by Katie Knight
Oh boy. Yeah, she was in trouble here.
Get it together. Now.
Thankfully, the MC for the event called everyone to order and the ceremony began with a speech from the Dallas mayor. This was followed in short order by them calling Drake up to the stage to give a brief word to the crowd. She’d warned him earlier that might happen and prayed he didn’t freeze up when speaking in public. He always seemed confident, but you never knew what people did when the spotlight turned on them.
Drake gave her a quick wink, then headed for the stage, smiling and shaking hands with various people along the way as if he’d been born to do this, which she supposed he probably had. Yes, he'd left this life behind—but he’d still grown up with it, just as Devon had. Seeing him handle the crowd and the dignitaries on stage made her womb give a traitorous quiver. If she weren’t pregnant already, Lake was pretty sure his gorgeous, gracious smile from behind that podium would’ve done the trick.
Dammit. Mind in the game, girlfriend. Eyes above the belt.
She shook off the unwanted thoughts of pinning Drake to the wall and ravishing him silly. What the hell was wrong with her? Fling with Devon aside, she didn’t sleep with men casually. Honestly, she didn’t sleep with anyone much at all. Up until the affair with Devon, she’d only had one serious boyfriend back when she’d been in college, and that had ended when they’d gone their separate ways after graduation. Since then she’d been too busy building her career to worry much about relationships. In fact, the only reason she’d even started up an affair with Devon was because they were constantly thrown together during events for the organizations sponsored by the Shepperton Foundation, and she’d been bowled over by his determined charm and wicked grin.
Speaking of wicked grins, Drake was beaming down at her from the stage and damn if her blood didn’t spark with awareness. His deep voice held her captive as it did everyone else in the crowd, apparently, given that all of them were hanging on his every word. Man, if there was such a thing as star-power, Drake Shepperton had it, whether he knew it or wanted it or not. If he was this good behind a mic, she couldn’t imagine how amazing he must be on the battlefield, commanding his SEAL team and achieving one top-secret objective after another.
Drake spoke with surprising insight about the new children’s wing and the donors who’d made it possible. Lake was impressed. She’d been worried whether he’d had time to go over the brief she’d given him earlier, what with all the things he was trying to sort out at the company after Devon’s death, but from his speech, Drake had not only read the brief, he’d memorized it. Even more astonishing, he was relaying the information back now in a friendly, approachable, easygoing manner, not sounding robotic at all, and never doing more than glancing at his notecards. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d been part of the company all along, and not off in some far-off location, estranged from the business and his family.
“And in conclusion, I need to give thanks. First to everyone here for all of your condolences and well-wishes regarding my brother Devon’s unexpected passing,” Drake said, just the right touch of grief and sincerity in his tone. “Your support during this difficult time means more than I can say and I appreciate everyone who’s taken the time to say something to me. I won’t forget it.” He scanned the crowd before meeting Lake’s gaze again. “Finally, I’d like to thank the woman without whose efforts and dedication this ceremony would not have been possible. Let’s give a round of applause to the fabulous Executive Director of the Shepperton Foundation, Ms. Lake Bailey.”
Heat prickled her cheeks and she smiled, giving nods and thanks to the crowd cheering for her. It was nice. And again, very different from what she was used to with Devon. While he paid her handsomely for her work, he’d never once, as far as Lake could remember anyway, thanked her publicly for her contributions. Devon always preferred to keep the spotlight on himself.
After Drake and the mayor, along with the hospital’s board of directors, stood for yet more pictures, he finally returned to her side. For the first time since his arrival, his broad shoulders hunched slightly and there were lines of tension near the corners of his mouth.
“How long do we have to stay here?” Drake asked her under his breath.
She finished her small glass of punch and set it aside. “We can leave now, if you need to.”
“Good.” He reached down and took her hand before heading toward the exit. “Let’s go.”
They said their goodbyes to the crowd as they went, then headed outside to the parking lot.
“Is your car here?” Drake asked, squinting in the sunlight. “I had the company driver bring me over. No sense bothering the guy to pick me up if we can ride back to the condo together.”
“Uh, yes.” She fished her keys out of her bag and started toward a row of vehicles to the right. “Over here.”
But Lake no more than reached the front of the car when she stopped short. Based on the lopsided slant to the burgundy SUV, something was very wrong.
“What is it?” Drake said, coming up next to her then cursing under his breath as he took in the sight. “Someone slashed the tires. Call the police.”
Crap. There was a slight possibility this was coincidence, she supposed, but a glance around showed her that hers was the only vehicle that had been touched. Did that make this a targeted attack? Her pulse sped at the thought. Was this related to what had happened at her apartment? Did it have to do with the information she’d found out about the foundation funds or was she being paranoid? Hard to tell anymore. She pulled out her phone instinctively to call the police, then halted. “No. It won’t do any good.”
“It might.” He scowled down at the shredded rubber treads. “And you’ll have a report on file as proof for next time. The paper trail of intent has to start somewhere.”
“Seems pointless.” She sighed. “I mean, they gathered evidence from the break-ins, but they weren’t able to find any good leads, so they had to let the investigations drop. And when I tried to say that the crimes showed a pattern of behavior that meant that I was in danger, they argued that they couldn’t offer any protection because there was no credible threat of violence against me. Why would a couple of flat tires change anything? They’ll just say it was a prank or random vandalism.”
“Maybe.” He pulled out his own phone to snap pictures of the damage. “But I still think it’s a good idea to play this by the book. Anyway, your insurance company might require you to make a police report. Make the call, Lake.”
She sighed and did as he asked, then waited twenty minutes until a squad car arrived to take her statement. Sure enough, the officers looked openly skeptical at her suggestion that this was tied to the break-ins or a direct threat to her. They mentioned several other reports of kids vandalizing cars in the area. It was summer, after all, and teenagers got bored, they said. No, they didn’t think it was strange that only her vehicle was attacked. They gave her a police report number and called a tow truck for her, then left again, leaving her and Drake standing around to find their own way back to the condo. The only blessing was that the sun was setting, easing off some of the heat of the day.
By the time they used a car service to get home, Lake was hot and tired and more than just a bit cranky.
“C’mon and get changed,” he said, slipping off his suit jacket and loosening his tie, making him look far more attractive than a man had a right to be. “I’ll make you some tea and then we’ll pull up the police report.”
Lake bristled a little at him taking charge and telling her what to do—but the truth was, her feet hurt, and her ankles were swollen, and she had to pee. Again. She wasn’t even that far along and already her body was betraying her. Using the bathroom, getting changed, and having some tea sounded like a pretty great idea right now, even if he was the one who’d said it first. Frowning, she toed off her pumps, then headed down the hall to the guest room where she was staying. For some reason, having her tires slashed was just the last straw
today. How the hell was she supposed to get to work now? She supposed her insurance company would arrange for her to have a loaner until her car was fixed, but she could already foresee the miserable hour she’d have to spend on hold with the insurance company before that could be sorted out.
Ugh. Tears stung the backs of her eyes before she blinked them away. Must be the pregnancy hormones again. She wasn’t normally such a wimp. She was a survivor, dammit. She didn’t give up or give in just because one little thing went wrong. If there was any advantage at all to growing up with thieves for parents it was that you learned to be adaptable. Staying on your toes all the time, always ready to run at the first sign of trouble, meant you had to think on your feet.
But working at Shepperton Foundation had given her roots at last, and she hated being forced to resort to tricks from her old life again. Especially since the danger this time didn’t come from her being in the wrong, but from her trying to do the right thing where the donations were concerned. And yes, tire damage was small potatoes considering what might have happened to her or her property, but it was still an attack. It was still meant to make her afraid, to restrict her freedom. And for a gal whose parents were in prison, serving long sentences, freedom was a rare and precious thing, never to be taken lightly or lost.
After a quick trip to the bathroom to use the toilet and wash off her makeup, she shed her dress and slipped on a comfy pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, then slouched back out to where Drake was sitting on the sofa in the living room, a tray with two mugs of tea and a plate of cookies on the coffee table in front of him. The scent of herbs and peppermint tickled her nose as she snuggled into one corner of the sofa, a warm mug clutched in her hands. She was acting like a grump, and hormones or not, there was no excuse for it. Not when he was being so kind to her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He picked up his own mug, then placed the plate of cookies between them. “Help yourself. You look a bit pale. I’m guessing your blood sugar’s low. You’ll feel better if you eat something.”
Lake grabbed an iced gingerbread man from the plate and nibbled on his head. “These are good. Where’d they come from?”
“One of the gifts sent over after Devon’s funeral,” he said, devouring one of the cookies in three bites. “We need to eat them up before they go stale.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” She grabbed another cookie and chuckled. “These are yummy.”
“They are good, right?” He finished off another cookie, then sipped his tea, watching her over the rim. She had no idea where he put all the food, since there wasn’t a spare ounce of fat on him that she could see. Just miles of legs and muscle and sinew and…
Whoops.
“If you’re worried about your car insurance going up after this, don’t. This happened on company time, at a company-sponsored event. I’ll make sure the car repair shop sends the bill directly to accounts payable,” he said after a moment.
“I’m more worried about how I’ll get to and from work until I get my SUV back.” Lake brushed away a few crumbs from the front of her shirt, then sat back into the corner of the sofa again. “My insurance company will probably get me a loaner, but it might take some time to get it all organized. It’s a real pain.”
“I’ve got you covered there too.” Drake smiled. “No reason why we can’t ride to and from work together, right?”
“Are you sure?” She scrunched her nose at him. “I don’t want to get in your way or anything. And I know Devon’s schedule could be quite unpredictable.”
“I’m not Devon,” Drake reminded her again, a shadow of something flickering through his dark eyes, there and gone so fast she didn’t catch it. “Please? I insist. Plus, it will help me protect you until we catch whoever’s doing these things.”
Lake took a deep breath and hesitated. She wasn’t used to accepting help from others. She’d been on her own so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to have support—and a part of her was wary of trusting it. But Drake had been nothing but helpful since she’d shown up on his doorstep, whether he wanted to be or not. There was also the fact that he was right. Whoever was behind the break-ins and now her slashed tires was still out there, watching her, waiting. A chill went through her and she finally gave in to her urge and placed her hand over her abdomen. Funny, but for the first time since all this mess started, she felt safe. Because of Drake.
“Okay,” she said at last. “We can ride together. But I will pay you back for all this. I promise.”
Six
The next morning, Drake was back in the offices of Shepperton, Inc., wading through yet another stack of paperwork and trying to make sense of it all. One of the reasons he’d joined the Navy, other than to get away from his family, was the fact he didn’t want to be stuck in some cubicle somewhere, shuffling files for a living. The fact that he was stuck here now made him both restless and resentful.
He’d just finished going over yet another marketing report when the phone on his desk buzzed. He jabbed the flashing red button and picked up the receiver. “Drake Shepperton.”
“Mr. Shepperton, this is Jameson Peterkin. Those financial reports you requested are ready. I’ve sent them to your secure email address.”
Great. More numbers. Well, at least these would hopefully shed some light on what the hell his brother had been up to here before his accident. He loosened his tie, hating the damned thing. Felt more like a noose than neckwear. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr. Shepperton.”
“Drake.”
“Drake,” Jameson corrected, then cleared his throat. “And please let me know if you need anything else from my department.”
After the call ended, Drake pulled up the reports, running a quick query for the red flags Lake had brought up, especially the donations for the Romanian orphanage. Sure enough, Devon had always been the person signing off on those transactions and approving them personally. The contrast was stark, considering that he seemed almost entirely hands-off in most of the foundation’s activities, aside from a cluster of donations—both incoming and outgoing—that had his fingerprints all over them from start to finish. Dammit. Drake sighed and sat back in his seat, rubbing his fingers across his mouth. Devon either knew what was going on or he was a gullible idiot.
He snorted. No. His brother was about as cunning as a fox when it came to business. No way did he not know about the dirty money being cleaned through the charity. The only question was, whose money was being laundered?
A couple more clicks through the reports showed no other interests, financial or otherwise, tied to Devon outside of Shepperton, Inc., so it had to be an outside entity. But that didn’t make sense. Why would his brother put the family’s considerable interests at risk to clean up someone else’s mess? It couldn’t have been for the cash. At the time of his death, Devon had been worth billions, as was the company.
One more mystery to solve. One more time suck Drake didn’t need.
Grumbling, he sat forward again and did another query, this time for all disbursement transactions approved by Lake. This time he sorted them by highest to lowest amounts. The biggest donations were in the ten-thousand-dollar range—markedly less than the transactions his brother had green-lighted. In the past two quarters, there had been seventeen of them, all for specific causes—some of them actually for organizations the foundation had been supporting for a number of years, since long before Lake joined the foundation. The rest of the monies spent were spent on general overhead. He opened up another window and did a quick Internet search for the recipient names and found they all checked out. Relieved, he released his pent-up breath. Not that he’d really suspected her of wrongdoing, but given the topsy-turvy situation they were currently in, it was nice to be able to rule that possibility out unequivocally.
He spent the rest of the day going over the rest of the reports Jameson had sent over, then finally stopped around five-thirty. Neck stiff and shoulders knotted, he s
tood and stretched, removing his stupid tie completely and tossing it down on the desk. Familiar pain shot up the side of his neck and he winced, rubbing the sore area. He needed to take a muscle relaxer when he got back to the condo. Staring at the mounds of paperwork still left for him to go through, he gave a resigned sigh. There wasn’t much more he could do by himself. He needed Lake to look at this information too and confirm for him who was and wasn’t authorized to sign off on the foundation’s grants.
By the time he stopped to pick up Lake from her office and ran a few errands, it was well after six by the time they got home. Lake set her bag on the sofa, then excused herself to shower and change while Drake shed his business attire for jeans and a sweatshirt before starting some dinner for them in the kitchen—roasted chicken and veggies, along with a salad and some store-bought rolls. The cooking helped him decompress after the stress of the day, though his neck and upper back were still bothering him. He set out one of his pain pills on the counter to take before bedtime. They made him sleepy and he wasn’t ready to zone out yet for the night.
Half an hour later, Lake emerged down the hall, her damp hair slicked back away from her face and a fluffy pink robe tied tight around her over her white and blue pajamas. White socks on her feet completed the look. A far cry from the polished professional he’d picked up from the office earlier. Not that he minded. Honestly, she looked adorable no matter what she wore. Dressed to the nines and styled to perfection. Funny, but when he’d first met her and learned that she’d had an affair with his brother, he’d imagined she was just another one of his brother’s socialite bimbos. But now, having spent time with Lake, he knew that wasn’t the case. Her clothes were well made, yes, but also practical and professional. Not worn just for fashion, but also for function.
At his curious look, she shrugged. “Sorry, but I wanted to be comfortable. Long day.”
“No problem.” He smiled, then turned back to the oven to check the chicken while she moved in beside him to get a glass of water from the sink. Drake hazarded a side glance at her and noticed the multiple piercings in her right ear again. A rainbow of colors sparkled back at him—diamond, emerald, sapphire, ruby, and topaz. Then she turned and he was surprised to find only one earring in her left earlobe, a pink-hued gem her couldn’t identify. Curiosity got the better of him and he couldn’t help asking, “Tell me about those.”