Dark Waters (2013)
| Dark Waters (2013) | |
| Anderson, Toni | |
| (2013) | |
| Tags: | Romantic/Suspense Romantic/Suspensettt |
Danger once again laps at the shores of Barkley Sound, the Graveyard of the Pacific…
Since her rocky childhood and its abrupt, brutal ending, schoolteacher Anna Silver hasn’t given her trust easily. But when her estranged father gets in over his head—again—and winds up dead, his last message to Anna is as clear as it is insistent: she’s in danger and Brent Carver, the man with whom he shared a prison cell for five years, is the only person she should turn to for help. With nowhere else to go and with her father’s killer on her trail, Anna flees to what she hopes is safety.
Tucked into the west coast of Vancouver Island, Brent Carver’s isolated home hasn’t seen many visitors. And his friend’s daughter is the last person he ever expected to grace his doorstep. She’s in trouble, and he can’t deny her protection…just as he can’t deny his attraction to the independent beauty. As their passion sparks into flame, the perfect storm brews off the coast of his island home, bringing with it a sadistic killer hunting Anna and the secrets she’s come close to uncovering.
In this action-packed contemporary, Anderson (
Dangerous Waters
) weaves together a tapestry of powerful suspense and sizzling romance. Davis Silver learns that someone is planning to set him up for embezzlement—the same fraudulent charge that sent him to prison years ago. Before he is killed, he warns his daughter, Anna, about a group of desperate ex-military criminals who will want the incriminating papers Davis mailed her. He advises her that the only person he trusts to keep her safe is Brent Carver, Davis’s far younger former cellmate. Anna falls for Brent—a brave, brooding artist—and as bodies pile up, he fights to keep her safe. Able plotting and sympathetic characters take the reader on a satisfying journey with steamy romance to enjoy along the way.
A former marine biologist who completed her PhD at the Gatty Marine Laboratory in St. Andrews, Scotland, Toni Anderson has traveled the world with her work. She was born and raised in rural Shropshire, England, and, after living in five different countries, she finally settled down in the Canadian prairies with her husband and two children. Combining her love of travel with her love of romantic suspense, Anderson writes stories based in some of the places she has been fortunate to visit. When not writing, she’s busy walking her dog, gardening, and ferrying the kids to school, piano, and soccer games. She is also the author of
Storm Warning
,
Edge of Survival
, and
Dangerous Waters
.
Also by Toni Anderson
Dangerous Waters
The Killing Game
Edge of Survival
Storm Warning
Sea of Suspicion
Her Sanctuary
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2013 Toni Anderson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance
PO Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781477805039
ISBN-10: 1477805036
To my daughter, Jamie, who is brilliant, beautiful, and kind.
No one gave ex-cons the benefit of the doubt. Hell, his wife had made that clear the day she filed for divorce. Davis Silver stared at the numbers on the screen and it suddenly all made sense. All that benevolent “second chance” baloney blown out the hole.
These guys had reeled him in and made him a believer. Gifted him with that vastly underrated commodity—hope. Now these
bastards
were going to get away with stealing millions in charitable donations made to injured vets if he didn’t act soon. And
he
was the fall guy. The mark. The dupe. The asshole who’d believed in them.
He’d been so pathetically grateful to be hired as an expense accounts manager and kept on in this dismal economy. Not only was he an ex-con, he was decades older than the college grads who were so desperate to find work they’d accept payment in beer.
Should have known
.
He’d noticed an anomaly in his activity logs—not something a guy like him would ignore or take for granted. So he’d started following money: numerous small under-the-radar amounts, from business accounts to shell companies and then to five separate
offshore accounts in Ireland. Transfers done using
his
access codes, and he’d bet his ass if he dug deep enough, the accounts would also be linked back to him.
He was
not
going back to prison.
No way.
He checked his e-mail—more reflex muscle memory than conscious thought—stalling for time while his brain figured out what to do next.
This whole deal had been one long con setting him up for the big fall. He’d put in four years of dedicated service—all those extra hours, the all-nighters during tax season. All the obsequious, sycophantic fawning. He ground his teeth. He could have fallen asleep over the keyboard and barfed all over the boss at the annual Christmas party and they still would have kept him on.
Sixty million US dollars and change.
His neck grew hot and he undid the top button of his white shirt. Strain made his fingers ache. He stretched them out. No
way
. He was fifty years old. No way was he going down for this. Last time he’d survived the joint because of one man. Next time he wouldn’t be so lucky.
The cubicles were dimly lit. It was late on a Friday night in the heart of downtown Chicago. Everyone else had gone home to loved ones or off to happy hour at Ernie’s. The boss’s office was upstairs, but Davis had seen him leave at five with Kujo, his head of security, whose real name was Kudrow. Kujo suited him better.
His eyes scanned the account numbers. What could he do? He took a screenshot and printed it out. An elevator dinged and his head shot up to look over the top of his cubicle. He blew out a sigh of relief when Rosalita, one of the cleaning crew, threw him a cheery wave before she started to vacuum.
Sweat ran down his sides despite the arctic blast of the AC.
Were they watching him? He glanced around, but cameras could be hidden anywhere. He had to act fast. If he left the money in place, it could be gone any second and, as a repeat offender, he’d
go down for a damn sight longer than last time. No one would believe a word he said. His gaze caught a photograph on his desk and his heart gave a squeeze.
Anna
. His beautiful daughter. She’d never forgive him.
What could he do?
And, with a flash of insight, he knew. He knew exactly what to do. Shut down the organization and expose them for the frauds they were. He pulled up directions to the nearest FBI field office and printed them out. He checked the time on his monitor and feigned a yawn. Yawning men did not steal every penny from their crooked bosses’ offshore accounts. It took fourteen seconds to type in the numbers he’d memorized. A split second of hesitation before he pressed “enter” and “confirm” to become a multimillionaire.
It was a pity money didn’t buy the important things like love, happiness, or reputation.
He moved the money again, sideways this time, breaking the chain and putting it beyond the grasp of these heartless thieves. And if someone in law enforcement used their brains and figured out who’d set him up nine years ago? Well, maybe it was time. He took a second screenshot. Printed it out. Insurance, in case the feds didn’t believe him. Then he deleted the browser history, logged out, and closed down the PC. With shaking hands, he stuffed the two screenshots into a manila envelope and added a sticky note briefly explaining what he’d found. Then he scribbled an old but familiar address on the front. Dug out his wallet and rifled through the pockets until he found a couple of stamps. He couldn’t take anything with him other than what he normally carried, but he surreptitiously slipped the photograph of Anna into his jacket pocket. Then he sauntered out as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was just another exhausted drone going home after a long week in the office.
“Good night, Rosalita,” he called as he pressed the call button for the elevator. “Have a great weekend.”
Enjoy it because you’re
probably about to be out of a job
. Inwardly he winced, but this wasn’t his fault. He was catching bad guys and it felt great to be in the driver’s seat for a change. He tapped his foot, waiting for the doors to open. Then he got in and concentrated on the burnished metal of the steel wall. There was a vague hint of his reflection. Blurry. Indistinct. He scratched his scalp. Balding.
Life hadn’t quite gone as planned.
Katie…
He swallowed the memories. His breathing was overloud, raspy in the closed metal box. He tried to relax his face.
God
. After an eternity, he landed in the lobby and hurried out through the huge glass doors of the twenty-story building in the heart of downtown Chicago. He headed to the nearest “L” station.
