Lucky Charm (14 page)

He watched the cab drive away. It was better this way. Now he’d have no distractions.

A streetlight caught her glancing back, the brief flash of light illuminating her ivory skin, her lovely eyes hidden in darkness.

There was Bill and Bill was dead. His buddy Bill, who’d stood beside him during the bad times.

Somebody had killed him, someone probably, possibly, from Marathon.

Matt was going to find out who it was, and why, by whatever means necessary. He owed Bill that much.

As Matt returned to their table he looked at Carly. That was more like it. She was classically beautiful, aristocratic, tall and willowy, not small and curved. She didn’t need his protection nor would she want it. Neither did Ariel really, as she’d proven, but she brought that instinct out in him whether she needed it or not. Apparently the idea of shots broached by those at the bar had carried over to those at the table. There were empty shot glasses on the table in front of them and Carly had loosened up a little more. Since he hadn’t been at the table, a shot glass awaited him. Frankly, he needed it. He tossed it back. At least it was a reasonably good tequila, Cuervo Reserva by the taste. It slid down his throat smoothly.

Rick signaled for another round.

From the bar Steve shot glaring glances at him as the drinks were delivered. Matt ignored him and tossed the shot back easily.

The shot or shots she’d drunk had loosened Carly up enough to let her slide her hand further up the inside of his thigh, nearly to his crotch. The erection he’d tried not to notice while thinking of Ariel responded to the warmth of Carly’s hand but somehow not in the same way.

It had only been one night. Ariel had been right about that. She was also right that it didn’t give her the right to make judgments about him. So what the hell difference did it make to her what he did? What right did she have to look disappointed in him? To judge or misjudge him? Thinking he was some bed-hopping Romeo?

He was irritated and angry but didn’t know why. Oddly, he felt as if he’d lost something important but didn’t know what it was.

Ariel was gone, to another city, another town. Moving on, doing whatever it was she did. It was best to forget her.

He tried.

At the door to her apartment, Carly pressed herself against him, her expectations clear. He needed the in to Marathon and Carly was one way to get it. No expectations except this one, to get into his pants. Unlike Ariel. What the hell was it with that girl that she’d gotten so far under his skin after just one night? She was gone, but Carly was here. Although he could almost feel Darrin’s disapproval as well as Ariel’s, and his own better instincts rebelled against it, Ariel was gone. Carly was not.

So he kissed her and she kissed him coolly back. There was no passion, no fire in her. He made love to her and she accepted the attention as if it was her due but she never reached out to caress him. He tried not to miss the lush fullness in his hands, since that wouldn’t be fair to Carly. There was no shivering joy, either, no warm arms wrapping around him to stroke his hair afterwards. Carly didn’t want any of that, she tumbled back sated and fulfilled. There would be no cuddling, it was obvious she’d be just as happy if he left. He sat on the bed, stripped off the condom and dropped it into her wastebasket.

He felt strangely empty.

In the back of his mind he heard again a small voice saying in wonder ‘I’d forgotten…’

He tried to put thoughts of Ariel away, of how sweet it had been to wake up to her in the morning, her small frame tucked into the curve of his body.

Carly didn’t have any expectation he would stay. It was also clear she didn’t want him to, either.

He didn’t.

So why did he feel like such a total shit afterwards, driving back to his hotel? Not on Carly’s behalf – he didn’t think she’d care, she was happy enough – but on Ariel’s. A woman he’d probably never see again. Why did he feel he had let down his standards for all the wrong reasons? He hadn’t used Carly, she’d been a willing participant. No matter how it came down, though, it felt wrong.

Focus on the problem
, he reminded himself,
focus on Bill
.

It wasn’t even that hard to borrow Carly’s ID. To her it would be an inconvenience, nothing more.

It was late, but he decided to try again to bypass Marathon’s security. He couldn’t think of a better hour to try.

This time he slipped in through the new construction. The memory of the beating he’d taken somewhere among these offices both chilled him and made him more cautious. This time there’d be no Ariel to come to his rescue. He wouldn’t be that stupid, or that unprepared, again.

The construction was a weakness in the defenses of this building. For most of the tenants, that wasn’t an issue. Most had nothing to hide and not much to tempt someone to steal except their computers.

Marathon, however, did.

What was different about Marathon from some of the other companies in the building?

He looked at the listing of offices. Of them all Marathon was the only one to occupy two complete floors and the only financial investment company. It was interesting, although he didn’t quite know why. He located the stairs, went to the elevator and pressed the up button. Leaning in as the elevator opened, he quickly pressed the button for Marathon’s lower floor and then ducked out again, letting the doors close. He trotted lightly up the stairs and peered in the window of the security door.

The sound of walkie-talkies in the stairwell told him what he needed to know. He crept up the stairs silently to avoid the watchers.

As the sound of electronic voices faded away down the stairs again, he slipped back down to the security door.

Looking at it, he realized there was probably a control system somewhere which showed when the door was opened. A simple switch, it would be difficult to detect. That was probably how they had discovered him before. He wouldn’t test that tonight, that would stir up a hornet’s nest. They’d likely search the entire building. He looked through the window for signs of eyes in the sky, those dark bubbles in the ceiling that hid surveillance equipment, or cameras in the corners but he didn’t see any of that.

That was unusual, there should be some, with all the other security it was astounding they didn’t have Big Brother watching but they didn’t. He was left with the feeling that they wanted to be guarded but they also wanted no physical record, no pictures of who came and went.

So close. Somehow he had to find a way to get in to look at their files.

Drawing out Carly’s ID he looked at it then at the keycard slot in light of Bill’s death.

If he used it, he’d put Carly at risk. She didn’t deserve that. He wouldn’t put her in danger, not even for Bill.

He waited a little while to let things settle before slipping quietly out of the building and returning to his hotel.

Carefully, he scouted around it as he had each night, looking for signs he’d been spotted.

By now Marathon knew he was here. Moe, Larry and Curly would’ve reported him. The company seemed to have money to burn, enough to hire a lot of goons. It was unlikely they wouldn’t be looking for him.

They were, in fact.

A tell-tale glow in a car down row in the line of parked cars betrayed the watchers. A cigarette. It glowed again as someone inhaled.

Carefully, he made his way around but he couldn’t see the occupants of the car clearly, just shadows. Two, at least, though. Well, he’d taken the precaution of carrying his bag down to his car each morning, just in case.

He was curious how they’d found him in the first place. Did they have his name? Had they made the connections?

Not that it mattered. It was time to move on.

By midday Ariel had all the little problems that cropped up in the Fort Lauderdale office resolved. It was a relief to hop into her rental – not a sports car like Matt had but a plain sedan – and hit the road to Tampa. It would be a long drive but maybe she’d also be able to put the memory of a tall, sexy blond stranger behind her.

Marathon had a number of offices around the country and as the representative who’d sold the software to them she would also be the one installing the software in all of them. When she was done they would all be linked and sharing data. Starting at the closest, she was working her way full circle back to Titan’s offices in Virginia on the outskirts of DC. Titan hadn’t made a dent in the west coast client base, it was a hard market for any company to break into, but Marathon would open it up if this installation was successful. She intended it to be very successful.

That left a lot riding on her shoulders under the watchful and anticipatory eyes of the company owners, Paul and Rae Anne. She called him on the drive to Tampa to report in but got Rae Anne instead.

Involuntarily, she winced and then made a face at the phone.

Of medium height with blunt cut hair, a surprisingly flirtatious manner around everyone when her husband wasn’t looking and a strong tendency to drink far too much at public functions, Rae Anne Robards was Paul Montgomery’s partner as well as his wife and the brains behind the software. Paul was the money man, worried about the bottom line, while Rae Anne ensured the software met the client’s needs – but not at the sacrifice of the sale. Both were far too anal retentive about unimportant matters for Ariel’s tastes. Everything had to be logged, each phone call, text and e-mail, even if you only left a voice mail. They had no qualms about checking their employee’s e-mail or voice mail and sending off sharply worded messages if they didn’t meet their exacting standards. In the meantime testing of the software wasn’t always as rigorous.

The good thing for Ariel was that she was on the road most of the time. Trips back to the D.C. area, though, were required every few months. A week at the office stretched interminably. Based in Ohio, though, she had a lot more autonomy than most and was thankful for it.

“How are you doing down there?” Rae Anne asked, her voice deceptively chipper and cheery.

“The Fort Lauderdale site is up and running, so everything is go. You might want to give the folks on the Help Desk a heads up, though,” Ariel said.

“Did you get your entries in?”

Taking a deep breath, Ariel restrained herself. “I haven’t been near an internet connection since this morning. As soon as I can I’ll get them entered.”

Rae Anne said, her voice abruptly sharp, “You know how important it is that we have good records, Ariel. Get that entry in as soon as possible.”

Not good job but rather did you get the notes into the computer?

Rolling her eyes, Ariel promised she would before hanging up.

Such a joy
. Once she reached Tampa and checked into her room she would fire up her laptop long enough to satisfy Rae Anne’s need for the i’s to be dotted and the t’s to be crossed. Then she’d shut the whole thing down and not to touch the machine again until Monday.

Ariel put all of that aside to spend two days with an e-reader and good books under an umbrella by the side of the pool. With her fair skin, sunburn was a problem but she loved the feel of the warm air on her skin, like heated silk gliding across it. If she wanted to cool off, a quick dive in the pool was all she needed. She lounged by the poolside gratefully and tried not to dread Monday.

Matt slumped in his favorite chair, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh of relief. Since he was using his own money for this little adventure, he hadn’t flown first class and coach was definitely not made for a man with legs as long as his.

His spine popped as he settled into the leather, breathed in the scent of it.

Home, he was home.

“So,” Darrin drawled evenly, “still no success?”

It was that voice that Matt remembered most from his first meeting with the man who would become his stepfather. Even as a wary and belligerent boy it had caught at him, reminding him of the sound of a cello – low, warm and smooth. That was something he would’ve been too embarrassed to mention, then or now.

Tall, lean and spare, the lines in his rugged face highlighted by the golden lamplight, Darrin looked back at him with sharp, piercing blue eyes. In every way most people thought, Darrin was the epitome of a cowboy, from his pearl-buttoned western shirt down to his cowboy boots. His own long jean-clad legs were stretched out in front of him in much the same way as Matt’s. All that was missing from the image were the chaps.