by Katie Knight
Afterward, Drake blinked hard and rested against the rear of his SUV to allow the cool early morning breeze to keep him alert and focused while he waited. Foster. He needed to let Foster know what had happened. Hitting the redial button for his friend, he waited and waited, but his buddy didn’t pick up. Leaving a message wasn’t ideal under the current circumstances, but it was better than nothing. He relayed the facts as best he could remember, then hung up just as his ride pulled up in an empty spot nearby. Thankfully the guy didn’t ask too many questions, just gave him a few odd looks in the rearview mirror before they headed toward his condo. The traffic was light between the office and home, and he arrived within ten minutes. Lake was nowhere to be found, of course, but the fact that all of her stuff was still there in the guest room gave him hope she hadn’t left town for good. Now, if he could just find her and make sure she was safe, he’d be all set. He checked his phone screen, but still no call from Foster. He tried his friend’s number again, but still no answer.
Please let her be okay. Please let this all work out. Please…
After a quick shower and change of clothes, he felt almost human again. He popped a few aspirin and grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer to hold on his sore head, then plopped down on the sofa in the living room and tried Foster’s number one more time. This time, he answered.
“Drake,” his friend said once he answered. “I just finished listening to your voicemail. Jesus, you never do anything the easy way, do you?”
“Easy is boring,” Drake said, snorting, then wincing when it hurt his temple. “Listen, we need to find her. I don’t believe she was in on the money laundering. Lake loves that foundation and she wanted to atone for the awful things her parents did. She’d never betray the charity like that.”
“Okay. Well, I’d say our best is to stick with Dowd and Associates, since they’re our top suspect in all this. I’d lay money that Felix Dowd is behind this at the end of the day.” Foster went silent for a minute, then got back on the line. “I’ve just texted my buddy at the Treasury Department and they’re going to tap into the banking system to monitor transfers to and from the Shepperton Foundation accounts this morning. If your girl’s clues pan out, then we should be able to track it all from here and trace them directly to Dowd. Then we can pick him and his associates up for questioning.”
Drake tossed the bag of peas aside and raked a hand through his hair. He hated waiting around, but there wasn’t much choice. “Let me know when you have something, please.”
“Will do, buddy,” Foster said. “Should probably get that head of yours looked at too. Maybe they knocked some sense into you at last.”
“Funny. Not.” He chuckled, then ended the call. Out of patience and restless, Drake spent the next couple of hours pacing the condo, making himself breakfast, then monitoring the local news for any signs of the cops picking up suspicious vehicles or Lake’s abduction. Nothing.
God, why hadn’t he told Lake earlier how he was feeling? Now, he might never get the chance to say what he needed to say to her, to tell her that he didn’t care about who her parents were or the horrible things they’d done. She wasn’t her family any more than he was his. All that mattered now was them, together.
If she’d have him back. If they survived this.
Fuck.
She had to be terrified, out there alone with those men, playing a part to throw them off course, all to protect him when he should have protected her. His inner SEAL instincts railed against the failure.
No. He wouldn’t fail here because he couldn’t fail here. He would figure this out, with help from Foster and the FBI and Treasury Department. He’d bring down Dowd and clean up the mess his brother had left behind. Then perhaps he and Lake could start fresh, make a new future for themselves and the twins.
When he’d come home a few weeks ago, Drake had been so sure of what his plans were—sell the company, then re-up for another four years with his SEAL team. But now, nothing seemed sure. He’d never considered himself a businessman, but maybe he could run the company. His conversation with Billy the previous day had reminded him that once upon a time, he had dreamed about changing the world, or at least his little corner of it. Had dreamed about making Shepperton, Inc. a company to be proud of rather than despised. About making life better for their employees and empowering them to help others and better the community, too.
As he made yet another lap around the condo, the idea took root, blossomed. Drake started to see himself settling here in Dallas, maybe buying a house, starting a family—with Lake. It would be tough saying goodbye to his team, but now he felt ready to move on and start a new future.
But first, they had to end this fiasco.
After what seemed like a small eternity, but couldn’t have been more than two hours, his cell phone buzzed. Drake answered on the first ring without checking the caller ID. “What’s happening?”
“Anxious much, dude?” Foster laughed then sobered. “Don’t worry. We’ll get them. Promise. The transactions have started, just like your girl said on the recording.”
My girl. Damn, that has a nice ring to it.
“And?” Drake said, his heart pinching with a fresh wave of yearning for Lake. “Can you trace them?”
“Yep. We’re tracking them now.” The sound of Foster typing echoed over the phone line. “Looks like the signals are coming from a house over in University Park. The guys from Treasury are putting a team together now to raid the place. You in?”
Like he even needed to ask. “Hell yes, I’m in. Just tell me where and when.”
Twenty-Four
Lake hadn’t slept at all the night before, despite the opulence of her surroundings.
After she’d preauthorized the transfers through her computer at Shepperton, Inc.—something that could only be done on the company’s network and something that the transfers wouldn’t process without—the two thugs had brought her to this mansion set back in the woods on the outskirts of Dallas to complete the funneling of the money into their boss’s account.
At least she didn’t have to wait any longer to find out who was behind the whole money laundering scheme. Felix Dowd.
To look at him, he wasn’t exactly what you’d call a classic villain. He was in his sixties, with a smallish stature and an unassuming face. She’d met him several times over the years at different charity fundraisers and hadn’t thought twice about him. Which, looking back, was probably what made him such a genius crook. She’d learned early on from her parents that the best way to hide something was in plain sight. And Felix Dowd had obviously turned that wisdom into an art form.
He was sitting across from her in the massive chef’s style kitchen at a granite island that could have seated six people and then some. The guy was reading the Financial Times and sipping a steaming mug of herbal tea, his blue eyes narrowed behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
“Would you like a piece of toast, my dear?” Dowd asked her without looking up. “Wouldn’t want you going hungry in your condition.”
The mention of the twins had her placing a protective hand over her abdomen. She wasn’t showing too much at this point, but Dowd had had people watching her, obviously. Her doctor’s appointments must have given away her pregnancy. “No, thank you.”
“Hmm.” He turned pages in his paper and sipped more tea. “I hope the boys treated you well last night.”
“The boys?” She tried to keep the snark from her tone and failed miserably. “You mean your thugs?”
“Thugs is such a base term.” Dowd gave a dismissive wave, the silk sleeve of his expensive robe flapping gently. “How about guards?” He looked up at her at last, his icy gaze making her shiver. “Yes, I think I prefer bodyguards. Your thoughts, my dear?”
“My thoughts are that I’d like to get the hell out of here.” She stopped short of telling him that she was not his dear and that his overly friendly tone made her skin crawl. “I’ve done what you asked.”
“But the mo
ney is still in transit.” Dowd set his paper aside and last and clasped his hands atop the cool granite countertop. “Until it clears my offshore accounts, you’re not going anywhere.” His eyes flicked down to her stomach again. “I assume Devon Shepperton is the father?”
Lake compressed her lips instead of responding, then countered with a question of her own. “Why are you doing this?”
Dowd blinked at her a moment as if confused. “Doing what?”
“Stealing money from charities that need it?” She looked around at the extravagant house, the hand-painted tile floors, the high ceilings, the priceless artwork scattered everywhere. “You clearly don’t need more cash.”
“And that’s where you’re mistaken.” He sat back and crossed his arms. As far as she could tell, they were the only two people in the house, though she didn’t doubt there were numerous guards stationed outside for protection. Besides the two goons he’d sent after her and Drake last night, she’d seen several others patrolling the perimeter of the property out the window of her bedroom earlier. “One can never have too much money.”
She snorted and shook her head. That sentiment was one she’d heard over and over from her parents while she was growing up. When they’d first started stealing and cheating people, it was because they’d needed the money to survive. But as their cons got bigger and more successful, their need had quickly transformed into greed. By the end, the funds they were taking from those elderly clients weren’t even necessary. Her parents had just done it because they could.
“Wrong,” Lake said, biting the word out with a good portion of spite.
“And you’re too idealistic, Miss Turner,” Dowd said, using the last name she never wanted to hear again. “Would have expected better from you, knowing your esteemed lineage.”
Exhausted and afraid, Lake couldn’t restrain her emotions any longer. She all but growled, “Esteemed? Are you fucking kidding me? My parents were liars and cheats and frauds. There’s nothing noble about that.”
He tsked. “My dear. So ungrateful. Your parents were artists. They took what was basically a Ponzi scheme then added on the flair of a magical act and voilà. Perfection. The fact that you can’t see the genius in what they did is your shortcoming, not theirs.” He waved his hand again, as if her morals were nothing more than a bothersome fly to be shooed away. “You should embrace your past, use your talents as God intended and join me.”
“Join you?” Her bark of laughter was decidedly snide. “What are you? Some washed-up wannabe Bond villain? You’re a petty thief, Mr. Dowd. That’s all. A common criminal. And as soon as Drake Shepperton figures out what you’re up to, he’ll catch your ass and put you in prison for the rest of your miserable life.” She shrugged. “Maybe you can bunk with my parents. I’m sure they could use a friend or two right now.”
Straightening, Felix Dowd smoothed a hand down the front of his garish, embroidered silk robe and glared at her. “There is nothing common about me, Miss Turner. Nothing. And as far as Drake Shepperton goes, you saw to it yourself that he won’t be coming after me. He’ll be too busy clearing his own name.” A small smile curved his thin lips, unpleasant and cruel. “Besides, you should be careful about throwing stones from your glass house. You were happy enough to climb into bed with Devon Shepperton, who was dirty as hell. The whole Shepperton family had no qualms about bending the rules to get what they wanted. Devon was exactly what you accused me of being. A thief and a criminal. He just happened to handle his business in the public eye. See what I mean about money? Get enough of it and people let you do whatever you want.” One corner of his lips pulled up into a smirk. “Or whoever you want. You must be quite…persuasive to have seduced not just one Shepperton twin, but two. Nice work, Miss Turner.”
Hackles up, Lake clenched her fists at her sides to keep from punching something, namely Felix Dowd. What she and Drake had together had been wonderful and real and pure, not the tawdry mess this asshole made it out to be. A brief image of Drake in the car last night, injured and alone, made her heart ache. She prayed he was okay and that he’d figure out the clues she’d left him before it was too late.
Lake took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on what she had to do here to stall. Drake needed time to wake up, find the phone, listen to the recording, then contact the authorities. A quick glance at the digital clock above the professional-grade stove said she had about an hour before Jameson showed up to work in accounting and began to see all those withdrawals from the foundation’s accounts. Withdrawals she’d linked to Drake’s name.
If they both got out of this alive, she owed Drake some big-time apologies. For not telling him the truth about her past. For creating evidence against him, even if she only did it to save his life. For not being honest about how much she loved him and wanted to be with him, wherever the future might lead.
But she might never get the chance now. Too little, too late.
Lake swallowed hard and switched subjects to one she knew Felix Dowd liked to talk about the best—himself. “Why’d you work with Devon?”
At first Dowd didn’t respond, just held her gaze for a moment. Then he sat back and picked up his tea again, sipping it, then watching her over the rim. “I know what you’re trying to do, Miss Turner. Buying time.” He looked over at the clock, then back to her. “But I suppose it can’t hurt for me to monologue a bit, right? I did come up with a brilliant plan, after all, and it would be a shame not to share it with someone who can appreciate it, especially since you won’t be around long enough to share it with anyone.” Dowd laughed and shook his head. “You may be right, my dear. I do sound like a movie villain. Sorry. Too much work and no play. Maybe I’ll take a nice vacation in South America after this. Get some R and R. Refocus my mind.”
She had several ideas of what he could do with his mind, and the rest of him, but refrained from saying so. As long as the guy kept talking, it bought Drake another minute to find the truth and find her.
“Anyway,” Dowd said. “I began working with Devon Shepperton shortly after his parents died. He’d taken over the company as CEO and was looking to expand Shepperton, Inc.’s holdings internationally. I had extensive connections in Eastern Europe and Russia and offered to help him make some acquisitions there. The Baltic region was in flux then and grabbing land rights was almost too easy, if you knew what you were doing.”
“And you did?”
“I always do.”
His chilling grin made her shudder. She wrapped her thin black cardigan tighter around her. “What about Carrie Bartlett? How’d she fit into all this?”
“Just a very minor cog in a huge machine. Expendable. So expendable.”
Lake’s eyes widened as the ramifications of that word hit home. Before she could ask him if Carrie Bartlett was dead, he continued.
“Anyway, after getting my hands on a couple of lucrative oil and natural gas reserves in Ukraine, I approached Devon about partnering with me on them. He, of course, was thrilled. At least until I laid out my terms for co-ownership. We couldn’t funnel the money directly into our bank accounts because of laws and sanctions, so we had to get creative with the financing.”
“Creative.” Her heart sank as she put the pieces together. “That’s why you used the foundation.”
“Yes. Very good, Miss Turner.” He finished his tea and set the empty cup aside. “No sense dirtying our hands with tainted money, when we could run it through a couple of charities and grants and come out fresh as daisies and with a tidal wave of great PR to boot. The local chamber of commerce even gave me a medal last year, did you know that? Philanthropist of the year.” Dowd shook his head again and laughed. “Idiots.”
Lake felt like the biggest idiot of all, though, for not seeing all of it sooner. She’d tried so hard to be different, to not follow in her parents’ footsteps, and yet she’d inadvertently ended up exactly like them. Even if she’d been a dupe rather than an accomplice, she still blamed herself. She’d run the foundation; she should
have known what Devon was doing, should have questioned him more. But nope. She’d fallen for his BS hook, line and sinker.
Idiot indeed.
Before she could fall too deeply into her pit of despair, however, the door leading out onto the exquisitely manicured back lawn opened and a well-armed man dressed all in black entered. He rushed to Dowd’s side and whispered something to him that Lake couldn’t catch.
Dowd’s expression hardened slightly before relaxing back into an unreadable mask. He murmured a response to the man, then stood as the guard headed back outside. “Excuse me, Miss Turner. There’s something I need to deal with. I suggest you get back to your room and stay away from the doors and windows.”
Her blood froze. “What? Why? What’s going on?”
Felix Dowd came around the island and took her by the arm, muscling her to her feet and down the hall toward the stairs with far more force than she would have given him credit for. “Get upstairs. Now! I don’t have time to argue with you. If you want to stay alive, you’ll do as I say.” When she hesitated again, he shouted, “Go!”
She’d barely made it to the second floor, however, when the sound of shattering glass echoed from the foyer below. Then all hell broke loose. Bullets flew everywhere. Men shouted and doors crashed in. Lake tried to take cover as best she could while the world exploded around her, ducking to shield her abdomen and protect the twins. They were all that mattered now. She’d screwed up her own life, despite her best intentions. Had lost the man she’d loved. Had made the wrong choices…
Footsteps pounded up the stairs amidst shouts of “FBI! Put your hands up!”
Lake covered her head and pushed farther into the corner, dizzy and distressed and downright terrified. She should have taken Dowd up on his offer of toast in the kitchen. She’d not eaten since lunch the day before and now she was lightheaded. Not good considering the shitty situation around her now. She cowered even more, unable to stop the violent tremors racking her body.