by Katie Knight
“Huh.” She scanned the page, noting that it listed five of the foundation’s most generous donors. “You think all of these were involved in the operation?”
“Not sure yet, but from what Jameson told me, it seems likely.” Drake slumped down in one of the chairs in front of her desk, the faint lines at the corners of his dark eyes and around his lips more pronounced today. There were dark circles beneath his eyes too. She wondered if he’d slept as badly as she had the night before but didn’t dare ask. There was enough tension around them as it was. No sense adding more to the pile. He rubbed his jaw and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Even knowing he wanted nothing more to do with her sexually didn’t stop the rush of lust searing through her at the sight of him in his perfectly tailored suit. Damn, but the man looked fine. Lake shook off the inappropriate thoughts and frowned down at the reports once more, determined to stay on track and out of the smutty pool where he was concerned.
When she didn’t answer, Drake continued. “I also called in a friend to check out those companies marked in the report. He’s an old SEAL teammate who now works for the FBI.”
“FBI doesn’t handle money laundering,” she said, without thinking. At his pointed silence, she glanced up to find him watching her with a narrowed gaze.
“How do you know that?”
Crap. She hadn’t told him about her parents’ crimes, and now she wouldn’t either. He might have had some right to learn about her past back when they were lovers, but they were nothing more than business colleagues at this point, so she tried to play it off as best she could. Lake shrugged. “I watch a lot of crime shows on TV.”
“Hmm.” He sounded decidedly unconvinced, but thankfully let it go. “Anyway, my friend Foster said he’d do some checking into those companies anyway, then let me know if he turns up anything suspicious. He’s also going to try and track down Carrie Bartlett and question her. See what she knows.”
“Good.” She set the reports aside and went back to typing on her computer. “Anything else?”
“Do you recognize any of those company names on the reports?”
“Of course.” She said, clack-clacking away. “It’s my business to know all of our donors.”
“You didn’t mention that the foundation had only recently started accepting outside donations.”
“Well, yes,” she said. “From what I understand, it started a few years ago. I’ve only been with the foundation for the past two years, so it predates me. I guess I forgot that it hadn’t always been that way.”
Drake continued to stare at her, his dark gaze unreadable. The quiet grew suffocating and his stare burned a hole through her as she worked, and the moment stretched taut. Heat prickled her cheeks. Please don’t let him ask me how I’m doing. Please don’t. Because if he asked, she was feeling vulnerable enough right then that she just might tell him. Tell him she felt heartbroken and lonely and missed him so much she hurt with it. And that wouldn’t do either of them any good.
Luckily, he didn’t ask. Instead, he changed topics to something that surprised her completely. “I may have found a buyer for Shepperton, Inc.”
Lake stopped short, her fingers freezing on the keyboard as she met his dark eyes. “Really? Who?”
“Man by the name of Baron Bexler. Big-time rancher. He was at the gala last night. Ever heard of him?” Drake asked, sitting back in his seat, his broad shoulders slumping a bit as he stared down at his hands in his lap.
“No. And pretty much everyone who’s got money down here has some connection to ranching.” She swiveled in her chair to face him. She’d known he’d been searching for a buyer but hadn’t expected him to find one so quickly. One more task completed. One more nail in the coffin of their time together. “So, he sounds serious then?”
“Seems to be. I’ve set up another meeting with him to formally discuss things, since we first met when we were a few drinks in, which really wasn’t conducive to talking business.” He sat forward again, the expensive material of his suit stretching tight over his muscled arms, and her pulse stuttered once more. Lake swallowed hard and looked away fast. “Do me a favor?”
Anything. The word teetered on the tip of her tongue before she forced it away. If Drake had a good lead on a buyer for Shepperton, Inc. and they were narrowing down leads on his brother’s illicit activities, then that meant that his responsibilities in the area were quickly wrapping up. Even more reason to stick with his new plan to put distance between them. Too bad her stupid heart had other ideas. She had come to care for him far too much, far too quickly, and that was bad. So bad. Because caring too much for people only led to pain and regret, in her experience. And she had more than enough regret in her life already. Besides, now she had more than herself to think about. She had her babies. Her hand drifted down to rest atop her stomach as Drake stood and headed back toward the door.
He stopped part way, though, and turned back to her, a flash of hurt in his dark eyes before he covered it again. Drake opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. A weird mix of apprehension and adrenaline buzzed inside her, waiting for him to speak. There was so much left unsaid between them, even after their talk in the bedroom; so much inside her she’d never say because having the words out there, saying out loud that she loved him, might break her beyond repair.
“Lake,” he said at last, her name sounding like a cross between a blessing and a curse. His dark brows drew together and his lips compressed into a thin line. “I don’t regret what happened. With us.”
The hardest thing she’d ever done was turn away from him again, but she did. Swiveled right back to face her computer, hoping the distance between them and the computer screen would hide the tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. Not now. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “There is no us. Not anymore, right? That’s what you wanted. And now that I’ve thought about it, you’re right. Things are complicated enough here without the added pressure of our affair. Let’s stick with the plan, shall we?”
Drake stood there for several seconds. His internal battle was palpable to her because she was fighting the same battle inside. She was torn between the urge to run to him and hurl herself into his arms and never let him go—or to stay where she was and let him walk out of her life forever. In the end, they both remained on their separate sides of the divide.
“Yes. The plan,” he said, turning away to open the door, his deep voice grumbling with finality. “We’ll stick with the plan. Can you check into those companies in the report as well?”
Work. Yep. That was all they had now.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. The door closed behind him and Lake sat for a long while afterward, just staring at the wall and thinking she ought to feel a lot better about things than she did. Because right now, she felt like she’d just thrown away something precious and rare that might never return again.
Nineteen
Two days later, Drake sat in his office listening while Lake relayed the results of her research.
“Basically, all of these businesses were involved with a Shepperton, Inc. development project in Nevada,” she said, her tone cool and professional, any sign of their previous passion gone. No flirting. No warmth. He should be relieved by that, but all he felt right now was a crappy hollowness gnawing inside him. She glanced up at him, her gaze icy. “That’s not unusual, though, at least on the surface, since most of the donors to the foundation are involved with various projects in one way or another. It’s the gateway for many of our partners into the foundation.”
“Hmm.” Drake frowned and took a deep breath. He caught a hint of Lake’s sweet floral perfume on the air, but he did his best not to focus on it. Tried not to focus on how nice she looked in her black pantsuit either, or the paleness of her complexion this morning. Was she feeling okay? Eating okay? Since their conversation the other night, she’d kept to herself, forgoing meals with him in favor of eating alone in her room at the condo. They’d barely said more
than two words to each other outside of the office, and dammit, he didn’t like it one bit. Even though it had been his decision to break it off, she was still carrying his brother’s twins and he still felt responsible for her well-being.
And he missed her too.
Not that he’d ever tell her that. The fact that she seemed able to put up walls between them so easily when he couldn’t seem to keep his mind from drifting to her every second of the day didn’t help either.
Drake needed to keep his head clear and his brain on task at the moment, what with this shitstorm Devon had left behind. He’d thought ending things with Lake would make concentrating easier to do, but the distance between them only seemed to bother him more. He’d slept like shit last night and food tasted like cardboard when she wasn’t there to smile at him across the dinner table. Honestly, he felt more distracted now, without Lake, than he had before.
It made no sense. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was in love. Except that wasn’t possible. He’d gone into this whole thing knowing it was temporary. He didn’t do love anyway. And maybe if he told himself that enough times, the ache in his chest would subside.
“Anyway,” Lake continued, drawing him out of his thoughts. “From my end, all of the donation activity from these companies looks normal. The only possible red flag would be the large amounts.”
Shit.
He opened his mouth to answer, but the buzzing of the phone on his desk cut him off. Lake started to leave, but he held up a finger to stop her. Reluctantly, she slumped back down into her chair and fiddled with her reports while he answered the call without looking at the screen.
“Drake Shepperton.”
“Hey, it’s Foster,” his buddy at the FBI said. “I looked into those names you gave me, and I got a hit.”
“Yeah?” Drake sat forward, a spark of interest shoving aside the heavy weight of regret inside him. Lake glanced up at him, her brows raised and her expression curious. He put the call on speaker phone and laid it on the desk. “Tell me. I’ve got an associate here with me who’s helping me with the internal investigation.”
“Right,” Agent Foster said. “After we talked, I got those names over to my friend in the White Collar Crimes unit. They work in conjunction with the Treasury Department on some of these cases. Turns out they’ve been monitoring four of the companies on the list you gave me.”
Lake sat forward too, giving him a view down the front of her blouse. Drake swallowed hard and looked away. “Go on,” he said, his voice rougher than normal.
“The thing that really stood out to the unit, though, was the name of the law firm you said connected all of them—Dowd and Associates. Turns out the guys in White Collar Crimes have had Felix Dowd under surveillance for the past six months on suspicion of fraud.”
Drake scrubbed a hand over his face. Finally, the pieces were coming together. Determination to put an end to his brother’s injustices burning in his gut, he nodded. “Good. What’s our next step, then?”
“The unit wants to set up a meeting with you to discuss your reports and gather more evidence,” Foster said. “What’s your schedule look like for Friday?”
After pulling up his calendar and checking the day, Drake set up an appointment for Friday afternoon, then ended the call. Lake still sat across from him, oddly quiet now that the new information they’d been searching for was out there. He could feel the weight of her stare prickling on the side of his face until he finally glanced her way. Her frown had darkened, and shadows filled her brown eyes. He figured maybe she was upset because he’d dominated the conversation, so he said, “You can attend the meeting too on Friday, if you’re available.”
“I’ll have to check my calendar,” she said, standing. “What about the company’s legal counsel?”
Damn. He’d forgotten about them. Before she left, he picked up his phone again and called the company attorneys to tell them about the FBI’s findings and the Friday afternoon meeting. Once he hung up, he stood and walked around the desk to catch Lake before she opened the door.
“The attorney’s advised that we suspend all donation activity to the Shepperton Foundation until after the meeting on Friday,” he said, hiding his wince. That foundation was everything to Lake. Having it mired in scandal now because of his asshole brother had to be killing her. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said, though her brisk tone and the fact she wouldn’t meet his gaze clearly said it was not. “I should get back to my office and get started, then. I’ve got lots of phone calls to make.”
She exited, leaving him behind to stare after her, his initial happiness at having his suspicions confirmed dulled by more regret. He couldn’t help but regret hurting Lake more after what he’d already done. Maybe he could make some calls, find her a new foundation to run—a new career to replace the one he’d destroyed.
Damn you, Devon. Damn you to hell and back.
Restless and frustrated, he stalked back to his desk. The one thing he still couldn’t figure out was why the hell his brother had done it. Devon wasn’t a saint by any means, but he was also rich by any definition of the word. He didn’t need the extra cash. Plus, money laundering took a lot of planning and effort, neither of which his brother had been too keen on in his life. Devon liked things with as few complications as possible. Devising this elaborate scheme seemed way outside his brother’s wheelhouse. Even with the help of Carrie Bartlett, it seemed beyond Devon. So, was there someone else helping him to funnel the funds through the company?
An image of Lake flashed into his mind again, but he quickly shoved it aside. No way. She’d been through enough where his brother was concerned. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d have helped him, even if they had been sleeping together. Besides, he’d seen her personnel file. Everything had checked out clean. She was the one who had come to him with the initial suspicions—he wouldn’t even have looked into this if she hadn’t brought it to his attention in the first place. Beyond question, she wasn’t involved.
Drake wasn’t the kind of guy who enjoyed the questions in life. He was an answer man through and through. Perhaps that’s what bothered him most of all about this whole fucking mess. The uncertainty. The not knowing. The uncomfortable realization that he didn’t know who he could trust anymore.
Except Lake. You trust her completely.
It was true. He did. After what they’d been through together the past couple of weeks, there was no one he wanted on his side more. Even if he’d soon walk away and never see her again.
With a sigh, he plopped back down in his seat and reached for his phone once more. He needed to fill Jameson in on the call with Foster and the meeting Friday, since he wanted the accountant there as well.
Twenty
Lake returned to her office feeling even more discombobulated than she had before. It wasn’t just the thing with Drake. It was the fact that all of this would be over way sooner than she’d imagined, based on that phone call she’d just heard.
And speaking of phone calls, she needed to start making some herself.
Hoping to distract her mind from the yawning cavern her future had become, Lake kept busy calling all of Shepperton, Inc.’s current donors—with the exception of the companies on the list Drake had given her—and informing them that all fundraising activities were on hold until further notice. When questioned about why, she told them that the foundation was reevaluating its future due to Devon’s death. Not the truth, but not a complete lie either. All of this mess had started with his car accident.
No, that wasn’t true.
The mess had started the minute Devon had made his choice to launder that money. Then, of course, she’d had her own moment of idiocy in sleeping with the guy. Not that the two were connected, but still. Looking back now, she could see how foolish it had been. She sat back and rubbed a hand over her belly. Not that she regretted everything about their ill-advised union. Sleeping with him had given her the twins and Lake wouldn’t trade them
for anything. And the twins had eventually led her to meeting Drake Shepperton. Even though it was all over for them now, she didn’t regret that either.
Honestly, the only thing she regretted here was the fact that the job she loved would soon vanish.
With a sigh, she picked up the phone again to make another call, only to hang up. It all felt so pointless now. Pointless and exhausting. Given that the FBI was now involved and Shepperton, Inc. was up for sale, it was unlikely the foundation would survive. Maybe she should just let it die a quick death and move on.
She reached over and tapped the keyboard on her computer, bringing up the file directory. One more click and her old resume appeared onscreen. Whatever the fate of the Shepperton Foundation, she needed to make sure she had a job that would ensure adequate finances for the months ahead. Twin pregnancies by nature were higher risk than single births and her OB/GYN had already talked to her about the possibility of bed rest as her due date grew closer. This early, she felt fine, but as the pregnancy progressed, she was at a higher risk for complications. If the worst-case scenario happened, she’d need to be prepared.
Always thrifty, Lake had saved a tidy nest egg that should cover the last trimester if she ended up not being able to work during that period, and six months of post-partum leave, but then she’d need to get another job if this one fell through, which seemed likely. Plus, she’d need health insurance for her and the twins. Hopefully she could negotiate her severance package from Shepperton, Inc. to include coverage for a year paid by the company. Drake owed her that, at least, and she didn’t think he’d fight her on it.
Right. Never one to wallow in her troubles, Lake straightened and faced down her outdated resume. Knowing the foundation was in trouble, it wouldn’t hurt to put out feelers now to see if anyone was hiring. If she could have something lined up to move over to right away, she could get her feet wet and start establishing herself before her pregnancy became a serious concern. Maybe she could even work through the last trimester, if her new employer was flexible about letting her work from home. Non-profits were her specialty, but at this point she wouldn’t be picky. Basically anything that would pay the bills and offered a full benefits package was on the table. Never mind she might be overqualified. Post-graduate degrees didn’t mean squat when you couldn’t put food on the table.