Asking for Trouble (20 page)

“I wasn't aware Evan put you on deadline.”

“Not Evan. Suffice it to say I'm trying to stave off any federal involvement. The sooner I can get them out of town, the better. Putting a stop to Nemesis should do exactly that.”

“Feds, huh?” Jackson lifted his bottle. “What possible interest could they have in Nemesis?”

“Hell if I can figure it out. But this case is so strange, I can't help but feel I'm not seeing something I should, like all the information is out of focus and I need a new set of eyes to see it clearly.”

“Maybe you're focusing too much and need a break. Today should help you see things clearer come Monday.”

“Let's hope you're right. I've been meaning to ask you, are you acquainted with a man named Mac Price?”

“Mac?” Jackson's eyebrows shot up. “Yes, actually, I am. He was one of my first investors back when I was starting my business. Once upon a time we lived in the same neighborhood down south.” Jackson lowered his chin and shook his head as if in regret, even as his lips curved into a smile. “Easy to forget those days. Mac was always a lot of fun; dangerous, even. Last I heard he was serving time in Soledad prison for a string of white-collar cons. Man could charm the white off rice. Why do you ask?”

Gage shrugged. “No reason, really. How about an FBI agent named Kolfax? He was investigating Price at one time.”

“Kolfax?” Her father quirked his head, frowned. “The name's familiar. With the financial world the way it is, I've had more interaction with the Feds lately than I have in the past. It's possible I've spoken with him. Why?”

“Nothing. Just one of those things running in my head. Any idea where Morgan got to?”

Morgan jumped out of sight as both Gage and her father looked up to her window. She dug into a bottom drawer for a lightweight sweater, then tugged it on. Gage wasn't the only one on a deadline.

The question was, which one of them would run out of time first?

***

“Guess we have to get back to the real world.” Gage rolled out of Morgan's bed Monday morning just as the sun made its return appearance.

Morgan burrowed into his pillow, drawing his residual warmth as close as possible, snuggling as if settling in for a long winter.

“Best weekend ever,” she all but hummed, but she could feel the gears in her mind clicking into their familiar overworked state even as a satisfied smile curved her lips. After an early morning walk to the park, they'd spent the rest of Sunday finishing up the repair list Gina had pilfered from Morgan's clipboard, before introducing the kids to the tire swing. They, like Morgan, thought it was the best invention ever. Ah, the simple things in life. Watching Gage play catch with Brandon or tossing Kelley into the air had been beautiful, but it was when he sat down for a long conversation with Drew that locked her heart away forever.

She'd almost cried when she heard Drew laugh, then did when he shoved his hair out of his face.

Gage was right. Fantasy couldn't last forever. That didn't mean she wouldn't try to hold on to it as long as she could.

Gage bent down and placed a warm kiss on her neck, and lingered long enough for her to reach for him. “Mmmmm. Come back to bed.”

His low laugh made her insides tremble like a ten-point aftershock. “Can't. I've already put Bouncer off long enough. I need to get my head around work and not”—he kissed her quick and hard—“be distracted. Why don't you stay right where you are.”

As if considering Gage's request a challenge, Morgan's calendar alarm blared its Beethoven-based reminder about her morning appointments and phone calls. Morgan slapped her hand on the nightstand, but Gage had hitched into his pants and picked up her phone first, frowning as he skimmed her schedule.

“Christ, Morgan. Did you leave yourself time to breathe?”

“Gimmie.” She waved her fingers as she came more fully awake. Given the week she had in front of her, she didn't want to start the day with a lecture on her overscheduled life.

“Today's bad enough, but you've booked all but five minutes tomorrow starting with a breakfast meeting with Kent, and I'm assuming by breakfast you mean coffee, bank deposit at eleven, final contract meeting with Vanity Cleaners, phone appointments with, what is that, six different doctors? We couldn't wedge a two-second kiss into this schedule with a crowbar.”

“You were warned.” Morgan pushed herself out of bed and plucked her phone out of his lax fingers as she headed into the bathroom. “And don't try a repeat distraction of Saturday morning. I'm locking the door.”

By the time she emerged, the euphoria of the weekend had evaporated with the shower steam, replaced by the reality that in the next two days, the foundation would either thrive or be buried under a public scandal of mismanaged funds.

She buttoned the last two buttons on her lavender shirt, zipped and twisted her knee-length black skirt around, and headed into the kitchen where Gage held out a mug of coffee. “Thanks.” She inhaled the steam and felt the caffeine zing through her system as she lifted her heavy damp hair from beneath her collar, then beelined for her computer for her morning email check. As she switched her screen on, her gaze fell to the blank space on her desk.

Her stomach dropped like a deflated basketball after a game-losing shot.

She slammed her mug down and ignored the splatter of coffee on the back of her hand as she shoved the stack of folders aside, lifted them up, and pushed her cup of pens aside.

“Lose something?”

“Um. There was a stack of white notecards here.” She tapped the empty space where the cards from Nemesis had been. The space that suddenly felt like a black hole. She tucked her hair behind her ear, then dropped to her knees to look on the floor and peer under the desk, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “Did you take them?”

“No. I'm sure they're here somewhere.” He came over, pulled open the bottom desk drawer. “I'll help you look.”

“No!” She slammed shut the drawer that held the last of the Nemesis cash and almost caught his fingers. She forced out a laugh, but it sounded more like she was choking on the air she couldn't find. “I'm sorry, I just meant, it's okay.” But she knew her eyes had to be spinning like a UFO coming in for a landing. Staving off the dizziness, she pinched the bridge of her nose until she saw stars. Too close. “I'm sure they're here somewhere. I'll find them myself. I don't need help.”

The chill that erupted down her spine had little to do with Nemesis' missing cards and everything to do with the icy stare Gage leveled at her. “And even if you did, you wouldn't ask.”

Morgan closed her eyes. “That's not what I meant. We both have busy days and neither one of us has time—”

“It's too early for bullshit, Morgan.” His words sounded as bitter as the coffee in the mug he set in the sink. “Say you want to do it yourself, remind me you need to do everything on your own, but don't make shit up. Don't ever lie to me, Morgan.”

She might have laughed if she didn't think he might have her committed when she couldn't stop. Don't lie? She'd been lying to him from the moment they'd met.

“And don't expect me to change overnight,” she snapped back, and earned a cool arch of his eyebrow in response.

She let out a long breath, dug fingers into her hair as she tried to settle her riotous pulse. Where the hell were those cards? The last time she'd seen them was right before she and Gage had—

“You're sure you didn't take them?” Try as she might, she couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice.

“I did not, and since it's obvious you aren't going to tell me what's so all-fired important about those precious cards, I'll leave you to your search.”

“Gage, please don't leave angry.” She didn't want the weekend to end this way. The coffee threatened to rocket up into her throat like acid.

He stopped, hand on the doorknob, his bag dangling from his hand as he turned his head and looked at her, disappointment shining like dulled coins. “I thought this weekend taught you that you don't have to handle everything on your own.”

“It did teach me that. You taught me that. They're just stupid cards. You're overreacting.” But she couldn't pry herself from beside the desk, not when Nemesis had her so tied up in knots she couldn't move. “I'm trying, Gage. Please believe that. I am trying.”

“Try harder.” And then he was gone.

“Shit.” Morgan spun on her bare feet, twisting this way and that, looking through every folder. She dug through every drawer, tossed the twenty-five thousand in cash Gage had nearly found aside, but to no avail. She sat against the desk feeling as if she'd taken a body shot of Novocain.

The cards were gone.

“Good weekend, Gage?” Janice's cheery greeting kicked up the gas on Gage's anger meter. “So not the expression I expected to see on your face this morning, given that you're an hour late.”

Rather than incur her wrath by issuing a rude response, Gage lifted his extra-large coffee cup in acknowledgment and proceeded into his office, drawing on every ounce of control to resist slamming the door.

What should have been a quick stop at his house turned into a thirty-minute soak in a lukewarm shower, during which he reminded himself who Morgan was, who she'd always been. She was used to taking everything on herself. She didn't trust anyone to help her. While he'd hoped this weekend had been a turning point, it felt more like a failed intervention.

Stupid cards, whatever they were. She didn't even trust him to tell him that much. Forget banging his head against a brick wall. Morgan was reinforced concrete.

“Did I take your cards? No, I didn't take your goddamned cards. Almost lost my fingers trying to find them for you, but hey, what's a hand in the grand scheme of things. What?” he bellowed as he paced by his door.

The doorknob turned, and the door opened less than an inch as Bouncer poked her head inside.

This woman had chased down drug runners and carjackers, been thrown out a second-story window, and survived a motorized encounter with a speeding Cutlass, but at this moment she looked pre–training academy pee-her-pants anxious.

“Yeah.” Gage let out a long breath, pushed Morgan's irritating self-sufficiency out of his mind, and waved his teammate inside. “Sorry. Shitty morning. What's up?” When she stepped inside, Gage noticed she was sans crutches. “They put you in a walking cast already?”

She gave him a tentative smile. “I went to the emergency room and told them I couldn't stand it anymore, threatened to use a rusty hacksaw if they didn't take it off. Are you sure now is okay?”

“It's fine.” Somehow he needed to find a way to separate his personal life from his professional one. This wasn't the last fight he'd have with Morgan. Taking his frustration out on his coworkers would make him the boss everyone loathed to be around. “Sit. Can I get you some coffee?”

“I've already had three cups this morning. That's my limit.”

Gage continued to stand, the rustling of papers in Bouncer's hands a telltale sign of nerves. “Okay, let's have it. Does this have something to do with Van Keltin?”

She rubbed fingers across her forehead. “Um, we're still working that angle, actually. This is something else. But with the mood you're in, I'm not sure how you're going to take it, which is why I thought I should give this to you privately.”

Gage felt as if a heavy metal band had taken up residency at the base of his skull. “Let's go with the Band-Aid method and rip this off. Out with it.”

“Okay. Well, seeing as we still don't know exactly what case the FBI is working on, I don't know if they're pulling your chain or if there's something to this.” She winced and handed him the two stapled pages. “It's a list of search warrants Agent Kolfax has applied for with a federal judge out of Los Angeles. Thirty-seven bank accounts at six branches of Federal Consolidated between here and L.A. He, um, should have the warrants by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Gage skimmed the names, some of them familiar, but nothing that got his pulse going. “I don't—”

“Next page.” Bouncer folded her hands in her lap before pressing her lips into a thin line.

He flipped the page, ran his thumb down the list, and felt the world drop away. “What the fuck?”

“That's what I said.”

“Why is Morgan's name on this list?” Was this what Kolfax had been up to this whole time? “And the Tremayne Foundation?”

“I don't know, which is why I kept calling you this weekend. I wasn't sure what to do, and then you, well, you told me to take the weekend off and I didn't want to ruin your plans so—” She shrugged. “Nothing they could have done on the weekend anyway.”

“This is bullshit.” And his fault. If he hadn't let himself get distracted, he'd have been here on Friday when the list came in. He could have gotten a jump on this sooner. His head spun like an orbiting astronaut off his tether.

“What are we going to do?”

“Find out what the hell is going on. Janice!” Gage headed to the door. “Sorry.” He should just make the apology for his shortness automatic from now on. “Let Evan know I'm on my way up to his office.”

“I think he's in meetings all morning,” Janice called after him as he stalked to the elevator.

“Tell him I don't care.” Elevator wasn't fast enough. He shoved through the door to the stairs and took them two at a time.

“What on earth is going on?” Janice asked Bouncer, who looked to Peyton and Rojas as they came out of the conference room.

“Whatever it is, we need to be ready to help.”

***

“Morgan, how nice to see you.” Randolph Morton swept into the snow white showroom of Curtis & Green Jewelers with a permanent smile etched on his face and a royal blue ascot around his neck. Randolph might look as if he'd stepped out of a 1960s Vincent Price horror movie, but when it came to the jewelry business in Lantano Valley, he had no rivals.

The sole owner and hands-on manager of the upscale store considered the West Coast Tiffany's, Randolph prided himself on providing the best, and more importantly confidential, service to his customers. While this storefront was a small one, his reputation for being able to get anything—or sell anything—for anyone was unrivaled.

She set her purse on the Atlas display case and greeted him with a kiss on each cheek, hoping Randolph's decades-long relationship with her mother would work to her advantage. “I appreciate you seeing me this morning. I know how busy you are and I'm sure I should have called for an appointment.”

“I am never too busy for one of Catherine's beautiful daughters. I miss you coming in to shop for her with your father.” A sad smile touched his lips as he tapped a finger against his heart. “She was a wonderful lady.”

“She was very fond of you as well.” Morgan waited a beat. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

“Yes, of course. Come into my office.”

Morgan followed him through the displays of Omega and Tag Heuer watches, Mikimodo pearls, and a selection of Paloma Picasso jewelry that jostled even Morgan's practical sensibilities.

“Please, sit.” Randolph indicated the plush purple leather seat across from him as he notified his floor staff he would be in a meeting. “What can I help you with?” He closed the heavy wooden door and joined her.

“I'm wondering if you might be interested in any of these pieces for your estate auctions.” She pulled out the velvet bag she'd used to transport her grandmother's jewels in. “I'm afraid I don't know much about jewelry, which I know would horrify Mom, but if you wouldn't mind taking a look?”

“Of course, of course.” He pulled out a velvet-lined tray. “This is why I love my job. I never know what beauteous items I might come across on any given day.”

Morgan didn't have the heart to tell him he needn't take such care with the drawstring bag that until a few hours ago had contained a hundred dollars worth of chocolate poker chips.

“Oh, my. Morgan, I recognize these. Your grandmother was one of my father's most faithful customers, and of course, these must be what she left you when she passed.” Randolph placed the seven bracelets in a single row, using his magnifying monocle to examine the stones Morgan prayed were real.

Morgan tried to stop her mind from ringing like a cash machine. She was so tired of hoping, only to be disappointed, but she couldn't help herself. These jewels were her last chance to save the foundation from ruin or at the very least scandal. She shifted in her chair, clenched her fists, and tried to put the morning's argument aside.

“Judging from these pieces, I'd say you could expect anywhere from five to fifteen thousand each. Maybe more depending on who participates in the auction. I could be sure to tweak the invitation list to ensure they bring in as much as possible. Both Victoria Bolton and Evelyn Cranston recently started antiques collections, and I think the competition could be quite beneficial for you as a seller.”

By the time he examined the three necklaces and the half-dozen brooches, Morgan felt her body lift as hope inflated her lungs. To hedge her bets, Morgan withdrew the small black velvet box from her purse and, after a last internal debate, passed her grandmother's engagement ring across the desk.

Randolph accepted it with a mixed look of sympathy and understanding. Soon after he said, “If we add all this up”—Randolph scribbled on his notepad—“you're looking at between one hundred thirty to one hundred fifty for the lot. If.” He held up a finger and smiled. “If we get that competitive bidding going.”

Morgan sagged in her chair. More than she'd expected, but she'd still need to use the Nemesis cash. She gnawed on her thumbnail. “Your next estate sale is scheduled for when?”

“Oh, not until the fall. We just closed our summer catalog offerings.”

Her expectation evaporated. Six months would be too late. She needed the money in two days.

“Not the answer you were hoping for, then?”

“No.” So close. She was so close to fixing everything, and yet she didn't want to part with her grandmother's treasures if they wouldn't bring her what she needed when she needed it. “No, I'm afraid it wasn't.”

Concern crossed Randolph's waxy botoxed face. “I don't suppose you want to confide the reason for the urgency.”

“I'd rather not,” Morgan admitted. She was so tired of lying. To everyone. To her family. To Gage. One more lie might just be her undoing. “I appreciate your time, Randolph.” She started to reach for the ring box.

“I'll tell you what I can do.” Randolph touched her hand. “That center of your mother's is coming along, is it not? And I imagine there's always something new cropping up that needs tending to. Seeing as how she was so dear to me, I do want to help. Let's say I buy these pieces from you now, for the prices I quoted you, and if they bring in less than that at auction, we'll consider the balance a charitable donation to the Center. Does that sound reasonable to you?”

Reasonable? She clasped her cameo in her palm, giving silent thanks for whatever otherworldly persuasion Catherine had wielded over Randolph. It sounded like the end to all of her problems. Dare she believe?

“That sounds quite reasonable.” Which left one issue. “Um.” How did she ask without sounding rude? “How soon could I expect a check?”

“Well, I'll need to do some fancy footwork with my accountant, but I think I could have one for you by this time tomorrow morning. Is that soon enough?”

It was all Morgan could do not to sob in relief. The iron band that had locked around her chest months ago clicked free. She wouldn't be able to breathe easy until she put the money back in the account. But for now? Yes, it would most definitely do.

“Thank you so much.” Seeing as she had a standing appointment with the bank branch manager at eleven tomorrow, that gave her plenty of time to make it across town.

“Excellent. In the meantime, should you change your mind—”

“I won't.” If only she could. They were things, sentimental perhaps, but her grandmother's jewels would do so much more good this way. She ran her finger along Granny's engagement ring one last time, saying good-bye to childhood dreams as she embraced the completion of new ones.

***

Gage plowed into Evan the second he opened the fourth-floor stairwell door.

“Janice said you were on a tear.” Evan caught his balance, rubbed a hand across his chest. “Office. Now.”

His boss's cool tone doused the fire that propelled Gage up two flights of stairs, as did the curious gawks and mutterings of Evan's office staff that followed the two of them.

“I've had it with Agent Jerk-Off,” Gage blasted as he stepped into Evan's office and found said agent inside, legs crossed, hands folded in his lap, an expression on his face that made him look like a seventies porn reject. “What the hell is this?” Gage threw the list of names into Kolfax's face.

“You saved me a call, Inspector,” Evan said, as if he felt the need to remind Gage of his position. Evan closed the door and took a slow seat behind his hideous mass-manufactured desk. “Agent Kolfax was about to read us in on his case.”

“How generous of him.” Goddamn Feds had to ruin everything they touched. They'd almost cost Gage his career, not to mention his life, but he'd be damned if he'd let them go after Morgan and the foundation.

“I'd make quick work of it, Agent.” Evan motioned for Gage to take a seat, which Gage refused. “You've been stalking my inspector long enough.”

Kolfax placed Gage's mangled list on Evan's desk, then handed Evan a new file, this one filled with two inches' worth of documents.

Evan went up ten notches in Gage's estimation when the D.A. didn't so much as blink in the file's direction.

“Eighteen months ago I was assigned a new case, a joint undercover investigation with the DEA—”

“You mean this doesn't have anything to do with your personal vendetta against Mac Price and his previous business relationship with Jackson Tremayne?” Gage demanded.

“No.” Kolfax's self-satisfied smirk had Gage seeing murder red. “No, this was an investigation into the Benetiz cartel.”

“South Miami,” Gage explained at Evan's non-reaction. “They have connections throughout South America. Take them down, the entire syndicate falls apart.”

“That was the plan,” Kolfax confirmed. “The BC is fast becoming the major supplier of cocaine in the United States. One of our agents managed to get in pretty deep, worked his way up to the number three position just as a huge shipment was due in to port. We wanted to get our hands on those drugs, stop them before they hit the street, so we set up a buy through our agent. Somehow his cover got blown and the bust went to hell.”