Branded (5 page)

“This puzzle you want to solve isn’t a game.  It’s
my life.”

Shit.  “Of course.  I didn’t mean to trivialize
it.”  He softened his gaze and lowered his voice, going for the less alpha
approach.  “Really, I’d just like to help.  Even if all I end up doing is
offering you some moral support.”

She seemed to consider it, but then shook her
head.  “I have an attorney who is looking out for my interests.  Getting you
involved would only complicate matters.”

No
.  His mind raced for another slant, but
he was at a loss.  It looked like he’d have to run this game from the sidelines
which wouldn’t be nearly as easy.  “Can I give you my card in case you change
your mind?”

Several weighted seconds passed before she
answered.  “Sure.  But it’s unlikely I’ll call.”

He pulled the wallet from his coat pocket and
handed his card to her.  His fingers grazed hers as she took it, and he wished
he could take her hand in his one more time and feel her skin against him.  “I
hope you’ll change your mind.”

She slipped the card into the pocket of her jacket. 
“Goodbye, Xander.”

He studied her face, trying to memorize the shape
of her alluring green eyes and the curve of her jaw.  “Goodbye, Nicole. 
Whatever happens, I hope justice is served on the person who committed the
crime.”

She narrowed her eyes in a sincere gesture.  “Me,
too.”  Then she and Stormy walked away from him yet again.

He watched her leave, a hint of an unwelcome
feeling churning beneath the surface of his emotions.  The way she’d answered him,
the look she’d had in her eye almost made him think she might be innocent.

Almost.

*        *        *

Nicole sipped her cooling latte as she walked the
few blocks home.  The rich, spicy tea didn’t excite her tongue like it normally
did.  Instead, a tall, dark-haired man stole the attention away from her taste
buds.

She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the
episode that had taken place between her and Xander Secrist.  At first, he
seemed like such a pleasant person, coming to her rescue in the coffee shop. 
Even when he’d followed her outside, he’d seemed okay.  He was definitely her
type.  But she couldn’t possibly consider starting a relationship right now.

Plus, he’d been so reluctant to take no for an
answer.  Like weirdly so.  She glanced over her shoulder for the millionth time
to make sure he wasn’t following her.

The well-lit sidewalk was clear.

Maybe his efforts really had been because he’d
liked her.  She couldn’t deny she’d felt the spark of attraction, too.  Every
time he’d focused on her, the energy humming through her body had spiked.  His
height, the nice build of his body had all attracted her.  Not to mention, he
wore a suit.  Her favorite fantasies began with her slipping a tie from her
lover’s collar.

If he’d have come along even a week ago, she would
have been thrilled he’d flirted with her.  Things had changed.  If she survived
this ordeal, and she prayed she would, then she could think about something as
normal as dating.

As she approached her apartment building, she
recognized Janie sitting on the front steps.  Her friend sat with her head resting
against the railing, her eyes shut.

“Janie?” Nicole said as she reached her friend.  “Are
you okay?”

Janie opened her eyes, her lips struggling to
smile.  “I’m fine.  Long night at work last night, and I’m just gearing up for
another round.”  She nodded, inviting Nicole to sit next to her.  “Paul is on a
rampage, and it’s quieter out here.”

“I understand.”  Her boyfriend was an unmitigated
jerk.  She’d talked to Janie about leaving him before, but her friend tried to
explain how she wasn’t ready.  That kind of reasoning didn’t make sense to Nicole,
but she respected her friend’s choices.  “You know you could come up to my
apartment.”

“No.  I really am on my way to work.”  She glanced
at her watch.  “Five more minutes and then I’m off.”

“Okay.  But you know you’re always welcome.”

“I know.”  She turned her attention to Stormy.  “Come
give me a kiss, cute little puppy, before I have to go to work.”

Stormy gave her cheek a slobbery kiss, earning a laugh
from Janie.

Nicole talked to her friend until she left, and
then she started up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, Stormy happy to
walk dutifully beside her.  Weariness set in before she reached her floor.  How
did something like this happen to a person?  In the movies, yes.  In real life,
no.  Normal people did not get accused of crimes they didn’t commit.

Of course, she knew that wasn’t always the case. 
She’d heard the horror stories of those who’d been freed after twenty years of
incarceration when someone had finally been able to prove them innocent. 

A wave of nausea rolled through her.  There were
no go-backs, no giving those people back what had been stolen from them.  If
she were convicted, she could face twenty-five years in prison.

That was a lifetime. 

She entered her apartment and removed Stormy’s
leash before she sank onto her couch feeling dizzy, her heart thundering in her
chest.  In twenty-five years, she’d be fifty-six.  Nearly a senior citizen. 
There would be no marriage for her.  No babies.  The best part of her years
would have been spent inside a tiny prison cell.

She wouldn’t survive it.

With a shaking hand, she reached up and pushed her
bangs out of her face.

She’d always been good at keeping her chin up
despite life’s vicious turns.  But at this moment, she wasn’t sure she’d ever
be able to get off the couch again.

The time had come to quit hiding from life. 
Nicole had spent the past five days cleaning, watching TV, and living in the
shadows.  She hadn’t gone out except once when she was desperate for groceries. 
She’d donned dark sunglasses and a ball cap.  Thankfully, no one had bothered
her.

Today, she had a meeting with her attorney to
bring her up to speed on what had transpired.  The police still considered her
their number one suspect, and Mr. Barton wanted to clarify a few things.  Plus,
he’d finally obtained a copy of the security video she’d requested.

She dressed in non-descript clothes that wouldn’t
attract attention, but as she’d picked out her outfit, she considered
everything with an eye as to what might make her appear more innocent. 
Somehow, she had to convince the world she hadn’t taken that money.

She took the bus and arrived at the offices of Taylor,
Hunt and Barton a good twenty minutes before her scheduled time.  It seemed
strange to be using public transportation again.  Everything in her life had
changed the day she’d been taken in for questioning and subsequently lost her
job.

Inside the building, she rode the beautiful
mirror-plated elevator to the top floor of the high-rise in downtown Portland,
and stepped out into the richly-appointed brown and bronze waiting room. 

“Nicole Camden here to see Mr. Barton,” she said
to the young male receptionist.

He glanced up at her from his computer screen, his
clear gray eyes assessing her from behind black-rimmed glasses.  “Mr. Barton is
with another client.  If you’d like to take a seat, he should be with you
shortly.”

Nicole forced a half smile and nodded.  She hated
being constantly judged.  She sat next to a large palm, grateful for the
partial cover it gave her from the secretary’s condemning eyes.  One would
think with the number of questionable clients visiting the office, she wouldn’t
seem like such a spectacle.

A few minutes later, the door to one of the inner
offices opened, and Riley walked out.  As he neared her, he caught her
surprised glance and matched it with one of his own.

“Nicole?”

She stood, her lips curving into a warm smile.  It
had seemed like forever since she’d seen him, and a friendly face from a person
who knew her and wouldn’t judge her was a welcome relief.  “Riley.”  She walked
forward and hugged him.

He hugged her back before releasing her.  “How are
you doing?  I’ve been meaning to call you.”

She didn’t blame him for not calling.  He still
had his job at First Freedom, and it wouldn’t do either of them any good if he
was seen with her.  It might even cost him his job.  “I’m okay.  It’s been tough,
but I wanted to thank you for helping me by sending Mr. Barton.”

Riley nodded over his shoulder indicating their
mutual attorney.  “He’s a great guy and a very smart man.  If anyone can keep
you out of this mess, he can.”

“I have a lot of confidence in him.  He really
seems to know his stuff.”  She considered her friend for a moment.  “What are
you doing here?  You’re not in trouble, too, I hope.”

He shook his head.  “Boring family business.  My
dad asked me to drop by for a second.”  He took her hand and squeezed it.  “I’d
ask you to lunch today, but I have to get back to work.  How about next week?”

The look in his blue eyes seemed sincere, and she
wished more than anything she could spend the day with him.  It would do her a
world of good to have someone to talk with.  “I’d love to.”

“Okay, I’ll call you.  We could even do dinner or
something.”

“That would be nice.”  She might have to insist on
takeout to spare him the embarrassment, but it would be good to see him again. 
Plus, she could get the scoop on what was happening back at the office and find
out if people really believed she’d stolen all that money.

Mr. Barton looked as impressive today as he had
the first time she’d met him.  He welcomed her into his luxurious office.  The
massive dark wood desk and beige-colored walls were accented with minor
splashes of red in a painting and in the pillows that rested on a dark brown
leather couch.  A warm, spicy scent caught her attention and drew her gaze to a
reed atomizer resting near the back of his credenza.  Even the smell of his
office was rich.

“Have a seat, Nicole.”

She smoothed her dark gray pants as she sat across
the desk from him.

He pulled out a large file with her name typed on
a label at the edge.  She wanted to cry.  How could someone who’d led such a
quiet life have a file that size?  What could he possibly have in there?  “Have
you found anything that can help me?”

He glanced up, and she realized the salt and
pepper of his hair extended to his brows.  “I’m still studying their so-called
evidence with a magnifying glass, looking for a loophole.  I don’t think they’ve
got a chance in hell of proving you guilty.  Everything is circumstantial.”

She scooted forward to the edge of her chair. 
This was the best news she’d had in a long time.  “Explain exactly what
circumstantial means.  I mean, I think I know, but I’d like to hear it from
you.”

He laced his fingers together in front of him and
placed them on the oversized desk.  “Circumstantial evidence is where
everything they have against you makes you look guilty, but none of it is solid
evidence that proves guilt.”

“That’s good, then.”

“Short of there being no evidence, it’s a good
thing.”

“Can I see the video?  I’d like to know exactly
why they think it makes me guilty.”

“Absolutely.”  He opened the file and then
frowned.  The papers inside snapped as he flipped them, the lines on his
forehead deepening.  He picked up the phone.  “Where is the disc that was in Ms.
Camden’s file?”  He paused.  “It’s not here now.”  Another pause.  “Then I
expect you to locate it or get another copy from the police immediately.”

He hung up the phone, irritation ruffling his
usual smooth demeanor.  “I’m embarrassed to say that we seem to have misplaced
it.  My assistant is working on it right now.”

Her spirits sank.  She couldn’t help but feel the
one thing that made her appear guilty might also prove she wasn’t, and now she’d
have to wait even longer to view it.  There had been at least one other person
in her area that night—the actual thief—and it was quite possible the video
might show someone besides the two of them, someone who might have witnessed
the thief.  It didn’t even have to be a person on her floor.  Anyone, anywhere
in the building.  “Have you watched it?” 

“I did earlier this morning.”

“What did you think?”

“Besides the fact that it places you at the scene,
not much.”  He seemed to commiserate with her.

“Did the police say anything else?”

“I know they’re still investigating, and like I
said earlier, you still appear to be their number one suspect.”

“My aunt thinks I should hire a private
investigator.  She said if the police are solely focused on me, then they’re
not looking for the real thief.”

He waved away her concerns.  “I don’t know that an
investigator is necessary at this point.  You haven’t been charged yet.”

“Still, wouldn’t it be better to take a proactive
stance?  If the police aren’t looking at anyone else...”

“I’m not going to argue if you think it’s
necessary.  My assistant can give you the name of a man I highly recommend for
the job.  We’ve worked well together on cases before.”

“Do you know how much he charges?”  She really
needed to find a job.

Mr. Barton’s expression grew vague.  “That would
be something you’d need to discuss with him.  But if you’re going to go through
with this, you should give him a call.  In fact, I think I have his number in
here.”  He clicked his computer mouse a few times before writing a name and
number on a piece of paper and handing it to her.

She sighed, frustrated and confused.  “I
don’t
really know what to do at this point.”

The dimples in his cheeks creased as he smiled.  “Try
not to worry, Nicole.  The police won’t press charges until they believe they
have enough evidence against you.  Right now, you’re sitting pretty.”