in the direction she’d disappeared, but this time it was different than with the police. “Jack did that,” he said in a low voice. “Friday night. He showed up at her apartment and knocked her around enough to scare her into coming over here to offer to help me.”

  As his friend absorbed that bit of news, Liz turned, her arm half inside the bag of groceries she was unpacking. “He hit her?”

  “Yes,” Dean confirmed. He sliced his gaze back to Mike. “And I believe her. Not only because she said that’s what happened, but because he as much as confirmed it when he and I had a little chat on Saturday morning.”

  “At his house?” This from Liz again, her voice an octave higher. Her brother looked just as surprised as she added, “I thought you guys were going to lay low and let him come to you?”

  “We were,” Mike stated, a note of accusation in his tone.