A Match Made in Mystery (18 page)

“And as for the mugger,” he shrugged expressively. “You attacked him and it’s not like he’s in any position to retaliate.”

Amy stared at the man in the car, wondering if he’d just suggested that the reason the mugger had ended up dead was her.

A cold shiver skittered down her spine. If these were her father’s “friends,” how bad were his enemies?

“Found ya,” Diego crowed triumphantly from behind her. “

Frightened, she let out a shriek. Whirling around, she smacked his shoulder. “You scared me to death.”

Behind her, a car engine revved. Spinning back around, she watched her dad’s crony drive away.

“You’re a hard person to track down,” Diego complained.

She considered telling her oldest friend about the conversation she’d just had, but then decided to keep it to herself, so she said sarcastically, “And yet you figured out I was only here.”

“Only because Roscoe told me you would be.” He made a point of looking behind her. He flashed her his cheekiest grin. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

The mention of Brady made her chest contract painfully. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Seeing her reaction, Diego’s smile faltered. “What happened?”

“I had a choice to make.” Her throat closed and tears welled in her eyes.

Diego stepped forward and hugged her tightly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I think I made the wrong choice.” She sobbed into his shoulder.

Brady paced nervously outside the bank, waiting for it to open. As a result, he was walking away from Amy and didn’t realize she had arrived until he turned back around.

Recognizing him, her eyes widened with shock.

“Hi,” he said, determined to keep things casual in order to not scare her off.

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t sound pleased to see him.

“I thought you might need some help.”

“Turning a key?” she asked sarcastically.

“I thought you might need legal counsel since you’re not a signatory on the account.”

She considered that for a long moment. “I’m not supposed to see you.”

He took a step closer to her. She took a step back.

A vise tightened around Brady’s heart. “Why not?”

“I promised your mother.”

He clenched his fists, trying not to lose his temper. “She had no right to do what she did.”

Amy looked away.

“But I sort of understand why she did what she did,” he said slowly. “What I don’t understand is why you agreed to it.”

She hung her head in shame. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Stepping closer, he said softly, “Try me.”

Raising her chin, she stared at him defiantly, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. “It’s my chance.”

“Chance for what?”

“A chance to have a family. If I can find out who my father is, I won’t be alone.”

“You’re not alone now,” he reminded her quietly, hating the pain he heard in her voice and saw etched on her face.

Two tears spilled down her cheeks.

She dashed them away angrily. “And what would happen when you decide I’m right about us not fitting into each other’s worlds? I’d be alone.”

He knew from the desperation in her tone that she wouldn’t believe him if he said that would never happen, so he said nothing.

Behind them, the bank manager unlocked the door, opening the place for business.

“I have to take this chance,” Amy insisted.

“Then I’ll keep my promise and help you.” He pushed the door to the bank open and ushered her inside, torn between wanting her to find what she so badly wanted and hoping the box would be empty and that he could find a space in her life again.

Thankfully, she’d brought her Social Security card, so getting the bank employee to let them into the box wasn’t a problem since whoever had opened the account had included Amy’s name and social security number, but opening the box was a bit of a letdown since all it contained was a leather bag that contained a VHS tape.

“Old school,” Amy murmured, putting it back in the bag.

“Let me call Gerald to check to see if we have a VCR at the office,” Brady offered.

“No need. Diego has one.”

“You’re sure?”

“He’s into classic.” She made mocking air quotes with her fingers. “Cassettes, 8 Tracks, Record Players, and VCRs are his thing.”

Brady frowned, realizing he couldn’t help anymore. “Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. Thank you for your help, Brady.” Standing on her tiptoes she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before hurrying away.

He stood in the bank’s foyer, watching her walk out of his life, not knowing how to stop her. He was about to chase after her and beg for another chance when his cell phone buzzed.

“What?”

“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed, but that’s no reason to bite my head off,” Lara admonished.

“Sorry.”

“I thought you’d want to know that Eric just fired Gerald.”

Brady glanced at his watch. “Before ten on a Monday morning?’

“The kid’s heartbroken. His bowtie is all crooked.”

Brady watched Amy turn the corner. The pain of knowing he might never see her again felt like a physical blow.

“You have to do something,” Lara urged.

“I know.” Brady groaned.

“Are you okay?”

Laura’s sharp concern made him aware she’d been saying he had to do something to help Gerald, not to win back Amy. “I’m on my way.”

On the drive over to the office, Brady weighed the pros and cons of confronting Eric about the Hasburgh Industries mess. In the pro column, he listed doing the right thing and saving Keith’s business. Knowing he could be fired and not get a decent recommendation for his next job filled the con column.

His decision was easy.

Riding the elevator, he turned on his phone and stared at the picture he’d taken of Amy.  Just like he knew that the right thing to do was to confront Eric and inform Hasburgh, he knew that he needed to confront his mother and tell Amy how he felt.

He strode off the elevator, filled with purpose.

“Where is he?” he demanded of Lara as he marched toward her desk.

Her eyes flicked nervously toward his office.

“He’s in
my
office?”

“Of course not,” she shook her head. “He’s in his office. What are you going to do?”

“Protect my client to the best of my abilities.” Without saying anything else, he strode toward Eric’s office.

Eric was seated at his desk, staring at his computer screen.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Brady asked as way of greeting.

Eric guiltily slammed his computer shut before going on the offensive. “Let me guess, you’ve been talking to Gerald.”

“I’m going to be talking to Keith Hasburgh,” Brady warned. “And I’m going to tell him that I don’t support your plan because it puts him at risk. Gerald showed me the two sets of numbers you’re juggling. He figured out what you’re up to and I’m going to tell Hasburgh.”

Eric jumped to his feet. “You can’t do that.”

“I’m going to.”

“Then you’ll be fired too.”

Brady rocked back on his heels and shook his head. “I know your father didn’t raise you to take shortcuts like this, Eric.”

“My father was a sap,” Eric spit. “How else would you explain him putting you through college?”

“It was a loan,” Brady reminded him. “And between my unpaid internships and the cut I took on billable hours, I’ve repaid the firm.”

“You’re fired,” Eric decided, “and if you even think about going to Hasburgh, you’ll be in violation of our hiring agreement. I checked.”

The smirk on the other man’s face made Brady want to punch him.

Brady scowled at him, realizing he had no leverage. “So get ready to sue me. I’m telling Hasburgh.”

He spun around and stalked out before he gave into the urge to throttle Eric. Blinded by rage, he crashed into someone.

“Easy there, son,” a deep voice rumbled.

Focusing, Brady realized that the person he collided with was none other than Keith Hasburgh.

“What are you doing here?” Brady blurted out.

“I wanted to talk to you and your secretary was kind enough to lead me here.”

Keith jerked his head back, pointing to where Lara stood in the hallway, a self-satisfied smile lighting up her face.

Brady had to stifle a chuckle when she winked at him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eric appear in the doorway.

“Mr. Hasburgh?” The other lawyer’s voice squeaked like that of a frightened schoolboy.

Brady couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re the one who’s fired, Junior,” Keith informed him matter-of-factly.

“But,” Eric protested weakly.

“Shut up before I bring you up before the board or whoever it is you report to.”

“The Bar Association,” Brady supplied helpfully.

Keith rubbed his hands together as though something wonderful had just occurred to him. “Shut up before I hire Brady here to report you to the Bar Association.”

Eric paled and snapped his mouth closed.

Clapping a hand on Brady’s shoulder, Keith added, “I’m looking for in-house counsel and it would appear you’re looking for a job. What do you say?”

Behind the old man, Lara nodded her head vigorously, encouraging him to accept the offer.

“I can’t start right away. Can I have a little time?”

“Sure.”

“But in the meantime, I’d like to hire my secretary,” he nodded to Lara, “and my associate Gerald. I assure you, they’re both top-notch.”

“Done.”  Keith eyed him speculatively. “What do you need the time for?”

“I have to see where I stand with a girl,” Brady confessed.

Keith grinned. “That matchmaker must really know her stuff.”

“She might,” Brady agreed.

On the way home from the bank, Amy called Diego and left a message explaining what she’d found and that she needed a VCR.  By the time she got back to her apartment, he was standing on the landing, chatting with
Roscoe
and eating brownies.

“You gotta try these,” Diego said through a mouthful of food. “They’re amazing.”

Roscoe thrust a plateful of chocolate goodness under her nose. “Take one.”

“Did you get my message?” she asked Diego, lifting a chocolate square to her mouth.

“Right there.” Diego tilted his head toward the floor where a VCR lay.

“Oh. My. God.” Amy closed her eyes to fully appreciate the flavors on her tongue. “Heaven on a plate.”

“Best damn brownie you ever had, right?” Diego filched another as he spoke.

Opening her eyes, Amy stared at Roscoe, who ducked his head as though embarrassed by the praise. “Where’d you learn to bake like this?”

“Self-taught,” he admitted sheepishly.

A timer dinged in his apartment.

“Finish them,” Roscoe said, pushing the plate into Diego’s hands. “I’ve got to go take that out of the oven.”

He disappeared into his apartment, closing the door behind him.

“Dude has serious skills,” Diego murmured appreciatively.

“I had his cinnamon buns yesterday and they were almost as good,” Amy confided.

“C’mon, heiress, let’s see what’s on this mysterious tape of yours.” With his free hand, Diego picked up the VCR, taking care not to drop the brownies.

“Did you bring a TV?”

“I brought an adaptor.”

“But I don’t have a TV,” she reminded them, her voice rising along with her blood pressure.

Diego stared at her dumbly for a moment. “You didn’t tell me to bring a TV.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “I figured you’d remember I don’t own one.”

“Well I didn’t,” Diego snapped.

“Great. So we’ve got a tape and a player, but nothing to watch it on.”

“I’ve got a TV,” Roscoe called through his door.

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop,” Amy admonished.

Roscoe opened his door. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. You’re arguing outside my door.”

They couldn’t argue with that.

“Come in.” Roscoe waved them inside his apartment.

Amy checked out what was cooling on top of the stove while Diego hooked up wires to the back of the television in the living room.

“Eclairs?’ she guessed, eyeing the golden puffs of pastry.

“Uh-huh,” Roscoe agreed, rummaging inside his refrigerator.

“So you’re some kind of pastry chef?”

“Just a baker.”

“You’re a man of hidden talents, Roscoe.”

“Thank you.” His embarrassed grin made him look like a pleased little boy.

She wondered how she ever could have been afraid of the sweet giant.

“Ready,” Diego called from the other room.

“I’ll go for a walk so you can watch in private,” Roscoe offered.

Amy grabbed his hand before he could move away. “Stay. I could use all the friends I can get.”

“Then why isn’t Brady here?” he asked gently.

“I wish he was,” she admitted sadly, tugging him to follow her into his living room.

Three hours later, Brady knocked on Amy’
s door, holding a bouquet of roses.

The flowers had been his mother’s idea.

He’d gone to tell her how his job situation had changed and how he was going to pursue a future with Amy and that if she ever interfered again, it would be the last time she’d see him.

He’d been shocked when Mom had immediately begged for forgiveness, explaining that she was trying to protect him, but she was glad that he’d found someone he felt this strongly about.

Then she’d told him to make sure he brought flowers.

When Amy didn’t answer, he rapped his knuckles against the wood even harder.

“She’s not home,” Roscoe said, stepping out of his apartment. “They left.”

“They?”

“Her and Diego. She gave me the key to her place and asked me to take care of her cat. She wasn’t sure when she’s coming back.”

Feeling like a sucker punch had knocked the wind out of him, Brady sagged against the door.

Roscoe watched him carefully.

“Do you know where she was going?” Brady asked weakly.