“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, Ms. Bustillo.”
The regional vice president of investments? What the hell were they walking into?
“Victoria, please,” she offered as she badged through another security door and led them down a windowless but brightly lit hallway. “And it is the bank’s pleasure to accommodate you upon request. If you’ll follow me?”
Cooper stepped in closer to Will and let the heat of his presence buffer the adrenaline thrumming through her veins. The more she tried to talk herself down, convince herself that they were fine, and this was normal, the more her body pumped a warning through her blood.
She hated this. Hated being on the ground and in the mix. She was comfortable behind the scope. Deadly at a distance. When she had her rifle and her orders, she could see everything. But up close, as the situation evolved second to second? She was disarmed and blind to everything but what was in front of her.
“Try to relax.” Will bumped her shoulder with his. “This is what I do.”
When she glanced up, the grin he wore bordered on arrogant. On anyone else, it would have grated on her nerves. Smug, male superiority had never done it for her and she’d had her fair share of fun subverting that sense of self-importance. But on Will? Maybe it was the fact that she knew damn well he could back up words with actions, or maybe it was because it was just so damn good to see him embrace a sense of confidence that only a year ago he’d have worn like second skin—either way, that cocky tilt to his lips looked good on him.
Which made her wonder what else she could do to stroke it to life.
Something to explore later.
“Are we far from the bank?” Will asked, acting for all the world as if accessing a hidden box in a foreign country through tunnels that amounted to secret passageways was a normal occurrence. At least the brightly lit hallways didn’t seem to bother him in the way driving into the garage had.
“Top side, yes. We’d be several blocks away,” Victoria explained as she badged through yet another security door. “The long way, if you will. But there are several establishments in the area that require additional security—banks, jewelry stores, that kind of thing—so we make use of the underground parking and service and delivery entrances.” She swiped her badge again, and this time doors slid open and they stepped into a service elevator. “Standing outside the garage entrance, it would be nearly a two kilometer walk to the front of the bank. But through the service doors”—she cast a smile over her shoulder as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open—“five minutes.”
Will and Cooper stepped out onto the high-shine of polished marble floors, but they weren’t in the front lobby. There were no doors or windows facing the street.
The sort of setup, security, and VIP treatment she might have expected in the Caymans or Switzerland. It heightened her nerves . . . and stoked her expectations.
“It’s one of the reasons we hold a contract with Atlantic Insurance & Investments. Their standards are very strict, and we take great pride in meeting each one of them.”
Atlantic Insurance & Investments? Another player. Another question. Another potential problem in a stack that blotted out the sun.
Will cast Cooper a careful look, but she didn’t have any answers to give him. She’d assumed from the start that they’d be dealing with a standard safety deposit box setup. But between the hired car, private entrance, and VIP treatment, Cooper was beginning to understand that what they were walking into was anything but normal.
“This way, please.” She led them to a security desk with two armed guards. “Just a quick thumbprint scan.”
With a glance at Cooper, Will stepped forward and pressed his thumb to the scanner. “How is it you have my fingerprints on file?” he asked as the computer ran his biometrics. “The account was set up in my name, but without my knowledge.”
“A process I’m unfamiliar with, I’m afraid,” Victoria said, though her clipped, rehearsed words told a different story.
It hardly mattered. Just another dead end of missing information and though curious, Cooper couldn’t bring herself to press for more. She didn’t care how Felix had opened and set up the account. Didn’t care what Victoria knew, or didn’t. And didn’t give a shit about another bank—or ten other banks. Cooper gave a damn about one thing and one thing only, and it was sitting in a box on the other side of the vault door.
The computer chimed and one of the security guards rose with a nod. “Arms out,” he instructed as he approached with a wand that looked similar to devices used at airports and special events.
Will lifted his arms as Victoria explained, “We have a strict no-electronics policy. If you have any cell phones or tablets, we’ll store them for you here.”
Will shook his head. “I don’t have one with me.” Security finished the scan and nodded in agreement.
“Will your friend be accompanying you into the vault?” Victoria asked.
“Yes.”
Reluctantly, Cooper pulled her burner phone from her pocket, handed it over, then lifted her arms for the scan.
When security cleared her, Victoria turned toward the heavy steel doors of the vault. “Excellent. We can proceed.” She stepped up to a control panel, then glanced toward security. When the man behind the desk nodded, she tilted her face toward the camera mounted in the far-left corner. A few seconds passed, and the panel came to life. “Victoria Bustillo, regional vice president of investments,” she said, then repeated the same phrase in Spanish. There was a high-pitched beep and she placed her palm against the panel, then leaned closer for a retina scan.
“What kind of regional bank has this level of security?” Will asked quietly as they waited for the authentication to go through. “Dual-language voice recognition, multiple types of biometric screenings, and some sort of additional security that requires remote viewing—it seems extreme,” he whispered. “What the hell is in that box?” he wondered aloud.
“We take our security protocols very seriously,” Victoria said with a practiced smile as bolts disengaged with heavy thunk thunk thunks.
She pulled the door open and led them inside a room that finally met Cooper’s expectations. The space was relatively small, no more than twelve by twelve, with a sturdy stainless-steel table bolted to the center of the floor, a single conference phone sitting on top. The walls were brassy and monochromatic, lined floor to ceiling with numbered boxes in multiple shapes and sizes, but instead of the expected keyholes, each box had a fingerprint scanner.
“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Bennett?” Victoria led him toward the right corner, then knelt to access a small box three rows up from the ground. “I’ll need your thumbprint one more time,” she said, pressing her own thumb to the scanner and waiting for the beep of authentication.
Will followed her actions and the door popped open.
Cooper struggled to breathe. Finally. Finally. Eighteen months, and every single agonizing second had been leading her to this moment. To proof and answers. To freedom and justice.
Victoria removed the box and set it on the table. “I’ll leave you here,” she said. “You may use the bank’s secured line.” She tilted her head toward the conference phone that sat atop the table. “When you’re done, just replace the box. I’ll be waiting at security to escort you back to your car.”
Cooper watched her go, Victoria pulling the vault door shut behind her. The locks didn’t engage, but the questions that had been multiplying like viruses through her mind did. A glance at Will said he was as shocked and overwhelmed as she was.
“What the hell have you stumbled into, Coop?” he asked, running his fingers over the edge of the table as he approached the steel box.
She bristled. “Me? Account’s not in my name, Bennett.” Questions flocked and screeched like drunken birds, but one rose above the rest. “Why would we need a phone?” she wondered aloud.
“I don’t know.” He touched the edge of the box, fingering the hinged lid.
“When you said there was a safety deposit box in my name . . . I don’t know. I guess I pictured something . . . simpler.” He glanced up at her, his face a roil of confusion. “This level of security—did you know to expect this?”
She shook her head, her mouth dry and her palms sweaty. “But maybe I should have. So many people have killed or been killed over those damn trials.”
“But how the hell did a guy like Felix set this up?” Will wondered, his hands clenching into fists and his muscles bunching beneath his shirt. “And what does Atlantic Insurance & Investments have to do with it?”
“I don’t know,” Cooper whispered. “I’ve never heard of them before today.” Every time she got close to answers, questions seemed to multiply, faster and faster, until they were all she could see.
Except, this time was different. This time there were answers. And they were sitting right there, on the table in front of her.
She stepped up next to Will. Ran a finger along the edge of the box’s lid.
As if he knew how long she’d waited, how hard she’d worked, how much she’d suffered, and all to get here, Will dropped a heavy palm against her shoulder, slid it along the back of her neck, and squeezed her opposite shoulder.
“Go ahead, Coop.”
On a deep breath and a silent prayer, Cooper opened the box.
Chapter Fifteen
Hope died a bitter death, and betrayal, like a sharp knife she should have seen coming, slipped between her ribs and took aim for her heart.
Cooper choked back the bitter tang of disappointment, both with herself, for being stupid enough to get her hopes up in the first place, and with the contents of the box.
She shoved away from the table on a curse, her eyes stinging, her fingernails biting into her palms.
“Cooper.” Will reached for her, but she walked away, putting the table between them.
She didn’t want him to touch her, soothe her, comfort her. It would be a lie, and temporary at best. And for once, because she was safe behind thick walls and steel doors, she wanted to indulge in the weakness of emotions she’d been beating back for months.
Disappointment. Exhaustion. Frustration.
And most of all the rising tide of faithlessness that threatened to drown her. How much longer could she do this? How many more questions would she have to find before she finally faced the reality that maybe there weren’t answers. Not for her. And not for Cole.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispered, the truth bland and boring and tasteless. Lies were sweeter, though they carried the tang of something manufactured and processed and false. God knew she’d grown accustomed to the flavor with every single one she’d told.
It’s not my fault.
No cost is too high.
I can save him.
“You can. You will. People like us?” Will said, his words firm and solid, comforting in their inability to yield or soften or compromise. “We don’t know how to quit. Even when we should. Even when it’s easier.”
She’d retreated so he couldn’t reach her. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t calm or comfort her.
She should have known better.
His voice stroked over her with the determination and strength of a steady palm down her back. She couldn’t ignore it. Or what came next. Because he was right. She couldn’t quit.
Even when she wanted to.
Cooper turned and came back to the box, eyeing the contents with disdain.
“I’m so fucking sick of surprises.”
Will cut a grin in half when she glared at him. “Fair enough. But let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
He pulled the two items out of the box—a large coin and a matte white business card with a phone number embossed in black across the front.
“Guess that’s why we need the phone,” he said, turning the card over in his palm.
“And the coin? What is it, anyway? A silver dollar?”
“Nope.” He flicked it off his thumb, let it turn end over end, then tossed it over.
Heavy, and thicker than an average coin, it was silver with a gold halo surrounding the center with script along the rim.
Limited Edition Ten Dollar Gaming Token Bellagio
“Las Vegas? Seriously?” Cooper asked, turning the coin over in her palm and inspecting the details for anything that might explain why the hell it should matter to her. “I thought they stopped using coins twenty years ago?”
“They did,” Will agreed, taking it back and running his thumb along the edge in a gesture that was distinctly familiar. “This was Felix’s lucky charm—we used to trade it back and forth a lot.”
“Why?”
“He won it in a drunken game of poker—he was too wasted to realize it wasn’t actually worth anything.” A memory stretched Will’s mouth in a sad smile. “Called it his favorite challenge coin.”
Cooper rolled her eyes. “Last I checked, challenge coins were reserved for special accomplishments or military readiness.”
“As far as Felix was concerned, sneaking back onto base drunk off his ass and naked from the waist down was the definition of military readiness.” Will spun the coin on the surface of the desk, then slapped it flat with a thunk. “He’d issue challenges—usually stupid, sometimes dangerous—but complete it, and you got possession of the coin and the right to issue the next challenge. We passed that thing back and forth like weed at a frat party.”
At a bar and over a beer, Cooper would have pumped Will for the stories that were so clearly attached to that coin. Memories that sketched his face with humor and regret and shadows of the man he used to be. But that was an indulgence for another day.
“Why would Felix leave it for you?”
“I don’t know,” Will said, “but I’ve got a feeling whoever’s on the other end of that phone number does.”
He came to the other side of the desk and set the business card next to the phone. “Ready to do this?”
Like there was a choice. “Yeah.”
Will hit the button for speakerphone, waited for the dial tone, then keyed in the number on the card. The phone rang twice.
“Mr. Bennett.” A deep, accent-less American voice, the sort high-end news personalities spent years perfecting, resonated over the line. “I’ve been expecting your call.”
“Who is this?” Will asked, his fingers curling against the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.
“I’m an account manager with Atlantic Insurance & Investments.”
Cooper clenched her teeth against a curse. Goddamn it, couldn’t anything be simple?
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“And is irrelevant, as that’s not the question you’ve called to ask.”
“Wait just a second—” Will started, anger bunching his shoulders and leaking through his voice.
“You’re wasting time, Mr. Bennett.” The words were clipped and impatient, as if the speaker had far better things to do with his time. “Listen carefully, and I’ll walk you through the authentication sequence, and deliver the information Mr. Harrigan entrusted to our care.”
“But I—”
“Please describe the item Mr. Harrigan deposited for you.”
“The coin?” Will asked, his confusion matching Cooper’s own.
“Yes, Mr. Bennett, the coin.”
Will sighed and shot the phone a look that said he had some choice words for the person on the other end. “It’s a ten-dollar Bellagio chip. Silver at the center, gold rim.”
“Anything else?”
“It’s got the initials F.H. carved onto the face.”
“Thank you. Now if you’ll please describe the circumstances that led to the last time the coin was in your possession—”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Will snapped, banging his fist against the table.
“Nor do you need to, Mr. Bennett. Your only concern is providing the key. I turn the lock,” the man said, and though his voice was smooth and
without inflection, condescension dripped from each syllable as if smug superiority, rather than English, were the speaker’s native tongue.
“I really hate this guy,” Cooper mumbled.
“Also an irrelevant detail, Miss Reed.”
So they knew Will wasn’t alone and who was with him. Cooper didn’t have the energy to claim surprise on either count.
On a sigh, Will said, “Two years ago, on leave in New York City. Felix challenged me to the three-pound, thirty-minute pancake problem. I won.”
“Please hold for authentication.”
The line breathed with the sort of pregnant silence that lingered, thick and heavy, until something else replaced it.
“Three pounds of pancakes?” Cooper asked, her stomach rumbling. “Sounds like a great way to ruin a good breakfast.”
Will lifted a shoulder. “I won. Got the t-shirt and the free breakfast to prove it.”
He looked proud, but she studied his face for the tell that had to be there. No one downed three pounds of pancakes in thirty minutes without repercussions. “And at what cost?”
“A brutal betrayal, a nasty divorce, and a monogamous relationship with the always loyal waffle.”
“Gross.”
“You’ve no idea. I nearly got ticketed in Central Park for public intoxication at ten a.m.” He grinned. “Thank God I had the t-shirt to explain things.”
Before she could reply, the voice came back on the line.
“Thank you for holding—”
“Like you gave us a choice,” Cooper grumbled, but was neatly ignored.
“Listen very carefully, Mr. Bennett, because I’m going to give you coordinates, you’re going to repeat them back to me, and then I’m going to hang up.”
“Wait—”
“The business card will be confiscated, this line will be permanently disconnected, and you will be escorted back to your car. We will not speak again.”
“I don’t understand—”
“It’s really quite simple. Your identity has been confirmed, your key authenticated. I’m going to pass on the information we’ve held for you, and this conversation will be over. Now, the numbers—”
Fearless (Somerton Security Book 3) Page 16