In Too Deep: A Romantic Suspense Novel (40 page)

But with all of the fun of becoming a sex symbol, there were things I didn't like. Besides the fact that I had to go to every public work appearance dressed like a walking anime fantasy, I had to sit through meetings. While
Marcus
and I kept things pretty loose due to the other activities in our life, we still had to go through the whole rigmarole every time we wanted to sink money into a new investment.

"So as you can see," the guy at the front of the room said as he turned his attention away from my breasts to the LCD display behind him, which dominated the west wall of the room. I'd have preferred a good projector myself, but the LCD was a product of one of our other investments, a tech company that was trying to make revolutionary ultra thin LCD's. I had to say the display was pretty good, to the point Marcus and I sometimes watched videos on it, and it could run off of a nine-volt battery if we wanted. I shook my head and tried to pay attention to the guy at the front of the room.

"We've increased sales by an average margin of twenty percent over the past five years," he said, pointing towards a bar chart on the screen. "But more importantly, we're poised for even more growth. The past two years I've intentionally held back on further growth options because I was worried about overreaching my company's ability to deliver quality service to our customers. This year though I'm at a plateau. If I don't get venture capital in order to expand into new facilities, I'm going to be stuck where I am."

"What's so wrong with that?" Marcus asked from his chair next to me. "You know that if I give you the money you're asking for, you're giving up at least twenty-five percent ownership in the company you founded. Isn't one hundred percent of a smaller pie better than seventy-five percent of a bigger pie?"

"Depends on the size of the bigger pie. I predict we can double in size. Mr. Smiley, I came to you because you've gained a reputation in the city of being able to help companies like mine when we cannot go through traditional channels. I've tried those ways, but each bank I've approached has turned me down. If you say no, I'm going to have to look outside the city for expansion capital."

"So you're this certain about your company?" I asked him. "Because while we provide money, the sweat equity and hard work comes from your end. Mr. Smiley makes his money by giving other people an opportunity, not handouts."

"Miss Warbird, I've already put everything into this company. My home is carrying two mortgages and I'm driving a fifteen-year-old Ford for a reason. I know that we can make ourselves into a great success. I'm just looking for that last little bit to prime the pump."

Marcus nodded. "Okay. Let me and my assistant look the figures and details over, and I'll give you an answer within twenty-four hours. Thank you for stopping by."

The man clicked the power button on the remote he was holding, and the LCD went blank. "No, thank you Mr. Smiley. I look forward to hearing from you."

After he left,
Marcus Smiley
was able to set his mask aside, and I was able to look at the face of the man I loved, Mark Snow. "So what do you think?"

I stood up and stretched, aware that my position was making my already enhanced bust line stick out even more. Since it was just Mark though, I didn't mind showing off a little bit. "I think he spent far too much time looking at my breasts for someone who was dedicated to growing his company."

Mark smiled and gestured with his hand. "Babe, with what you are wearing today, I had trouble not just jumping out of my chair and ending the meeting early myself. You look incredibly sexy today."

I could feel the blush creeping up my neck and waved off his compliment. "You tell me I look sexy, that's one thing," I said as I unbuttoned the form fitting suit jacket. "Hell, you tell me to dress like every guy's fantasy of an office vixen, and it turns me on, you know that. But when Mr. Potato Head is checking out my boobs too, no thanks. These belong to the Snowman only."

Mark got up out of his chair and pulled me to him, his strong hands holding my waist close to him. I could feel the lithe, powerful muscles under his navy blue Italian suit, and my heart sped up in my chest. "Mark....." I whispered, looking up into his eyes.

"Later, my love," he said, kissing my forehead regretfully. "If I do what I want, we're not going to have a chance to get the rest of the work day done."

Like I said, being Sophie Warbird was sometimes a drag.

L
ater that afternoon
, after we had concluded the daily work, I got to do one of the more fun parts of being Sophie Warbird. I stretched my wrists, twirling the bamboo stick in my hand and looking over at Mark. My hair was pulled back, and I was wearing the lightly padded outfit that Mark still insisted that I wear. Mark's stick was also padded, giving me just enough protection to prevent bruises or injury while at the same time leaving enough feedback that I knew when I screwed up. Well that, and the fact that Mark was a great teacher and knew exactly how hard to take things to push me.

"Let's see how much you've learned," Mark said as he twirled his own stick.

Stick fighting isn't a big part of my training. With Mark and I taking on the organized crime elements of the city, firearms were much more important than anything else. However, Mark felt that understanding the basics of fear and how to react even when I was afraid was vital. I agreed, and besides, it was a lot of fun. Besides, it pushed us to another level of bonding.

Mark started slow, with simple single swings of the stick that I blocked and countered easily. He could dodge almost every blow that I returned, except for the minor ones that he wanted me to hit with. He didn't wear any protective clothing, depending on his skill and speed to keep himself safe. As our sparring continued, our speed and complexity increased more and more, until the two of us were swinging dual sticks at each other full speed. More than once I could hear the whoosh as Mark's stick whizzed by my ear, but instead of backing off, we pushed harder. The sparring ended when Mark's stick stopped a fraction of an inch from my neck, frozen in the middle of a swing that in real life would have most likely broken my neck, and definitely would have ruptured my carotid artery.

"Nice job," Mark replied, twirling his stick and stepping away. "You did a lot better."

"I've been working on it," I grinned. I rolled my left shoulder, which had taken a shot from him a few minutes prior. "So what percent were you going at today?"

"About eighty, a new high," Mark replied. "Seriously, I didn't think I'd ever be pushed to eighty percent by you."

"Because I'm a girl?" I asked with a smile. "Or because I'm your girlfriend?"

"Because you didn't start this until you were in your twenties," Mark replied. "It took me a long time to get the hang of this stuff, and I started a lot younger. The later you start this stuff, the longer it takes you to get the hang of it."

I smiled and dropped my stick. "Well, let's get the rest of our workout done, and then go home. I'm ready for an evening together. You owe me a bath and massage for that whack on my shoulder."

Mark grinned. "Sounds good."

T
he day
after Sophie and Mark's meeting with their most recent investment possibility, I was sitting in my office going over the financials on another one of the Smiley potentials when my office phone rang.

It was strange, the fact that I had my own office at Taylor & Hardwick's, one of the bigger financial firms in town, and I wasn't even twenty-five. I knew that it was all due to Sophie and Mark, but still I wanted to do my best to earn my spot. I had my MBA for a reason, after all. Still, the intern pool was filled with people who had degrees just as good as mine, and who worked just as hard as I did. I just happened to be lucky enough to have one of my best friends fall in love with a rich hitman who had a heart of gold, as well as a bank account that would make all of the senior partners in the firm green with envy.

As ridiculous as it sounds, it's totally true. Mark Snow was one of the best hitmen in the entire country, who knows, maybe one of the best in the world. I don't exactly keep track of these things. Tall, fit, and intelligent, he also had movie star looks to go along with it. Yeah, I was a little jealous when Sophie hooked up with him, but after knowing Mark the past few months, I couldn't be totally jealous any more.

There was only one area that I was still envious of Sophie, and that was
the look
. Any woman who has had a friend who gets a great lover knows
the look
. It's the look of a woman who just had every sexual desire satiated. For the average woman, you might see that once or twice in the course of a friendship. Hell, to be honest, you may never see it at all, even in our own mirrors. It's a look that says
The world's ending and the zombies are rampaging? Ah well, I'm cool with that.

I've never had that feeling myself, although I've come damn close a few times. Despite my adventurous nature, I'm not an easy lay, so for me to be seeing it on Sophie's face on almost a daily basis was a little frustrating at first. Hell, Mark gets shot in the leg, she does emergency surgery on the man, and two weeks later she's back to looking like she's on permanent happy pills.

So I was sitting in my office going over the latest batch of potential investments for Mark and Sophie when my phone rang. I picked it up, tucking it between my shoulder and head. "Taylor & Hardwick's, Tabitha Williams."

"Tabby? Hi, it's Donna down in the intern pool. Got a minute?"

Donna was one of the girls who had started with me. Smarter than I was, she was a graduate of Penn State, and had been pegged as one of the fast risers in the intern pool almost as soon as we both started. Donna's main problem was the way that she presented herself. She lacked self-confidence, and it showed when she conducted business. It caused her to have a hard time getting traction in a business world where, quite frankly, appearance and personality got you clients in the beginning. Donna's advice was great, in fact she could outperform analysts with two and three times the years she had, but she was still slaving away in the intern pool until she got enough people who could get past her first impression and see the brain inside. I liked her, so I tried to help her when I could. "Yeah, what's up Donna?"

"I've got a company investment request that came across my desk, honestly it looks like one of those types of things that you tend to handle. Smallish company, local, looking for investment capital, and willing to give up a percentage of the business for it. I've done just the initial research, but I think it could be a Smiley investment. You mind if I come up and give you the info?"

"Heck no, I'd be all for it," I said. I knew that if Donna brought me the file, she and I would split the revenue for the investment. It could be enough that Donna could find herself the second member of our intern class to get their way into a real office, even if it was shared with another junior associate. "I'm in my office right now. You know where it is?"

"You kidding? Your office is like Valhalla for the interns right now. We all want to get in there."

I laughed. "Well, don't be too overwhelmed, it's not the greatest office in the building. I don't even have a window, and the air conditioner in here sucks."

"But you
do
have your own space. I'll be up in three minutes." The line went dead, and I waited for Donna to show up. She was true to her word, and knocked on my door, breathing just a bit heavily, three minutes later. She really needed to get more exercise, she spent too many hours working. "Hey Tabby, here you are."

I looked the file folder over. "Hmm, family owned HVAC installation and repair, looking at expanding their service from four trucks to seven, maybe open up a second location across the river to catch that traffic. How're the financials?"

"Solid. Good ROI, maybe twenty-five percent cash on cash yearly. They're only looking for twenty-five grand, I figure the Smileys can see that back within the first year even with the firm's percentage. Taxes might bite them in the ass a bit, but they're going to clear easy profit on it. I say let the accountants worry about the taxes, they're going to make money."

I nodded. "It's good. So why aren't you taking this to your current clients?"

Donna shook her head. "I don't have any angel investor clients. All I have currently is your standard stock market type crowd, mostly in mutual funds. Besides, my managerial portfolio is based around stocks and bonds. I'm currently fourth in the region in terms of highest performing fund managers, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't. Word of that gets out and you're going to be leapfrogging me on the firm's ladder very quickly," I said in true appreciation. Donna was that sort of woman, you couldn't get mad at her, she was just so sweet and kind. Also, she was just so unabashedly smart, you ended up feeling like a good high school player being jealous of Kobe Bryant or something, it just felt stupid. "So who are the top three?"

"Rob Viscount at East Street, Xavier Washington at Hammersmith, and an online guy, goes by the name of The Frost King. He's a freakin' legend amongst the market day traders, guy seriously has some sort of sixth sense when it comes to picking the right stocks to invest or short. He's down a bit from the past two years, and slipped to third, but he's still beating the market by twenty-five percent. God I'd love to meet him."

I smiled to myself and shrugged. "Who knows, maybe you'll get a chance some day. In any case, I'll take this to Marcus Smiley, and you get to keep your share of the credit for your portfolio. What is it now?"

"Thirty-three percent," Donna replied quickly before stopping and blushing. "Sorry, I took a moment to look it up before I called you."

"How about we make it fifty-fifty then?" I said. "You did most of the hard work on this I see, I don't want to take the credit from you."

I could see Donna considering. Was I being generous because I felt bad for her, or was I being truly rewarding because she was deserving of it? Finally, she smiled. "Okay, great. I'll get the papers drawn up. If you don't mind, can I get a chance to meet the Smileys some time? I've seen them on TV a few times, and they're just so cool."

"Sure. I'm sure Marcus and Sophie would love to meet you sometime. When I give them the brief on this I'll pass it along."

"Thanks."

P
ressman Contractors was
a pretty standard looking industrial contractor's office, the building itself being cinderblock and concrete that could use a fresh coat of paint. Two trucks were parked outside, Ford F450's with the Pressman logo on the side and a back bed filled with tools and all the other things a repairman might need. I parked my little Prius in the spot marked for visitors and made my way inside. "Hello?"

"Just a moment!" a call came from the back. I heard a bit of frustrated grumbling and muffled curses, then the unmistakable sound of a wrench being dropped on a floor. "All right, there we go."

The guy who came out of the back was cute, plain and simple. He was about five ten, maybe a hundred and eighty or so, with brown hair and hazel eyes that went with a strong, square jawline. He was wearing a slightly tight polo shirt with the Pressman logo on it and some work pants, both of which he filled out nicely. He looked like the sort of guy that housewives called over to check out their units just to see him in tight jeans and a sweaty shirt as often as possible. "Hi, how can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Tabitha Williams, from Taylor & Hardwick's, I'm a financial analyst. Is your boss around?" I asked, tossing my hair over my shoulder. My long auburn red hair is one of my favorite features, and I knew I was flirting. It's just in my nature, and besides, this guy was worth flirting with.

"Dad's out at a work-site right now," the young guy said, "but I'm sure I can help you. Are you here about the request for venture capital we submitted to you guys?"

I was impressed. This guy was smart, and yeah, he broke some of my preconceived notions of what an HVAC guy was supposed to sound like. "I am. I'm the account manager for Marcus Smiley's investments in the city, and I just wanted to see if I could look around some."

"Sure," the guy said, pulling a towel out of the back pocket of his jeans and wiping his hands. "I'm sorry for the greasy hands, but one of our guys just brought this unit in and I wanted to get it out of the shop quickly. We've got a lady over on the South Side without an air conditioner right now. By the way, I'm Scott. Scott Pressman."

"Nice to meet you. Sure you don't mind if I look around?" I asked, looking at the shop. "I don't want to get in your way."

"Not at all. If you want, you can even give me a hand if you want. I don't know why, but you look like the sort of girl who knows the difference between a socket wrench and a Phillips-head screwdriver."

Scott had me pegged. While since entering college I'd had the reputation and look of a sorority party girl, the fact was I'd grown up in a family that, while well to do, had gotten that way by owning three car dealerships down in Florida. I'd spent just as much time under the hood of a car as I had on the beaches, and could do an oil change by the time I was eight. "I think I can give you a hand if you want, just as long as I don't get dirty. I'm wearing a suit after all."

For the next hour and a half, I helped Scott break down and replace the parts that were going wrong on the AC unit. It was pretty similar to a car, really, and I could follow along as he walked me through the different systems and subsystems. It was a lot of fun, and as we worked, we got to know each other.

"So, how long have you been doing HVAC?" I asked.

"Officially only two years, but since Grandpa opened this place, I've been around it my whole life. After high school I went straight to my HVAC course, got my diploma, and came back to work the family business. Dad wants me to take night classes in business to get my associates, but I'm holding off for a year or two to get my feet underneath me again. What about you? You're not just a calculator type, I can tell that by the way you find the wrenches on sight without even needing to read the markings."

I felt a warmth in my cheeks from his compliment. "My family owns a couple of car dealerships in Florida. My father and brother run them now, and I kind of moved on. I enjoyed the family work, but I didn't want to spend the rest of my life working credit applications for new trucks or seeing if I can get someone into that convertible they insist they need. So I went to school, got my MBA, and started where I am now."

"I see. You enjoy it?" Scott asked as he attached a flywheel to the compressor. "I mean, I know it pays better than HVAC repair, but people don't work just for money."

"I know what you mean," I said, handing him a screwdriver. "And yes, I like my work. I'll admit I got lucky by being picked out by Marcus Smiley for his local investments, but that can make all the difference. We're spending his money not just for making profit, but to help real people make a real positive way in the world."

Scott set his wrench aside and looked at me. "And that's important to you. Making the world a better place."

I smiled and sat back on the small stool that we both had. "Yeah, I guess so."

"That's pretty cool. Uhm, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to do this or not, you being the financial analyst, but I was wondering if perhaps you and I could..." Scott said, looking even cuter as he nervously fidgeted.

I've always been kind of forward, and I answered him before he could even complete his question. "I'd love to. I'm into Italian food and I'm free this Thursday night."

"You ever been to Mar de Napoli?" Scott asked. "Real wood fired pizza oven, and the best
frutti di mare
you'll find in the city."

"You had me at wood fired pizza. Now, I really should do a walk around to do the work part of my job."

Scott smiled. "Of course. Dad should be back soon, and if you need anything I'll be happy to help you out."

T
he night was
cloudy and there was only a new moon in the sky, which is exactly what I was looking for. Pushing off from the observation deck of the Financial Tower, the tallest building in the city, I rode the updrafts from the sides of the surrounding buildings pretty well in my glider. Made of the lightest materials available, it was one of my newest purchases, and came in non-reflective black. While not totally invisible, I could be assured of a very quiet approach.

"So how's it going back there?" I whispered. The contact microphone taped to my throat worked perfectly, and I knew that Sophie could hear what I was saying. "I mean, instead of doing this, I'd much rather be having a relaxing bath with you."

"Hmm, well, you get out of there in one piece, and you can have more than a bath," Sophie purred back. "In fact, if it wasn't that you'd probably crash, I'd tell you right now what you could be having."

The sound quality on the radios was perfect, it sounded like I was sitting next to Sophie, who was back at our home in the bell tower where we had one of our headquarters for surreptitious activities. She wanted to come with me on this mission, but Sophie hadn't learned how to fly a hang glider yet, although it was something we were planning on doing soon.