Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set (40 page)

Nick’s face was stone hard as he watched her. She had to look away to pull herself together.

“Ronnie.” The tension in his voice drew her attention back to him. “Was there any sign of a break-in?”

“I don’t know. I was too upset to think of asking.”

“Did they steal anything?”

“I’m not sure. I feel like an idiot.” Her mouth twisted with self-deprecation. “Some reporter I am. Something horrible happens and I don’t even ask the right questions.”

“You were in shock,” he told her kindly.

Veronique nodded and took a deep breath. “Natasha didn’t mention how they got in or if they took anything of value. She said everything looked untouched…except for Slinky.” She stopped before him and put her closed fist against her mouth, wishing she didn’t have to continue.

“What else did she say?”

“There was a note left behind.”

Nick’s dark brows furrowed over narrowed eyes. “What was on it?”

Veronique cringed inwardly as she forced her voice to sound steady. “It said, ‘you’re next.” A fine sheen of cold sweat made her shiver and rub her arms.

Nick shot up and took hold of her elbow. “Ronnie, you need to come clean with me. What’s going on?” he demanded. His tone was taut with restraint and she wondered at what point he’d lose patience.

“Okay, just don’t get your shorts in a bunch when I tell you.” Veronique took a deep breath and expelled it forcefully. “Somebody fired a shot at me in a Miami hotel parking lot on the morning before I drove over here.”

He froze. “What! Are you telling me a sniper almost hit you?”

Veronique pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger and closed her eyes briefly. “Yeah.”

“Did you call the police?” Nick demanded.

“Of course. I spent over two hours at the station, but in the end they weren’t much help. They told me to be extra careful and report any other threat to my safety.”

“That’s it?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, that was the extent of it.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Since when do Miami police take a sniper lightly?” He stared at her with questioning eyes.

“I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “Random shootings happen in a big, cosmopolitan city like Miami.”

“That wasn’t random. Who is targeting you?” His unwavering gaze held her rooted to the spot.

“I’m not sure,” she hedged.

“You’re not sure? That means you have an idea,” he said, his gaze so forceful she averted her eyes and resumed pacing.

“Look at me.”

A quiet command in a strained voice. Veronique stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to meet his eyes. It was hard not to squirm under his piercing gaze. Blue fire blazed in his eyes as he caught her chin and pinned her with a gripping look.

“Ronnie.”

“I need to get back to New York today.” She hated to leave him, but given this new development, she had to.

“Hell no. You’re not leaving,” he said emphatically.

Hope blossomed at the change in him, despite the dire circumstances. When she’d first shown up, Nick had wanted to get rid of her ASAP and now he wouldn’t let her leave. If it hadn’t been for Slinky’s murder, she’d have been ecstatic.

“You’re asking me not to go?”

“Damn right. I’m
telling
you not to,” he said tersely.

She met his gaze and her heartbeat faltered the moment she saw his face was set in grave lines. His eyes glittered with suspicion and his shadowed jaw ticked rhythmically as he stared at her for a long, long time.

“It’s obvious you’re a target. Are you investigating someone who might want to harm you?” he asked.

She shook her head and averted her gaze again. She couldn’t meet his probing eyes, not when she was keeping information from him. Nervous tension coiled inside her, making her nauseated and jittery. She hated lying to Nick by omission, but she had to. She couldn’t divulge anything about what she was investigating until she had the final piece of solid evidence.

“You better not be lying to me.” He drew in a heavy sigh and shook his head. “We’ll discuss this later when you’re feeling better,” he said and walked out, his stride measured.

Chapter Seventeen

Veronique flinched at his departing tone. It felt wrong not to come clean with Nick, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t. Not yet.

She hugged herself, heartened that she and Nick had reached a new level of intimacy. She still couldn’t believe it. All these years she’d thought about him, yearning to connect as an adult, but never finding the right moment. When her career had taken off as a news reporter, she’d planned on seeking him out, but it was too late by then. He was already engaged to Elizabeth. Fred had broken the news to her gently, knowing her devotion to all things Nick. She’d followed his career with such pride, hoping someday she’d get a chance to tell him so.

Last night while he hadn’t told her he loved her back, he had made exquisite love to her
.
She would take that. He’d also been incredibly open about his childhood traumas and the deep-rooted shame of having a brutal, alcoholic father. She’d felt humbled and closer to him than ever. Hearing the anguish in his voice, she had desperately wanted to wipe away his traumatic childhood. He’d needed to expose the ugly part of his background, to see if she’d still be around in the morning. Little did he know how much she adored him. The protective, compassionate side of Nick made him all the more heroic and she loved him madly for it.

To lift her spirits she allowed herself a dream. Someday, somehow, they’d have a family of their own. He would make an awesome dad—one that his kids would adore and be proud of. She would hold onto that dream for some sort of consolation.

She still couldn’t believe or accept the awful news about Slinky. Her heart constricted in a vise of misery over her sweet kitty’s slaying, especially since there was nothing she could do about it. It was final—and so unfair. She wouldn’t be able to get another pet, especially if she didn’t know where she’d be in the next six months.

She’d probably never deliver the story on Nick she’d hoped would revive her career. She wouldn’t unless Nick was in agreement, which was a stretch at best. After he’d bared his soul to her last night, revealing his difficult childhood dealing with an abusive, drunk father and how ferociously he’d tried to protect his mom and sister, she respected his right to privacy. Out of allegiance to him, she’d fervently wanted to tell his side of the story, but she’d never do anything to hurt him. Ever.

Her life would never be the same. She suddenly craved having a home with Nick, having his baby and another kitty like Slinky. She wanted all of those things so badly it scared her. Why did it have to feel impossible and unattainable?
Because you want Nick,
she told herself morosely. She shouldn’t have told him that she didn’t care if they ever got married. She’d only said it so he would stop trying to push her away emotionally. Their physical connection was so in sync it made her ecstatic.

What would it take for him to hold her dear to his heart, to believe he couldn’t live without her? That’s how she felt about him. In spite of his rigid control and initial demands to be left alone, it hadn’t crushed his inherent warmth. Nick was a hot-blooded, generous lover and she couldn’t bear to imagine going back to their previous impasse. She couldn’t allow him to retreat to his reclusive life before he had a chance to fall in love with her. She loved him, but she had no idea if his desire for her would turn into love. She might never find out if she left. It was too disheartening to consider.

The need to wrap up her investigation ASAP was so pressing her hands shook with impatience as she rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out the files at the bottom. Studying the stark evidence in front of her renewed her determination to expose Elizabeth Remington’s illegal dealings. After the trial, Nick’s partner, Zack, had been convicted to two years in the federal penitentiary, but Elizabeth had escaped unscathed. Justice had been served when Nick was exonerated from the charges, but not his ex-wife—she was guilty as all hell. Veronique was sure of it.

She had started investigating Elizabeth when the trial ended. She’d flown to Nick’s home state of North Carolina and interviewed two high schools funded through his foundation. Both were success stories, rich in funds for the arts and computer sciences, and bourgeoning with sports programs.

But the third school funded by the foundation in Haiti was a disaster. The
École des Jeunes Travailleurs
, which translated to School of Young Laborers, was impoverished with tattered books, virtually no school supplies, substandard food and no computer literacy programs. The principal, Pierre Morais, was thankful for the little they’d received, but clearly he hadn’t gotten enough money to fulfill the original development plan after the initial deposit from the Cameron Hope Foundation. When she mentioned the scholarship recipients, he acted surprised and said it was the first he’d heard of any scholarships. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Disgusted, she’d turned away, not wanting to reveal her suspicion of corruption until she had sufficient evidence.

Digging deeper, Veronique discovered that an offshore trust company in Grand Cayman handled funding for the non-U.S. activities of the Cameron Hope Foundation. At first no one in the firm would meet with her, let alone answer her questions, until one of the assistants, a twenty-two-year-old girl named Maya, contacted her to meet at the hotel. Maya told her she was quitting her job and moving to the U.S. to marry a Marine. She wanted to set the record straight that she’d had no involvement in Elizabeth’s dealings, that she’d only
seen
records of money going into an account in Macau—China of all places. On the condition of anonymity, she’d handed over a paper trail of PDF documents and money transfers from Grand Cayman to Macau.

Veronique had a file full of evidence that a big part of the money supposedly going to
École des Jeunes Travailleurs
in Haiti was going through Grand Cayman, and through a cleverly designed arrangement, was being fraudulently funneled onto Macau. She had copies of bogus invoices, sub-account bank statements corresponding to
École des Jeunes Travailleurs
and copies of transfer confirmations to Alfa Bank of Macau.

She just needed the original payment instructions signed by Elizabeth authorizing the trust company to execute the monthly transfers. Veronique couldn’t wait to get her hands on the documents from Maya.

Anxious to get everything tied up and share the information with Nick, she dialed Maya’s number from her personal cell phone, not her work one, but the call went straight to voicemail. Preferring not to leave a message, she tried again several times.

When someone finally answered in the late afternoon, she was surprised to hear a male voice.

“May I speak to Maya?” she asked, deepening her voice.

“She’s not here.” The man’s tone was curt and his island accent heavy.

“Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Will, Maya’s brother. Who’s this?” He sounded suspicious.
“It’s Veronique, a friend of hers. When do you expect Maya to return?”

“I dunno. She left Grand Cayman three days ago and hasn’t been in touch.” His voice sounded strained.

A tremor of unease made her grip the phone tightly. Maya had told her she’d leave for the States in a week. Something—or someone—must have compelled her to leave earlier.

“Have you spoken to her in the past three days?” Will asked, bringing Veronique back to the present.

“No, we haven’t been in touch in a week. Did she leave a note?” she asked cautiously.

“No. She took all her stuff and left. The only thing she forgot was her phone.”

“Oh.” She paused. “If she gets in touch with you, please tell her to call Veronique. She has my number.”

“I have it too now,” Will replied in a way that gave her pause. Was that a subtle threat? She hung up before he could make more comments or ask questions.

Veronique immediately called Eric, the fact-checker who’d worked with her on many cases before losing his job with the station. They’d stayed in touch since then and he often said he owed her big time for the mistake that got him fired and her demoted. It was time to collect on his promises to do right by her.

When the call went to voicemail, Veronique said, “Eric, please call me back. I don’t want to use up my battery, so I’ll make this quick. See if you can find out the whereabouts of a girl named Maya Magnus. She works in Grand Cayman.” She heard the beep of another call coming in. “Never mind, I need to take this call. I’ll text if I need you,” she said and clicked in to the call. She was relieved to hear Maya’s voice.

“Maya! I was so worried about you. Where are you?” Veronique asked.

“I’m staying with my brother, Will. He has a studio in downtown Miami.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.” She breathed a huge sigh of relief. Knowing Maya was safe and out of Grand Cayman eased the anxious knot in her stomach.

“Will is fielding my calls. The office has been calling me nonstop since I quit.”

“I can imagine. How did they react to your resignation?”