The Cutting Edge (16 page)

Silver bullied her into eating the most substantial meal she'd had since the ordeal had begun; then they cleaned up together and talked about the shop in Gatlinburg, and of the many friends Tessa had in Tennessee. Catching up on the news kept her occupied until the time when she knew Sammy usually got home. He might refuse, of course. Even Sammy had to realize that helping her was a risky business. But all she could do was ask.

She let the phone ring, knowing that if Sammy were tinkering with Nelda, it might take him a while to realize that the phone was ringing. Her patience was rewarded, and on about the twelfth ring he picked up, sounding vaguely surprised as he said, “Hello?” as if his mind were on something else.

“Sammy, this is Tessa.”

“Tessa! Where are you? I heard a…well, uh, a rumor, but—”

“It isn't a rumor. I've been arrested for embezzling.”

“That's crazy,” he said roughly.

“I didn't do it.”

“Of course you didn't do it. Did you think you had to tell me?”

“No, of course not,” she said gently. “Sammy, I need your help in finding out who really did it. But…it could cost you your job if anyone finds out that you're helping me. So if you don't want to take the risk, I'll understand.”

“I'll come over,” he said with rare decisiveness. “What's your address?”

She told him, and he hung up. His instant support,
like Billie's, made her eyes sting. If only—No! She broke the thought off before it could be fully formed.

It was an hour before Sammy arrived; his blond hair was rumpled, but his normally vague air was missing. He hugged Tessa, cuddling her against his lanky body for a moment. “Don't worry,” he said confidently. “I'll find out who did it and get you out of this mess. You want me to use the computers, don't you?”

“Yes, but it isn't going to be easy,” she warned.

He grinned, and she could tell that the prospect of matching his wits against the computer excited him. “Tell me what you know.”

She didn't really know anything, but she'd gone over and over it in her mind, and settled on the most likely course. A bogus account had been set up in accounts payable, and the computer had been instructed to issue checks to that account. Those checks had then been deposited in a bank, and withdrawals made from the account. But she didn't know the name of the bogus account, and the lack of that extremely important fact made Sammy frown. “I have to have the name, or I don't have a starting place.”

Silver said simply, “Ask someone who knows.”

Sammy looked startled, then he grinned. “You mean, walk right up to Mr. Rut—”

“No, don't ask him,” Tessa interrupted harshly. “It could mean your job. You can't let anyone know you're doing this.”

“No one will know. I can do it without tipping anyone off, but I have to have the name. I'll do some snooping around at work.” His brow furrowed, then he said, “They had to be using the computers at work to hunt
for the bogus account to begin with. They'd have left tracks like anyone else using the computer. If I can't find out something that way, I'll ask around. Someone will know. Maybe Perry will know. After all, you work in his department.”

Worked, her mind corrected him. Past tense. Everything was past tense.

The phone rang, and Silver got up to answer it. Panic flaring in her eyes, Tessa hastily asked Sammy, “How is Hillary doing these days?”

“I don't know. I think she's mad at me, but I can't figure out why she should be.”

The habit of looking out for Sammy was hard to break. “Pay more attention to her, and see if that doesn't help,” she advised.

“Pay attention to her? You mean like taking her out?”

“Well, why not? Would it hurt? You like her, don't you?”

“Yeah, but Hillary doesn't—”

“Hillary does,” Tessa assured him, smiling wanly. “She thinks the sun rises and sets on you. Ask her out.”

Silver hung up the phone and came back to sit down, her forehead lined with worry. “Trouble on the home front,” she sighed. “I left your number at the shop, in case they needed to get in touch with me.”

“What's wrong?” Tessa asked.

“A little of everything, evidently. An order of supplies is late, the roof started leaking during a storm last night and a customer who bought a doll for her granddaughter's birthday left the doll on a chair, and her dog got it and chewed it to pieces. It was a custom-made
doll.” Silver sighed. “Now she wants another one, by Sunday.”

After a moment, Tessa said, “I think you need to go home.”

“No, they'll just have to get along without me. I can't leave you now.”

“You can always come back,” Tessa pointed out. “Nothing will be happening now until the grand jury is called, and that won't be for another two weeks.”

Silver hesitated. Her strong practical streak recognized the truth of what Tessa was saying, yet she was still reluctant to leave Tessa. If Tessa had been angry, if she'd cried or called Brett Rutland every name she could think of, Silver wouldn't have worried, but none of that had happened. It was all locked inside Tessa, concealed behind her quiet face and carefully controlled manner, a seething cauldron of pain, outrage and betrayed love. That man had a lot to answer for.

“I'll be all right,” Tessa assured her. “Go. Call now and get a flight for tomorrow. You can come back as soon as you've got everything settled, if you'll feel better doing that. Sammy and Billie are here, you know. I won't be alone.”

“No. I'll call or come by every day,” Sammy promised.

“Well, all right.” Silver gave in. “But I'll call you every night, too.”

Which meant that she'd have to start answering the phone again, Tessa realized. Well, what did it matter? Brett wasn't going to call her. It was just that she'd developed this silly fear of answering either the phone or the door. She had to get over that, just as she'd have to
get over everything else. But deep down, inside her, there was a small cry of pain, because Brett wasn't going to call.

B
RETT SAT BOLT
upright in bed, sweat streaming from his body, his jaw tight from the effort he'd been making not to yell. Swearing under his breath, he kicked the tangled sheet away from his legs and swung out of bed. His heart was still pounding, and he was breathing as if he'd been running miles. Naked, he paced up and down the too-small confines of the hotel room, running his hand through his already tousled hair.

The dream had been so real, but the real horror of it was that it was likely to come true. Tessa had been convicted, and he'd watched her being led away to prison. She'd been wearing a rough, blue uniform dress of sorts, and she'd been so pale and fragile that he'd been afraid she'd collapse. But she'd walked away from him without looking back, flanked on each side by a burly prison guard, and she'd disappeared into a black tunnel. As she'd gone out of sight, an iron-barred gate had slammed shut and locked, and he'd known that he'd never see her again. That was when he'd woken, his throat aching from the silent roar of protest.

The very image was obscene. In the dark truth of the night, he knew that no matter how much money she'd stolen, that even if she had made a fool of him, he couldn't bear for her to go to prison. Not Tessa, with her flashing smile and twinkling eyes, her slow, liquid
drawl, the bright laughter that so effortlessly enchanted. And the hot ecstasy of her body, he thought, closing his eyes as the memory slammed into him with the power of a sledgehammer. Her silky legs clasping his hips. The look of trusting passion in her eyes when he took her. The flirtatious, languid movement of her hips when she walked. The incendiary sweep of her long lashes over eyes that laughed and invited. Everything about her drove him mad, and it was the wine-sweet sort of madness that he knew would linger with him for the rest of his life.

He wanted a drink, but a quick look at the clock told him that it was almost two-thirty in the morning. His mouth twisted wryly. That was definitely a little early…or a little late…to start hitting the bottle. His father would nod his head and smirk and say that he'd always said that a woman could drive a man to drink. The thought of Tom reminded him that he hadn't been able to take Tessa to meet him, as he'd almost promised her he would do, this weekend. But now it was very early Monday morning, and the weekend was over. It had been a week since he'd had Tessa arrested, a week during which he'd been dying a little more each day from the wound caused by her absence.

His emotions had swung from hurt and pain to raw fury; then the anger had changed to outraged pride, and a determination that she would never have the chance to make a fool of him again. Now, however, pride didn't seem very important beside the fact that he'd lose her forever if he let her go to prison. Her guilt no longer mattered. What mattered was that he have her back in his arms again. He'd coddle her and keep her safe for
the rest of her life, and make damned sure that she never got in this kind of mess again.

With that inner realization that nothing else meant as much to him as Tessa, he became aware of a growing sense of peace, an easing of the weight on his shoulders. The action he needed to take was abruptly clear. He never thought that it would be easy, but he knew what had to be done. He'd catch the first flight he could get to San Francisco.

He was able to go back to sleep, but he woke early, eager to get things moving. There was no need to pack. He planned to be back that night, even if he had to drive. He showered and shaved, not noticing in the mirror that his face was set in grim determination. After calling the airlines and getting a seat on a flight leaving at nine-twenty, he called Evan.

“I'm going to see Joshua this morning,” he said grimly when Evan answered.

“Has something come up?”

“I'm not letting her go to jail.”

Evan sighed. “It's about time. What're you going to tell the old man? He was dead set on making an example of the thief.”

“I'll handle it.” If Joshua didn't decide to make things difficult, he had a plan all worked out, one that would reimburse Joshua and keep Tessa out of jail. If Joshua wouldn't go along with that, Brett knew what he had to do.

“Have you talked to Tessa?”

“No. I don't want her to know anything about it yet.” Perhaps it was a little cruel to keep her in the dark, but
not as cruel as getting her hopes up and keeping her nerves strung out until she could hear from him again.

“Maybe this will settle things down at work,” Evan grunted.

“Maybe.” As he hung up, an unwilling grin touched Brett's hard mouth. Tessa didn't lack for support. Everyone was in an uproar, and he was about as welcome as Typhoid Mary. He expected to get a knife in the back at any time from that little red-headed spitfire, and a couple of times he'd had the uneasy feeling that the papers in his office weren't exactly as he'd left them. It didn't matter, because he kept all important papers locked in his briefcase, and all the evidence against Tessa was in the D.A.'s possession, but if he caught anyone in his office they'd be fired on the spot. Even spineless Perry Smitherman had gotten huffy with him, something that had given him a moment of bitter amusement at the incongruity of it.

Shortly before noon, he was striding through the plush dove-gray carpeted corridors of the Carter-Marshall building. Some of the people he passed greeted him; most didn't. The frown on his face was enough to discourage all but the most intrepid.

He entered Joshua Carter's office, and the secretary looked up. A smile lit her pretty face as she recognized him. “This is a surprise. We weren't expecting you, were we?”

“No, we weren't,” he growled, but he managed a tight smile for her. Donna had done a lot of favors for him in the past.

“Are you back for good…until the next crisis, that is?”

“Just a flying visit. I need to see Joshua. It's urgent.”

Donna pursed her lips, frowning. “Well, he has a luncheon appointment, but I'll stall them. Go on in.”

“Thanks. I'll dance at your next wedding.”

“Deliver me,” she muttered. Donna was currently off men, having just gotten through a messy divorce.

Brett gave the door one hard rap, then opened it. Joshua Carter looked up from his desk, surprise widening his eyes; then he grinned. “Hell, I should've known who it was from the way you came barging in, but I didn't know you were back. Everything sewn up down there?”

Brett put his briefcase on a chair and walked over to the bar that occupied one end of Joshua's office, going behind it to the coffeepot that was always kept full. He poured a steaming cup of coffee, then looked up at his employer. Joshua was of medium height, but bulky from a lifetime of doing hard manual work. His gray hair was thinning, and he had to wear glasses now, but there was still a glint in his hard blue eyes that warned people he was a formidable opponent. Joshua had started out dirt poor, but by his own crafty intelligence and sheer determination he'd built a fortune. He wouldn't be inclined to dismiss charges against someone who'd been stealing from him. In Brett, he'd met his match in willpower, and now they were going to do some hard dealing.

“Let's negotiate,” Brett said evenly.

At the tone of Brett's voice, Joshua lifted one gray eyebrow, his blue eyes growing cautious. “Negotiate? This sounds serious. Is some head-hunter stealing you away?”

“No. It's the case in Los Angeles.”

“The woman you caught embezzling? What about her?”

“I want to make a deal with her.”

“What sort of deal?” Joshua blazed.

“All charges dropped in exchange for full restitution.”

Joshua got to his feet and braced his hands on his desk. He drew a deep breath. “There's no way in hell.”