by Regan Black
He started to protest, but she cut him off. “Save your breath. Have you seen or heard from Brody?”
“Still in the wind,” Griffin said, honoring the change of subject. “Let’s all have dinner at the house. I’ll get everybody together and—”
“No, thank you,” she said. “I really can’t cope with that. I’m tired,” she confessed. “There are a few tasks I need to check off my list, then I’m going home, having soup and going to bed early.”
Griffin opened his mouth and wisely snapped it shut. “All right. But you’ve got all of us at your back. Remember that.”
He came around the desk again and helped her up so he could hug her. She didn’t resist; in fact, she let herself lean just a little. “You are an excellent big brother,” she said. “Bossy and overprotective, but excellent.” Stepping away from him she added, “I’ll let you know when the approval comes through from Capital X.”
She could see how badly he wanted to say that didn’t matter, but neither of them would believe it.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He paused at the door. “One last thing? Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”
“I promise.”
With the office to herself again, she was just digging into her case file, making a plan, when Sadie stopped by, followed soon after by Riley. A veritable parade of siblings needing to see her with their own eyes.
In between, she fielded text message check-ins from Emmanuel. Somehow those didn’t bother her. By the time she actually succeeded in dialing the number for Hicks’s mother, she was almost grateful no one picked up. She left a voice message with her name and number anyway, assuring the woman she only wanted true justice for her son by making sure the right person was behind bars.
Only time would tell if that call had any impact or value for Anna.
In the meantime, she returned to the task of evaluating the victim’s credit card records and banking history, matching the dates he’d been out with other women to the gossip columns in the local papers.
She couldn’t call the man discreet, but he didn’t seem prone to drawing undue attention when he was out at events or on casual dates. There were several pictures of Hicks with one particular woman around the holidays last year. But that was the closest she could come to finding anything that might qualify as a relationship. Nothing criminal in that. Unfortunately it gave her no leads.
Her stomach growled, and she remembered she hadn’t eaten anything today. It was already past six. She checked her phone for any updates from Emmanuel, but he hadn’t reached out since three, when he told her things were slow during his time on the tip line the GRPD had set up for information on the key players in the RevitaYou crisis.
Though they hadn’t made any formal plans or declarations, she assumed he would show up at her place at some point this evening. Too weary to cook, she looked over the menu online of her favorite sandwich shop. She could pick up a meal for him and soup for herself and be ready to feed them both, or have extras for tomorrow.
Deciding to check one last time for any news on the loan application, she turned on the laptop and logged on with the alias’s information. Once she opened the email, she saw the message from Capital X. Apparently they were moving through the approval process with lightning speed.
She opened the email, and her hand immediately touched her throat as she read through the information. They had approved Alison Carrington’s loan request for $25,000 at a 30 percent interest rate. For the life of her, she didn’t understand how people fell for such outrageous terms.
The schedule showed the first payment would be due in three days. Not a lot of time for an initial, legitimate investment to yield a return. A smart applicant would hold back the amount of the first payment from the original loan amount or risk getting in deeper.
All she had to do was click Accept. The money would be transferred and the clock would start ticking. It wasn’t even real. She was doing this to protect real applicants, people who didn’t know better and felt as if they had no other solutions beyond the Capital X financial abuse.
She checked the box to accept the repayment schedule, and the screen changed. The next section was an acknowledgement that, in the event of a missed payment, Capital X had the right to adjust the interest rate, call in the entirety of the loan, and take any and all required action to recoup their investment.
A chill iced her skin. Understanding the Capital X tactics, she knew that any sincere applicant who accepted the terms was setting themselves up for broken bones at best. With Capital X so adept at eluding investigators and criminal lawsuits so far, Pippa could imagine what they would do if they figured out she had fooled them with an alias.
She reviewed all of the sections one more time, agreeing to the disastrous terms and accepting the loan. For Brody. For all the others who had been hurt or injured. CI would close down the Capital X operation permanently.
Another email came through within minutes so she could provide the routing number and specify where she wanted the deposit placed. In the case of this alias, the money would sit idly in an account, only to be used later as proof against Capital X.
Turning off the computer, she packed it back into the bag. She sent a group text message to Riley, Griffin and Kiely, with the full update and first payment due date. The reply came back in record time; the woman fulfilling the role as Alison Carrington was in place. Somehow Riley and the GRPD had come to terms about using an undercover officer to impersonate the alias and give Capital X enforcers a physical target.
The woman was bait. Trained and willing, but still bait. Her job was to reel in the enforcers so the police had an opportunity to turn those brutes against the people calling the shots at Capital X.
She tidied her office, per her habit, putting everything in its place before she left. With a little luck the CI team could soon have actionable leads on Capital X and Brody could come out of hiding.
Chapter 11
When Emmanuel met Pippa at her condo that evening, they compared notes, and he learned his day hadn’t been much more productive than hers. He hadn’t had visits from siblings, but he’d bumped up against dead end after dead end trying to track the attacker’s escape from her building. Such expert avoidance of traffic cams and the unmarked cars only fueled his theory that the intruder was indeed Joe McRath.
The sergeant had called out sick that day, all the more suspicious in Emmanuel’s mind, though it made it easier for Emmanuel to return to the evidence room. No surprise the Wentworth case box was still missing. With the lieutenant’s permission he had been reviewing the video footage of the evidence room, and he’d found discrepancies that warranted a closer look. On two occasions, Joe showed up on the video when he hadn’t officially signed the log. It wasn’t enough to take to the lieutenant, but he added it to the file he was building.
Over a sandwich piled high with thick slices of juicy roast beef for him and a bowl of vegetable soup for her, he shifted to simpler topics. The good news was the repaired wall was dry and the noisy equipment was gone. The quiet was clearly a relief to her, but he could tell she was sore and tired.
“I need to decide if I’ll repaint or try something new.”
“Go new,” he suggested. “It can be a fresh start.”
She tipped her head, considering. “I know feeling shaky is par for the course after what happened, so I don’t want to rush that decision.”
“It is a big wall,” he teased. Personally, he thought doing something different was a good opportunity to put a division between the bad that had happened and moving forward.
Her amusement faded, and she pushed the remainder of soup around the bowl with her spoon. “I’m glad you’re here.” She took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to meet his. “I’m really glad you were close last night. Thank you,” she finished, her voice cracking.
“You want me to stay over again?”
; She nodded. “Please. If you want to.”
“Whatever you need.” He’d packed an overnight bag just in case. Reaching out, he covered her hand with his. “I really don’t want to be anywhere else, sweetheart.”
She bit her lip and her eyes misted, though she blinked before the tears could spill over. He decided his thought about the two of them could wait until a better time. Feeling vulnerable was unfamiliar territory for her, and he didn’t want her confusing his feelings with the circumstances.
“The deli threw in a dozen cookies,” she managed after a sniffle. “Chocolate chip.”
“What do you say to cookies and milk and reruns?”
She smiled, that sparkle faint, but evident in her green eyes. “I’m in.”
They demolished the cookies and milk and she snuggled next to him, quickly drifting off as they watched a series of mindless reruns on television. When she was sound asleep, he carried her to bed and stretched out beside her, pleased beyond reason when she curled into his body, holding him close.
He stared at the ceiling, thinking of the next move for both of them, creating a mental timeline for himself. Everyone would be counting down the hours to the missed Capital X payment. While Pippa had to stay away from all of that, Emmanuel planned to be close to the undercover officer when that deadline approached.
Until then, he had nothing but time to figure out how to get some kind of proof that Joe was involved with the attack last night, and the framing of Anna Wentworth months ago.
* * *
Pippa could practically hear the clock ticking toward the first payment deadline. All she had to do now was stay away from the Alison Carrington address, keep the laptop turned off and focus on the rest of her life.
If only it was as easy to do as it was to say.
It helped to have Emmanuel as close as a text message throughout the day, and she appreciated his presence keeping the nightmares at bay while she slept. As much as she valued her independence, he managed to give her support and care without stifling her. A strange and rare combination that she could get used to.
Would he want that, or was this closeness between them just a fluke of an ongoing investigation?
A final decision would have to wait. Elizabeth was still calling before and after every visit to the prison, and try as she might, Pippa wasn’t making the strides necessary to pinpoint an event that led to murder.
An attorney for Hicks’s mother had returned her calls, strongly suggesting she leave the family alone. She had to believe that closed door only put her closer to the right path.
Who had wanted that man dead, and why commit the crime on the Wentworth estate?
As much as Emmanuel believed McRath was involved and continued to pursue proof through his channels at the GRPD, Pippa wanted to find the real killer. Was it Leigh? Parents notoriously went to extremes to shelter their kids from consequences. Evidence tampering could be a felony. Would Joe risk his career and reputation to protect Leigh? If he had manipulated a case as publicized as the Hicks murder once before, it couldn’t be his first. Everything had been set up too perfectly to frame Anna.
Her stomach churned. Did practice make perfect? Finding proof he’d mishandled previous cases would definitely bring the Wentworth case up for review. That helped, but still left the real killer unpunished.
Hicks had dumped Leigh McRath for Anna. Betrayal could cut deep, especially when compounded by a broken heart. But why would Leigh wait six months to act out? Crimes of passion usually merited an immediate reaction. Pippa couldn’t see Joe having a motive for the murder. Most fathers would be relieved to learn that a man as slippery as Hicks was out of a daughter’s life.
* * *
She didn’t have enough to take to a judge or anyone else for a new trial. A press conference would be a flimsy publicity stunt at this point, and it could backfire in spectacular fashion. Trashing her reputation was one thing. Pippa didn’t want Emmanuel getting twisted up in her pet project, especially if they were wrong. The whole point of this effort was to find the real killer, not drag another innocent person through the mud.
Her cell phone buzzed against the surface of her desk, and she smiled at the text message from Emmanuel. He was on his way and bringing food. Feeling better, she probably should have cooked, but that would have to wait for another night.
Listening for him, she opened the door before he could knock and was rewarded with the savory aromas of salsa and hot spices. The bag in his hand was from one of her favorite Mexican restaurants. Her mouth watered in anticipation of the meal and the man.
His smile was temptation and a handsome distraction from her swirling, go-nowhere case. She stepped back, and her stomach rumbled loud enough that he laughed in response as he walked inside.
“Didn’t you eat at all today?” He strode directly to the kitchen.
How had he already figured out that she often forgot to eat? “I had a good breakfast.” The breakfast they’d shared before he’d gone into the station.
He arched an eyebrow. “Pippa,” he scolded lightly.
“I know, I know.” She lifted her hair up to the top of her head, then let it fall. “I went into the office, then drove by the Wentworth estate. I would’ve eaten if I’d made it to the gym,” she added, hearing the excuses. “My appetite is just—”
He cut her off with a kiss, and her appetite for food evaporated again. She pressed her body close, her fingers curling into his jacket, as she took the kiss deeper. For the past two days, he’d been treating her as if she was fragile, but she felt strong enough for anything right now.
“Take me to bed,” she said.
“The food?”
“Can wait.” She unbuttoned her blouse as she darted down the hallway. He was right behind her, catching her as she turned. His gaze skated over the lingering marks on her neck, then lower to her breasts. She shimmied out of her skirt and stood before him in only her bra and panties, stockings and heels. Only this man made her feel so bold.
“Hold it,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “This is a fantasy I intend to enjoy.”
She whispered his name, over and over, as they came together in a whirl of passion and tenderness that overwhelmed and empowered in turns.
Only him. Only him with her. Only them together, reclaiming her bed and restoring her confidence. She soared under every touch and reveled in every sigh. When at last they were sated, she knew her world had changed.
She was falling in love.
She should tell him. If the last days had proven anything, tomorrow wasn’t a guarantee. But if telling him drove him away, the challenges in the days ahead might just drown her. She needed him like she’d never needed anyone else.
* * *
Hours later, after a long and steamy shower for two, Emmanuel and Pippa made it back to the kitchen. He reheated the food and she poured wine. It was so natural, so easy and comfortable that he nearly blurted out the only three words on his mind.
He was falling for her.
Impossible, but true. However it had come to pass, he couldn’t deny it anymore. She’d slipped under all of his preconceived notions and shifted something deep inside him. He couldn’t wait to see her at the end of the day, and whether they spent the evening debating suspects or watching cartoons, he’d never been so content.
Could he tell her? Should he?
Not yet. Hell, it had only been days. And a rough few days for both of them. Would she be this willing to have him around once the Capital X and Wentworth cases were done?
There was the crux of it. He didn’t dwell on fear often, but he couldn’t shake it this time. She wouldn’t be safe while the person who killed Hicks walked free.
After two straight days of trouble, the person harassing her—had to be Joe—had gone quiet. Was he injured or just planning his next move to reduce the risk of another failure?
He had to find a way to flush out the killer.
* * *
Late the next morning, Pippa followed Leigh McRath to the juice bar with a pang of envy that the younger woman managed to look refreshed after leading the intense spin class. She’d signed up only as a way to get close to the woman without raising suspicions.
Pippa counted herself fit, but after this first spin class she never wanted to repeat the experience. Her legs felt like jelly, and she couldn’t wait to get home and shower off the sweat and soreness. “Thanks for agreeing to chat with me,” she began while the person behind the counter prepared their order.
Leigh’s chin came up. “Talking with you is the last thing I want to do,” she stated.
“You want justice for David,” Pippa reminded her gently.
Leigh’s lower lip quivered. “I miss David so much.” She pressed a dollar bill into the tip jar when her smoothie was delivered. “Why are you so sure that Wentworth bitch didn’t kill him?”
Pippa managed not to wince. Most people referred to her client in those terms or some variation. With good reason. “Well, there are actually several reasons. Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to discuss them in detail.”
“I was in that courtroom,” Leigh said, her voice low and hot. “Difficult as it was, I listened to all of the testimony.”
And along with everyone else, Leigh had seen those arrogant and careless above-it-all gestures from the defendant.
“The motive has always bothered me,” Pippa explained with far more patience than she felt. “I’ve known Mrs. Wentworth for many years. She’s certainly capable of being cold, rude and, yes, mean, but I don’t believe she murdered your friend.”
“He was more than a friend,” Leigh sputtered.
“Yes, he was,” Pippa agreed. “That was obvious from my research into the case. It’s exactly why I came to see you.”
Leigh’s surprise was obvious and genuine. Nearby, she noticed Emmanuel walking past. Not close enough to be recognized by Leigh, but enough to remind her he was there. When he’d heard what she had planned, he refused to let her deal with it alone.