Ellie Ashe - Miranda Vaughn 02 - Dropping the Dime (10 page)

"I can't believe that," he said. "Is there a man in your life?"

"Oh, shit!" Finn hissed.

"Shhh!" I said. I wondered how I was going to explain to Rob that we sent Kathryn into such an awkward situation. Maybe he knew of a good employment attorney who could take on her sexual harassment case.

"No, I'm single," Kathryn said. "Guess I'm just married to my job."

Simon's gentle laugh echoed through the van. "I can understand that. Since my wife died ten years ago, I've poured all my passion into the company. There wasn't any left over for a personal life."

More rustling.

"Until now."

The blood rushed from my head at the long silence that followed Simon's declaration.

"Oh, no," I whispered.

"Oh, shit," Jake said at the same time.

He turned the volume up and squinted at the screen. Finn turned in his seat completely. "What's going on? Did we lose the mic?"

"Oooooooh." Kathryn's moan echoed through the van like it was being broadcast. A wet smacking noise followed.

"Hmmmm." Simon's deeper moan pierced my brain.

"What the fuck!" Jake jabbed at the volume turning down the sounds while I wondered if there was any possible way to scrub my brain of the image forming in my mind. We could still hear the rustle of cloth against microphone loud and clear.

"Maybe it's not what we think—" I said, knowing it was exactly what we were thinking.

The sound of a zipper cut off my words and my hands flew to my mouth as the van filled with the moans of an amorous accountant and her possibly corrupt boss.

"No!" I gasped.

How had this happened? Kathryn had her orders. She'd been briefed. At no point was she told to start making out with her boss.

"You have to stop her," Jake said, reaching for the door handle.

"Me? Why me?"

He looked down at the holster on his belt and then back at me.

"Right. Fine."

He yanked the door open and pushed me out of the van. I ran toward the side door where the cleaning crew had been coming in and out of the building. Once inside, I wracked my brain to remember the floor plan Kathryn had given us that morning. I took the elevator to the second floor and started toward the corner office where Kathryn was having indecent relations with her employer. Then I stopped in my tracks.

I couldn't just burst in. I mean, I could, but it would be hard to explain why I was dragging Kathryn out. Still, I had to get her out somehow. I started moving again toward the double doors.

As I passed a hallway, I heard faint sounds of music coming from an open bathroom door and saw a large gray housekeeping cart. A yellow smock from the cleaning company was draped over the handle, and I hesitated only a second before I pulled the cart slowly out of the side hall and turned it toward Mr. Leonidis's executive suite. I slipped the smock on and pushed the cart down the hall.

I took a deep breath in front of the doors and steeled myself for what I might see on the other side. Before my nerve left me, I turned the handle and shoved the door open, pushing the cart in front of me.

Kathryn lay back on a massive desk, sprawled beneath the silver-haired CEO. Both looked up, alarmed at the intrusion. Kathryn's glasses were askew and her cardigan was on the floor by the desk. Thankfully, her mock turtleneck was still on.

"Oh, my apologies," I said, keeping my head down and backing out of the room. I glanced up and made eye contact with Kathryn, who was scrambling off the desk. I tried to telepathically communicate with her—
Get out now!

I shut the door behind me and hurried down the hall to return the cart and the smock, and then I waited by the elevators just around the corner and out of view from Simon's office. Every few seconds, I peeked around the corner.
Where was she?

The door opened and Kathryn emerged, pulling her sweater on and hurrying toward me. My breath left my lungs in a rush, and I jabbed at the elevator button impatiently. I couldn't wait to get out of here.

The elevator doors opened, and Kathryn and I stepped in. She was still rearranging her clothing and weaving slightly. As soon as the doors closed behind us, I turned to her.

"What the hell, Kathryn?"

"He always hits on me. I thought maybe I should take advantage of that. You know, use it to our advantage." Her face was flushed, and her voice was breathless.

"Well, how far were you going to go with that plan? I mean, you were eventually going to get down to your microphone and transmitter, and the gig would be up."

Her nervous giggle filled the elevator. "I hadn't thought of that. I didn't expect it to go as far as it did. I thought if I pushed him away, he'd never tell me. At least he wasn't a bad kisser."

I groaned and would have smacked my head against the closed doors, but they were opening to let us out into the empty lobby. I pulled Kathryn toward the hall where I'd found the side entrance.

"Jesus," I muttered. "We have to get you a man. One who is not a fraudster."

"Hmm, maybe that IRS agent with the sexy accent?"

"Buchanan? I think he's married." I was just spit-balling at that point, trying to keep Kathryn focused on the operation, not on the agents.

"What about that hunky Agent Barnes?"

Crap
.

"What? No! I mean, he's gay." It would have to do—I'd already used the married excuse.

"Really?"

"Yep. Gay, gay, gay."

We left the building and hurried toward the van. The door flew open as I reached for the handle, and we were greeted with two red faces. Finn's expression was one of barely suppressed glee. Jake, on the other hand, looked like he was on the verge of a murderous rampage.

He reached for Kathryn and helped her into the van. I followed, shutting the door behind me. There was barely any room, but Kathryn managed to unfasten the recording device and pull it from her shirt.

Jake took it from her, shooting me another rage-filled look.

"Ending consensual recording of Kathryn Hammond and Simon Leonidis," he said into the microphone, his voice clipped and cold. He clicked on the keyboard, ending the recording then looked back at me with narrowed eyes.

Oops
.

"Was there anything you can use?" Kathryn asked.

"We'll review it later and let you know if we need to do another attempt," Finn said from the front seat.

"He didn't say the words," Jake said.

"I can try again," Kathryn offered.

I couldn't tell if she was eager to help the FBI arrest Simon, or if she wanted another pass at him. Was I going to have to hose her down?

"We'll talk next week," Finn said. "Thanks for your help, Kathryn. You did good. Why don't I drive you home?"

She smiled and pulled her keys out of her purse and handed them to Finn.

"I'll be there in just a moment," he said, helping her out of the van after making sure it was clear. The three of us sat in silence for a few minutes while she walked to her car.

"Gay?" Jake hissed at me.

"What was I supposed to do? She seemed a little, you know, revved up. Was I supposed to just let her loose in your direction?"

"So that was your idea of a save?"

"I panicked. And it's not my fault I forgot about the transmitter. Why are you so angry I told Kathryn you're gay?"

Jake exhaled slowly and shook his head then began working on the laptop again, shutting down programs. Finn checked the time then made some notes on a clipboard.

"That's not what this is about," Jake said, his voice dangerously low. "Kathryn's spontaneous fling may have just torpedoed the case. At the very least, we may not get a second chance to get Leonidis on tape. And frankly, your improvisation doesn't make my work life easier."

"Sorry," I whispered to Jake. "Don't see what the big deal is, but I guess if you work with immature jerks, it could be a problem."

"Oh, come on, Barnes. It's not that bad," Finn said, opening the door. "You'll live it down eventually. It'll just get transcribed and sent out to the U.S. Attorney's Office in our report, then given to the grand jury, and then to the defense attorneys. And of course, I'll make sure all the guys at your office get copies."

Finn chuckled to himself as he closed the van's door behind him.

Jake turned and glared. "I work with immature jerks."

"Oh, well, sorry."

Rob sat behind his desk, his head sinking deeper into his hands as I told him how Kathryn's undercover operation had gone. When I finished, his forehead was resting on both hands, his elbows on the desktop.

"Good God almighty. Did anything go right?"

I thought about that before answering.

"Well, Agent Boylan couldn't ride in the van with us. So that's a win, as far as I'm concerned. But as for the case, no. Nothing good came of it."

Rob blew out a deep breath and pushed himself away from the desk.

"All right. I'll talk to Barnes and Buchanan, see where we go from here."

"Okay. In the meantime, I'll save my report in Kathryn's file," I said, standing to return to my desk. "Oh, and how was your weekend away?"

Rob's face lit up with a smile. "It was very nice, thank you for asking. And thanks again for agreeing to accompany Kathryn so Marie and I could get away to the cabin."

"Of course," I said.

It was worth the trouble Saturday night to see Rob and Aunt Marie so happy. Plus, it was a whole weekend when I didn't have to worry about accidentally walking in on something I really didn't want to see. It was just me and Kvetch hanging out all weekend, and I had the scratches on my forearms to prove it.

Before I could escape Rob's office, Theresa blocked the door. "The feds are back."

I peered around her and saw Jake and Finn standing in the lobby. Standing side-by-side, they nearly filled the small room.

"Show them in," Rob said, motioning for me to stay. He stood and greeted the agents, shaking hands with them and pulling chairs away from a cluttered side table so they could sit.

"What brings you two here this morning?" Rob asked, his voice neutral, but his expression cautious.

Jake glanced my way, then back to Rob. "You heard about Saturday?"

Rob nodded. "Miranda just filled me in."

"It wasn't great," Jake said.

Finn snorted. "It was a fucking nightmare." Then he turned to me. "I apologize for my language, Ms. Vaughn."

"Nope, you're right. No apologies necessary." What else did you call an undercover informant making out with the target of the investigation?

"What does that mean for the investigation?" Rob asked. "And specifically, Ms. Hammond's role in it?"

Finn leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees. His face was thoughtful and serious.

"We have some questions about Ms. Hammond. About whether she might have other motives in turning in her boss," Finn said.

I looked between the three men, puzzled. What possible other motive could Kathryn have? Once her boss got indicted, she'd lose her job. The control of the business would go to the Leonidis kids, not to her.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Rob said, eyeing the agents warily.

"It's highly suspicious that she threw herself at Simon Leonidis while wearing a wire," Finn said. "That little snafu is going to come out if there's a criminal case filed, you know. It could sink our case against him."

Rob nodded. "Yes, it's not great, but my understanding is that he made the first move."

I glared at Jake and nodded. "Kathryn didn't throw herself at him. He threw himself at her. She just didn't get out of the way."

Jake snorted, and Finn frowned.

"Either way, it doesn't look good. She could be trying to obstruct the investigation into her boss, maybe at his behest."

I squinted at the agents. "Are you crazy? That's the stupidest plan I could imagine. You think she and Simon Leonidis schemed to have Kathryn turn incriminating evidence over to the IRS and the FBI, so that they could then tank the case?"

Rob leaned back in his chair. "I have to agree with Miranda. That does sound far-fetched. And Kathryn Hammond isn't exactly a criminal mastermind."

Jake and Finn exchanged a look then Finn nodded.

"Kathryn Hammond recently withdrew a large sum of money from her personal accounts," Jake said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

Rob shrugged. "That means nothing. She could be buying a car, a house, making an investment."

Jake frowned. "She made an investment. It's a company called KAL, Inc."

Rob looked at me, and I shook my head. It wasn't a company I was aware of, but my stomach churned in apprehension.

"How much did Kathryn invest?" I asked.

"She wrote the company a check for two-hundred thousand dollars," Finn said. "She didn't tell you about this?"

Rob shook his head. "Let's not get into the area of what my client may or may not have told me."

"Of course. Can you get her to clear it up?" Finn asked. "We'd like to keep using her as a source on this investigation, but we need to know what's going on. If we can't trust her then we're going to cut her loose. And that means the immunity agreement is going to go away, and if she played any role in this, we're not going to ignore that."

"I'll talk to her," Rob said, standing. "Thanks for stopping by, gentlemen."

Jake and Finn took the hint and stood.

"I look forward to hearing from you," Jake said.

"I'll be out of town starting late this week, but if there're any issues, Miranda will be able to get hold of me," Rob said. "Make sure and get her contact information."

I nodded and tried to keep my face neutral, but this was the first I had heard of Rob's plans to leave town.

"I'll get you a card," I said, heading toward my desk.

Jake followed me, but Finn and Rob headed toward the lobby. The area I shared with Sarah was empty except for the two of us, and that knowledge made my stomach jump a little.

"Do you trust Kathryn?" Jake asked, his voice low.

I glanced up at him, met his intense look.

"Yes, I do. I don't think she is trying to torpedo the investigation into Leonidis," I said.

He looked doubtful. "The family's got a lot at stake. All of their jobs, all of their money is wrapped up in this business. Maybe someone else is pressuring her."

I thought about the family members I'd seen.

"I saw Simon and his children this weekend and frankly, I just don't think they hang with Kathryn," I said.

"Where did you see the Leonidis family?"

"At a party, at the Bishop Ranch," I said.

Jake's gaze became more intense. "What were you doing there?"

I crossed my arms and leaned against my desk. "I was a guest. Quinn Bishop invited me. Us. The whole office."

Jake's expression turned hard at the mention of Quinn's name. He leaned toward me.

"Quinn Bishop?" he asked, his voice low.

I nodded. "He's a friend of Rob's."

"He's a former client of Rob's," Jake corrected me.

"So what? That was a long time ago," I said.

Jake frowned. "Be careful, Miranda."

"Why? He's not dangerous. He runs a ranch with his family."

"What do you know about him?"

"I know he pleaded guilty, served two years in prison, and moved on with his life," I said.

Why did it matter to me what everyone thought of Quinn? I barely knew him.

Jake shook his head. "Yeah, well there's more to it than that."

"What?" I asked, now more curious than angry.

He crossed his arms. "Ask your boss."

I couldn't do that, not without raising questions. There was no reason to poke around in Quinn's past beyond what Rob had already offered. But my curiosity was piqued.

"Why don't you tell me?" I asked.

He paused then shook his head. "If you're going to get involved with him, just be careful."

"What makes you think I'm getting involved with him? I just met Quinn. And why do you even care?" I asked, trying to keep my voice low so Theresa couldn't hear me. "You were pretty adamant that we were not involved."

Jake tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, and I saw the muscles in his jaw jump. When he looked down at me again, he looked thoroughly exasperated.

"There was a good reason why I couldn't talk to you during the investigation," he said.

"And after that? You know where I live. Where I work."

He rubbed his forehead and frowned.

"I wanted to call you, but I was assigned to a fugitive apprehension team. It got busy," he said. "I remembered your birthday. Don't I get points for that?"

I faltered at the memory of the sweet and unexpected birthday present, left in my car on December 24. My anger slipped away, and I struggled to maintain a facade of righteous indignation. I had been dreading my thirty-second birthday, but finding Jake's present made it the first birthday I'd enjoyed in a while.

"Well—uh—" I started, but it was too late. Jake smiled at my speechlessness.

"Good. I'm glad you liked it."

He grinned and leaned down, close enough that I felt his breath on my cheek.

"Stay out of trouble," he said, his voice low and dangerous in my ear. "I mean it, Miranda."

I bit my lip and looked up at him. So close. So hot. So…concerned?

"And stay away from Quinn Bishop," he said.

He plucked a business card from the holder on my desk, and then he turned and walked out to the lobby. I watched him go, a tingly sensation in my gut.

Quinn inspired strong reactions from people, but not the same kind of reactions. Rob, Sarah, and the rest of the office clearly adored him, as did a lot of the people who came to the ranch last weekend. But others were ready to write him off because of his past. That just didn't seem fair to me.

But what did I really know about him?

I sat at my desk and stared at my computer screen. The answers were all there, right in front of me, in the law firm's electronic archives. I clicked on the server link, and a window popped open with a neat column of closed case names. Near the top was Bishop, Quinn.

The files contained all the documents related to each case—every pleading, every letter, every memo. Every bit of confidential information about a client's life, background, health issues, personal struggles.

I bit my lip as my mouse hovered over the folder. It was an invasion of his privacy. I had no reason to go looking into Quinn's secrets except my own curiosity.

A text popped up on my phone, and I welcomed the distraction from my moral dilemma. I read the message, a growing mix of unease and anticipation roiling in my stomach.

Still up for a day in the country? I promise no ponies will terrorize you. Call me. Quinn

Oh, boy.

A fleeting thought of Jake's warning caused me a moment's pause before I responded. I still didn't know if he was warning me off because Quinn was actually bad news, or if he just didn't want me seeing someone else. The last one didn't make too much sense, since Jake wasn't making any move toward seeing me outside the confines of Kathryn's undercover work. I responded before I could think too much about my decision.

How about Thursday?

I looked back at the file with Quinn's name on it. Maybe I should just take a peek to know who I'd be spending the day with.

Quinn's response came in seconds.

I'll pack a lunch. Wear something you don't mind getting dirty
.

My core body temperature shot up several degrees at the thought of getting dirty with Quinn.

What was wrong with me? It was like that time in Belize with Jake had opened the floodgates on my libido. I'd been pining for him for six months with very little encouragement from him. Of course, at first it was because we were both witnesses to a crime, and the case was pending. But that wrapped up by Thanksgiving, and after delivering me the news, Jake had disappeared.

He resurfaced, barely, around my birthday, delivering that sweet and surprising birthday gift. But even then, I hadn't seen him leave the present in my car.

And now, he was back in my life but still tantalizingly out of reach. As Rob had pointed out, a romantic relationship between Kathryn's FBI handler and her legal representative, even though I wasn't her lawyer, would be thorny. Maybe chemistry just wasn't enough. Timing was vital. It was everything.

I swallowed hard and turned back to the computer files. What to do about Quinn?

I quickly double-clicked the icon before I lost my nerve.

The folder held one memo, dated six years prior. A form memo that Theresa had put in the older cases when the firm switched computer servers, indicating that the files were preserved in paper form only and were in storage. A box number indicated where the file could be found in the warehouse.

Damn
.

How could I pull his paper file from storage? It would be easy enough to find the box I'd need, but I had no excuse to go to the warehouse where the old files were kept. Theresa usually handled that, and even then, it wasn't too common to need those files.

I drummed my fingers on the desk, staring at the box number for a long time, knowing that even if I didn't want to, I wouldn't be able to forget the short string of numbers and letters. Knowing that with my complete lack of self-control, if there were any opportunity to get to the warehouse, I'd probably give in to my curiosity and look in Quinn's file.