Authors: Shannon Curtis
Vicky nodded. “A minimal cash float was stolen, but I agree, Noah. I think they tried to make it look like a robbery gone wrong.”
“Maybe it was a robbery gone wrong. Just because they were the last to be seen with the doctor, who’s to say someone else didn’t come in after they left, and tried to rob the surgery?” Ryan suggested. He shrugged. “We might need to consider that.”
Vicky told herself he wasn’t questioning her judgment, or arguing her position, he was just being his normal, argumentative, thorough self.
Jerk
.
She drew devil’s horns on the rough likeness of Ryan she’d absently drawn.
“The surgery was wiped free of prints, with the exception of the inside door handle of the surgery, and Dr. Kruger’s spectacles. Some partials were found, enough for a match.” Reese took over the presentation. He indicated the folders they each held in their hands. “The reports are in your files. Jade Maxwell’s fingerprints were found on the frame, and Simon Maxwell’s fingerprints were found on the door handle. Neither is listed as patients, so we can safely assume they were the ones to destroy the patient records.”
Vicky swallowed. That damn woman had gotten close enough to her friend’s father to make him vulnerable to an attack. He must have trusted her, assumed she was safe. She wondered briefly how they’d managed to get close enough to Orla to do what they did, then purposely shut down that painful train of thought.
“Any idea where they might be hiding now?” Mike asked.
“No. These two are phantoms. They haven’t been caught for theft since Simon was released from prison. They never use the same name twice. We’re going to have to track down their associates. Someone gives them fake IDs, or knows where they hide.”
Maggie entered the room, looking pasty and wan. She gave a halfhearted smile as she made her way to her seat.
“So, we know the facts,” Reese said as he straightened in his seat at the head of the table. Vicky watched as Luke reached over to hold his wife’s hand. Maggie gave her a quick wink before turning her attention to Reese.
“While we have no evidence to tie the Maxwells to Orla Kruger’s attack, we believe they could be responsible, probably because Orla could identify them as the last patients of Dr. Kruger, and she’s seen their new faces. Unfortunately, any evidence of Orla’s attack was likely destroyed in the house explosion.” Reese turned to Ryan. “Can you tell us what exactly happened?”
Vicky stopped drawing to listen as Ryan relayed ‘the incident’, and Luke typed notes into his laptop. He stated things calmly, his tone impersonal and matter-of-fact. She steeled herself when he got to the part about finding Orla.
“Ultimate? Ultimate what?” Drew asked, when Ryan mentioned the bloodstained bath. “What do you think she meant? Ultimate peace in death? Ultimate evil, in reference to her attackers?”
“Ultima.” Vicky corrected, staring down at her notepad. “The word was Ultima. Not ultimate.”
“Maybe she...you know, passed out.” Drew shrugged apologetically.
“She was found alive. Let’s assume she finished what she was trying to write. Any ideas?” Reese asked.
“Ultima,” Maggie repeated quietly. “Italian for last. Any Italian connection?”
Vicky shook her head. “No. Her family was German.”
“Okay, so it’s probably not a personal connection. Which means she was referring to our killers in some way,” said Reese.
“Well, doing a quick search on Google,” Luke said, looking up from his laptop, “there are any number of references, from fantasy games, to bands, a couples’ resort—it could be anything.”
Reese leaned forward. “Let’s look at this practically. Two assumed felons, possibly recovering from facial plastic surgery. What do you do?”
“Travel could be an issue. If they’re still recovering then they probably can’t go too far. Airports have thorough screening, so they’d avoid flying,” Ryan said quietly.
“That kind of surgery wouldn’t come cheap. They could be broke. Maybe they need a new rich target,” Drew offered.
“So, they’d need rest and money,” Noah suggested.
“This couples’ resort looks like a good bet,” Luke said, staring at his screen. “Ultra posh. Listen to this. ‘Power up your career, your relationships, your life,’” Luke read aloud their slogan, then let out a low whistle. “And very, very expensive. They cater to ‘those who require the utmost discretion.’ Rich folks. Very rich, looking at their rates page. They have a fresh intake of couples each week for intensive group, couple and individual counseling and motivation—broken up with massages and spa treatments. There’s a new intake due tomorrow night.”
“Sounds like a good place to hide during the final stages of recovery for facial surgery,” Drew observed.
“Or to find your next mark,” Noah commented. “If I was in the habit of robbing from wealthy families, it could be a good place to get close enough to glean some information about their security measures, or get dirt for blackmail.”
Vicky nodded. That made sense. It could be the perfect hiding spot for the killing couple. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Recover, and set up your next target at the same time?
“This is an exclusive resort. I think our best approach is to send someone in undercover,” Reese said.
Vicky nodded in agreement, and she caught Ryan doing the same thing. Usually he was the undercover star, able to don a new persona as easily as donning a coat.
“What are you thinking? Housekeeping? Hospitality?” Drew cringed. “Janitor?”
Reese shook his head. “I don’t think so. The best way for them get some new blackmail material would be to cozy up to the guests, sit in on the therapy sessions. Housekeeping wouldn’t give them that access. The Maxwells can then approach on an equal level, pass themselves off as peers maybe. You won’t share personal information with a waiter, but you will with someone else in the same counseling group. So we’ll do the same. Ryan, you’re our resident chameleon. You’ll go in as a developer, wanting to ‘power up’ his business.”
“You’ll need a couple,” Vicky said absently as she drew a pirate’s patch on Ryan’s caricature head. The room was silent for a moment. Vicky looked up. They were all looking intently at her. Drew was trying to hide a smile behind his mouth, but she saw it.
“What?” Had she missed something? She closed her notebook with a snap.
Maggie heaved next to her.
Reese smiled at her. “Well, you’ve always said you wanted to do some fieldwork.”
Vicky gaped at him. Yeah, she’d told him at that, at every performance appraisal, and just before this meeting, but—with Ryan? She meant conducting interviews, investigative legwork...but posing as Ryan’s wife?
“Uh, well...” she paused. She would rather stick a hot poker in her eye than go undercover at a couples’ resort with Ryan.
“No.” Ryan’s flat negation had her frowning. “You can’t be serious, Reese. She has no experience in the field, let alone undercover.”
“Hey, I’ve had some training,” she protested.
“That’s right,” Drew commented. “I’ve taken her shooting. She actually hits the target now.”
“Well, normally I’d team you up with—” Reese stopped talking as Maggie again raced from the room.
“I think it’s last night’s salmon,” Luke said, before he followed her.
“Maggie,” Reese finished. He gestured to the door. “But, as you can see, that’s out of the question at the moment. Vicky will partner you for this case.”
Ryan frowned. “Wait, no! She could get herself killed. She’s got no experience.”
“What is it that you think I do around here, Ryan?”
Chapter Four
A brief silence fell after Vicky’s softly spoken question.
Noah closed his folder with a sharp snap. “I’m outta here. I’ll ask Jess if she can maybe organize a wardrobe for Vicky. If she’s going to mingle with the wannabe rich and powerfuls, she’ll have to look the part.” Noah beat a hasty retreat.
“I don’t know whether to run or stay,” Mal whispered sotto voce.
Drew folded his arms and leaned back. “Stay. It’ll be worth it.”
Vicky ignored their comments as she waited for Ryan to respond.
He held his hands out, palms up. “Come on, Vic. Be serious.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “I am being serious. I want to go into the field.” She was surprised to find herself speaking the truth, and not just trying to annoy Ryan. She wanted to find Karl Kruger’s killer. She wanted to find whoever had hacked at her close friend and left her for dead. Everyone around here treated her like a glorified receptionist. She wanted respect. Most of all, she wanted Ryan’s respect.
Ryan laughed. “Aw, come on, you’re not an agent.” He stopped laughing when he realized she was serious. “But...”
Vicky narrowed her gaze. “So help me, if you say—”
“You’re our Moneypenny. You stay...here. Where it’s safe.”
Vicky gaped at him. Drew was making a choking sound in the background. She ignored it and shook her head in disbelief.
He’d said it.
“You said it.” She looked over to Reese, who was intently reading the file in his hands, as though it contained new and exciting information.
She turned back to glare at the infuriating, gorgeous man across the table.
“So I’m just some secretary for you to flirt with, whenever you’re in town?”
“No!” Ryan frowned. “Of course not. I don’t... We don’t... You—you make travel arrangements.”
Vicky recoiled, as though he’d slapped her in the face. Maybe it was the emotional drain of finding her friend in the bathtub, or narrowly escaping being blown into tiny pieces, or maybe it was exasperation at constantly trying to prove herself to Ryan. Either way, she didn’t have the patience for this rubbish. Her hands met the table with a loud smack, and she slowly rose to her feet. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the rim of the table, clinging to control. She wanted to smack the smirk off his face, clear into the next century. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t smirking, but she wanted to remove his stunned expression and have it replaced with...something else.
“Tell me, was arranging the Black Hawk extraction from Nicaragua a ‘travel arrangement’?” she asked sweetly, using her fingers to parenthesize the words.
“Uh, no,” Ryan began slowly. Warily.
“Was delivering all the weapons and disguise components you requested for Moscow a ‘travel arrangement’?”
Ryan’s shoulders slumped. “No.”
“And getting some splash cash to you in the Philippines so that you could take down the drug lord in that sting operation, was that a ‘travel arrangement’?”
Ryan shook his head.
“I work damn hard to get all you guys everything you need, everywhere you need, every time you need it. You have no idea who I know, what I know, or what I do so that you guys can get the job done, nor do you know what I’m capable of. I’m not your Moneypenny, and you sure as hell ain’t no Bond.
Partner
.”
She grabbed up her things and stalked to the door. “Mal, please organize a background cover for both Ryan and myself by oh-nine-hundred hours.”
Mal saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at the team. “We’re going to be included in the next intake. Drew, can you please make the necessary arrangements.” She looked at Ryan. “We’ll drive up to Lake Galena Sunday afternoon.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She was fuming. She clutched her files with trembling hands and took a deep breath.
Oh, the man was bloody infuriating. She felt a deep hurt at his doubt, his easy disregard, but quickly swamped it in a flood of anger. Anger was better than hurt. She wanted to choke something, and unfortunately Reese wouldn’t let her choke Ryan. She looked down the hall and spotted the door to their gymnasium.
Her eyes narrowed.
Perfect
.
* * *
Inside the room, the four remaining males were silent for a moment.
Mal was the first one to move, and he leaned forward in his chair to high-five Drew. “It was so worth it.”
“Told you so.”
Mal rose from his seat and made for the door. “I better get onto those backgrounds.”
Ryan met Drew’s gaze, and his colleague’s expression quickly changed to a frown. “Uh, I should get going.” He scooped up his files.
“You’ll be Ryan and Vicky’s backup,” Reese said to him. “Make sure Mal sets your cover up, too.”
Drew grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Reese nodded. “I’m thinking waiter.”
Drew’s face fell. “Oh.”
Ryan watched as Drew left the room. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Over and over again.
He turned dazed eyes to his friend and boss.
Reese stared at him. “You must have a death wish.”
“Come on, Reese. She’s inexperienced.”
Reese rubbed the bridge of his nose before he dropped the file on to the table in front of him.
“Do you know where Vicky worked, before she started here?”
Ryan frowned. “Actually, no.” He knew her favorite movie was
The Great Escape
, that she liked to go for long drives, that her favorite scent was Beautiful, and if you gave her ABBA music and a microphone she was happy for the rest of the night. But he didn’t know much at all about her life before the McCormack Security Agency.
“Hmm. Maybe you should ask her. You know, while you’re both working this case.”
“Undercover, though? Really?”
Reese sighed. “If you think you can’t work with her, fine. I’ll get Drew to go in point with her, and you can do backup.”
“No.” Ryan collected his things and rose from the table. “No, that won’t be necessary. We’ll manage.” He strode from the room, and Reese winced as the door closed with a distinct snap.
He leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. He surveyed the empty room.
That went well
.
He hoped Ryan and Vicky could solve this case, without getting killed.
And without killing each other.
* * *
“Are you sure you’ve packed enough?” Ryan asked dryly as he eyed the large suitcase Vicky wheeled over to him. They were inside her apartment, and he was trying not to openly stare at his surroundings. It had been a while since he’d visited. Hell, not since—well, not since THAT Christmas party, nearly a year ago. He looked around the room.
Hmm
. The sofa was new. It wasn’t the blue one that he remembered. He eyed the cream leather lounge with curiosity. He’d kind of liked the old one. He shut the door on those memories, of when he and Vic used to sit and yell at whatever the Cubs were doing on the TV. Or play scrabble on her coffee table. Or watch the latest movie she’d hired from the store down the street. She refused to get TiVo. They’d argue over which movie to watch—the latest action adventure versus some boring chick flick. He missed those times. He straightened. He only had himself to blame.
“Jessica sent over some necessary outfits. Wait, there’s one more bag.” She returned to her room. The one place in her apartment he’d never seen. She’d calmed down since the briefing. It was one of the things he kind of appreciated about her.
Kind of.
Vicky angry was like watching an electrical storm blow over. Spectacular when the lightning flashed and the thunder roared, followed by a serene calm. No hard feelings. He thought of the Christmas party.
Mostly no hard feelings
.
“We’re going for less than a damn week, Vic.”
“You’re going to have to start calling me Cassandra,
Pete
,” she yelled out.
Cassie, maybe. He couldn’t see her as a Cassandra. He shuddered. His cover was Peter Winthrop. The Third. He tested the suitcase. The damn thing weighed a ton. He shook his head. He could only imagine what Jessica Pennington, successful style and etiquette consultant and Noah’s fiancée, had deemed as “necessary outfits” for Vicky’s role at the exclusive Ultima Resort.
Vicky walked out carrying a matching Louis Vuitton valise. This time he tried hard not to openly stare at Vicky. She wore figure-hugging black ski leggings and a black top in some sort of draping fabric with a loosely folded neckline, and every time she bent over to set a bag down or pick one up, the neckline dipped and swayed, and he found himself staring, just in case she bent down low enough and he caught sight of more than just a hint of her cleavage. Today she looked...magnificent. He knew she liked to keep fit, and her curves disguised a competitive athleticism that had left him breathless on many a weekend jog. Today, though...well, today she just looked hot. Sexy, curvy, hot. He assumed she was trying to look the part of the trophy wife of a wealthy developer. Whatever, it worked. Her hair shone, her jewelry sparkled, and she wore boots that seemed to make her legs look longer and slimmer. He forced himself to stop checking out her damn fine legs.
He leaned over to grab the handle for her suitcase when her cell phone rang. She checked the display and sighed. “Sorry, it’s my brother, Scott. I emailed Jason that I was going away.” She turned away as she answered the call, and Ryan released the handle. He’d met Scott, her brother, and the man’s two energetic sons. This could take a while. He listened with half an ear as he scanned the books adorning her shelves.
“It’s only for a couple of days, Scott. I’ll be fine.” She ducked her head as she listened. “Uh-huh. It’s work.” The quick glance she shot at Ryan had him raising an eyebrow. She looked away. “It’s just work, Scott. Oh, okay, put them on.”
She waited for a moment, then smiled brightly. “Hey, Kai. How you doin’?” Ryan sat down on the sofa as she spoke with her eldest nephew. “All right. I’m cool.” She listened, and then chuckled. “Constipated, overrated old lady, huh? I’ll show you old. Why don’t we go ice-skating next weekend, and I’ll show you some old lady moves? Yeah, I’m sorry I can’t come by this weekend. I have to go away for work for a little while. No, everything is fine. Okay, put your brother on.”
Ryan relaxed against the cushion. Yep, this could take a long while. He wasn’t annoyed, though. He’d seen firsthand her close relationship with her brothers and nephews, the trouble she went to, to keep in touch with her family. It was...nice.
“Hi Kyran. Did you just come off the toboggan?” She grinned as her younger nephew chatted away in her ear. “I think I did this with your brother, but okay. I’m cool.” She listened then started to laugh until tears glistened in her eyes, and even though he couldn’t hear the conversation, Ryan felt a tug at his own mouth at her obvious amusement. “Oh, okay. A consecrated over-mated old lady, huh? That’s a good one. Okay, put your dad back on.” She wiped at her cheeks. “You’re going to have to clean that kid’s ears out, Scott.” She listened for a moment. “I’ll be fine. Thanks. Love you, too. Bye.”
She hung up the phone, a smile teasing her lips. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Ryan rose. For the three years he’d known her, Vicky’s family had played an important role in her life. He knew she still went home each Sunday night for a family dinner, and she tried to take her nephews out for an excursion at least once a month. The constant contact she had with them was a little alien to him. Her phone rang again.
She glanced briefly at the screen. “It’s Jason. Scott must have rung him.”
Ryan sagged back onto the sofa as she answered the call. She strode to her kitchen and turned the light off.
“Yes, I’m going away for work, it’s only for a few days, and I’ll be fine,” she told her brother. Ryan watched as she clutched the kitchen bench and tilted her head back. “No, like I said, it’s work. That’s all.”
Her brother said something that had her jaw dropping and color swamping her cheeks. “I’m hanging up, now. I’ll call you when I get back.” She disconnected the call abruptly.
“Everything okay?” he asked. What had her brother said that had made her face go as red as her hair?
“Peachy. Let’s go.”
So she wasn’t going to tell him, huh? He shrugged and rose. He didn’t need to know everything that went on in the Hastings family. He shouldn’t feel excluded. They weren’t his family, damn it. He didn’t do family. Family was...pain. He mentally kicked his curiosity to the curb. Time to get to work.
“Let’s go.”
He leaned down to grab her bag when the musical tones of her phone again tinkled in the small apartment. She looked at the screen. Paused.
“Are you going to get it?”
“It’s Dad.”
This time he sat down and put his feet up on the table. “Answer it.”
She sent him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Thanks.”
“No worries.” Maybe there was a third cousin in Wichita who could call, while they were at it.
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He’d never met the man, but he knew Vicky had a close relationship with her father. He found their constant contact and communication...unusual.
“Hi Da—” Vicky paused and listened.
“Yes, but—” She paused and listened some more.
“It’s work, Dad.” She glanced at Ryan before pirouetting on her heels and stalking back to her bedroom. Ryan watched her retreating ass with interest. Then he glanced at his watch. At this rate they wouldn’t get to Hawk’s Ridge, Lake Galena, until just before dark.
“Okay, let’s go.” Vicky strode back into her living room, a set look to her face. His curiosity was piqued.
“What did your dad want?” It still amazed him that she talked to her old man—not for any other reason than she wanted to.
“My brothers told him I was leaving town for a few days. He wanted to call and check to make sure everything was all right.”
Ryan frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Why would Vicky leaving town for a few days be cause for concern?
Vicky grimaced. “Let’s just say that for a while, I only left town when there was a problem.”