Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) (5 page)

“Consider it done.” Belinda sprang from the oversize burgundy chair leaving as quickly as she had arrived, closing her boss’s office door behind her.

Jewels leaned back and sighed. Pivoting the chair to face the window, she rested her elbows on the arms and steepled her fingers, thinking about the attacks.

This new victim made five dead in as many months. Five people who had been killed by what the Forest Service was describing as a true rarity: a grizzly bear that seemed to have acquired a taste for human flesh.

Gently rocking in her executive desk chair, she stared out the window, mulling over the Forest Service’s explanation. There was something about their
acquired taste
theory that gnawed at her innards. There had to be more to it. But what?

Then it hit her. “Men,” she blurted out, sitting straight up, eyes wide. “All of the victims have been male even though three of the five were hiking with female companions. This grizzly isn’t interested in women. After all, it is a
man
-eating bear. There’s the slant for the story.”

Turning to the computer, she typed feverishly to record her thoughts, then e-mailed them to Howard.

Jewels spun her chair around again to face the corner windows.

Outside two sparrows nibbled from the wooden A-framed bird feeder as it swung in the towering oak tree. After watching them for a few moments, a smile blossomed as she concluded the tiny feathered pair were probably lovers.

TAP-TAP. “Excuse me, Miz Andrasy?”

Jewels swiveled the chair around. It was Howard. Her eyes bugged. Nearly fifty years old, the sharp-dressing news reporter didn’t look a day over forty and could easily be mistaken for a bigwig attorney ... or a high-priced gigolo. “Wow.
Another
new suit?” she quizzed, signaling him to come in.

As if on a fashion runway, he sauntered into the room. Posed. Turned. “A custom tailored Armani.”

“You always look like a million bucks.”

“You would know.”

Pressing a finger to her chin, her face serious, “Hmm. Your boss must be paying you a lot if you can afford a suit like that.”

Waving his brows, “Only because she knows I’m worth it,” he returned.

“By the way, you’ve worked here for more than two years. When are you going to start calling me
Jewels
?” Grinning, he shrugged. “Maybe when you agree to let me treat you to a fountain Diet Coke over at Maverick,” he teased, settling into one of the wingback chairs in front of her desk.

Jewels tossed her head back in laughter. “Oh my, a big spender. I just couldn’t accept anything
that
extravagant.” For whatever reason, the moment she met Howard Dyson there was an instant connection, like being reunited with a big brother she had been separated from as a child. Flipping her long hair over her shoulder with a brush of her hand, she changed the subject. “Did you get my e-mail?”

“Yes, I did, and I’m rather bothered by it.”

“Oh?”

His handsome features tightened. “You think this grizzly only attacks men, right?”

Nodding in agreement, a puzzled look swamped Jewels’ face.

“And you assigned
me
to this story? What’s up with that? Trying to get rid of me by sending me to cover a story about a bear you think only eats men?” He paused, glanced down at his crotch then back up at her. “I
am
a man,” he said, biting his lip to maintain a straight face.

“Well, I never thought—”

“That I was a
man
?”

Shaking her head, “No, silly. I never considered you to be in danger because I figured you wouldn’t be camping or—”

“Come with me to the Uintas,” he said, his hypnotizing dark eyes locking on hers as he leaned forward in the chair. “You can protect me from the big, bad wolf ... I mean, bear.”

Swinging a reprimanding finger at him, she confessed, “Okay, you had me going for a minute. And speaking of going, skedaddle,” she said, playfully shooing him off with a few quick flicks of her wrist. “And if you want protection, take a gun. Now go track down that bear ... I mean, story.”

Flashing a sexy smile at her, he rose, “Very well,” he said with a sigh of disappointment. After taking a few steps toward the door, he stopped, reached in his pocket, spun around on his left heel. Walking toward her, “Almost forgot. This is my latest,” he said enthusiastically, waving a gold shield.

“You and your badges.”

“No different than you and your shoes.” Marching around to the side of her desk, he glanced down at her feet. “Let me see ‘em.”

Giggling, she stood up, modeled the bright pink stilettos that accented her pastel pink Anne Klein two-piece linen suit. “But, unlike your shields, my shoes aren’t illegal.”

“Maybe they should be,” he said, eyeing her shapely legs and arousing high heels.

A reserved smile played on her lips. Sometimes his tone pushed the limits of her willingness to flirt with an employee, but most of the time she excused it by reasoning he was more like family ... at least in her mind.

Extending his arm toward her face, he held the badge so she could see the inscription. “You gotta read this one aloud.”

“
Lead Babe Investigator, United States of America
,” she said with a laugh, returning to her desk chair. “How many does this one make in your collection?”

Rolling his eyes toward the top of his skull for a moment thinking, he replied, “Right around an even two hundred, but I believe you have at least double that in shoes.”

“Just don’t get caught flashing that badge around in public at some
babe
. It’s a Class B misdemeanor and if you get arrested, I’m not going to bail you out of jail,” she said, intentionally brandishing a devilish look.

Dumping the badge in his suit pocket, he straightened his index, middle and ring fingers on his right hand, squeezed them together and waved, “Scouts honor, Miz Andrasy, I’ll save it for behind closed doors.”

“You were never a scout,” she razzed, her eyes dancing with mischief.

With a sly grin, he waved his brows at her then turned on his heel, sashaying out the door.

• • •

EARLIER THAT MORNING IN A REMOTE LOCATION. It was never her intention to spy. She just happened to be passing the partially open door of the general’s office at the exact moment four of the compound’s most high-powered men were standing in a tight circle, talking, their tone hush-hush but somewhat heated.

If it wasn’t the devil that made her do it, then it was innate curiosity. Stopping in her tracks, she glanced up and down the gloomy hallway.

No one in sight.

Backtracking on tiptoe to the partially opened door, she softly leaned against the stone wall of the hallway, inching her body closer toward the door until she could stretch her neck into a position where her ears could hear all and her eyes could capture a peek.

“The Commander wants Phase One implemented within the next ten days to two weeks,” Cooman said.

“This is no good. Now we’re kidnapping women for the Commander’s pleasure,” Doc commented with disdain.

“Not women, just Julia Andrasy,” Cooman corrected.

Disgusted, “Since when did we start fulfilling his
personal
agenda?” Watters asked.

Tank snickered, slugging Watters on the shoulder. “No need to worry your pretty little head. I’ll take care of nabbing the bitch. All you have to do is keep her locked up.”

“That’s not the point—”

“As long as I’m the C.O. of this compound, whatever the Commander wants, the Commander gets, including Julia Andrasy. And if he wants to dress her up, tie her up, beat her up, or mutilate her, so be it. We owe him that much.”

“With all due respect, Sir, word has gotten out. The men are asking questions,” Watters pressed.

Cooman glared. “The men, or just
you
?”

Sighing, “I’m just saying, Sir...,” Watters said with a submissive tone, waving open hands in front of his body and lowering his head to look at the floor.

Tank leaned into Watters, “I recall you have a little sister in Denver—”

“Don’t even
think
about her,” Watters snarled, bolting to attention and clenching his fists, glaring at Tank.

“Simmer down, gentlemen,” Cooman barked.

Tank laughed. “Hey, I’m cool.”

Watters relaxed his fists, but continued to glare.

“Now let’s discuss what needs to happen before she gets here.”

Dread scorched her body like hot tar. This was worse than she had imagined. Before this moment she had only gleaned bits and pieces of information. Now it all made sense ... at least in a sick, gruesome kind of way.
Gotta warn her
, she thought.

Cautiously, once again on tiptoe, she retreated from the door as the men hammered out the details involved in the kidnapping and imprisoning of Julia Andrasy. But before she reached the crossing in the hallway, the tiniest of sneezes sneaked up on her. Despite her efforts to contain it, the little expulsion of air from her nose might as well have blared like a tripped security alarm.

Abruptly the hubbub of brisk voices went silent.

Shit! Had the wimpy sneeze betrayed her? Not taking any chances her eavesdropping may have been discovered, she hurriedly sneaked to the intersection of hallways, turned the corner, and bolted toward the stairs.

Voices urgently talked over one another. A moment later, “Bring her back,” a male voice hollered. The general’s she presumed.

During the nearly two years she had resided at the compound, it had become apparent death was a common punishment for seemingly minor infractions. The message: do exactly as you’re told, no more, no less, or be killed. No doubt, regardless of the special skill set she brought to the organization, overhearing a privileged conversation would warrant a death sentence if they caught her. Galloping down the familiar dungeon-like hall and around a sharp corner, the exit came into view.

“Where’s the fire, Honey?” called out the guard standing at the top of the staircase, watching with amusement as the only female residing in the compound rushed toward the stairs.

“Tampon run,” she snapped, leaping up the stairs, two at a time.

Recoiling his head, he wrinkled his nose, repulsed. “TMI.”

Too much information.
No shit. That was an understatement, considering what she had just overheard. “Make way, I’m PMSing really bad,” she growled at the guard.

Plastering his body against the wall behind the door, he cleared a path for her to easily breeze past him once she reached the top.

“Stop her! Don’t let her out!” a male voice boomed from deep within the dark hallway.

Too late. With a good twenty-foot head start, she was nearly free and planned to stay that way. Not slowing down or giving the guard a chance to stop her, she burst through the entry, practically slamming the big metal door in the guard’s face.

A cool breeze, warm rays of morning sunshine and the smell of pine trees greeted her, but she didn’t take the time to appreciate them. Avoiding capture was paramount if she were to warn her high school friend of their sinister plan.

Gravel crunched beneath the frantic hammering of her army boots as she tore toward her shiny red Jeep Wrangler. Thank God she had left the keys in the ignition. Clearly, immediate escape was a matter of life or death for her ... and for her friend.

“BY THE WAY....”

Jewels jumped reflexively at the sound of Belinda’s booming voice. She whirled the chair around to face the door, watching as her secretary enthusiastically bounced through the entry. “It’s Thursday,” Belinda said, her tone playful, big elk-brown eyes sparkling. “And guess what? Your FBI guy called, again.”

Belinda Parker, her busty twenty-seven-year-old secretary—whom she regarded more as a little sister than an employee—was five-foot-five-inches tall, a pleasantly plump one-hundred-forty pounds with chestnut hair cut into a sexy short crop and gelled into trendy spikes.

Rolling her eyes, Jewels sighed.
Again
was right. For the past three months Theodore Hines, FBI Special Agent In Charge of the Salt Lake office, had been calling once a week, every Thursday, wanting to take her out on a date. “Thanks, but no thank you,” she said, sounding exhausted.

Crimping her brows, Belinda lowered herself into the inviting wingback chair opposite Jewels’ desk. “Can we talk? I mean, as friends, not as you being my boss?”

Concern wiped Jewels’ face. “Certainly. Let me shut the door,” she said, pushing back from her desk, rapidly walking across the room and closing the door. Instead of returning to the seat behind her desk, she sat next to Belinda in the matching chair.

Belinda leaned forward, patted Jewels on the knee. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”

“About what?”

“You and Agent Hines.”

Exhaling forcefully, Jewels collapsed her back into the chair and rubbed her forehead.

“Robert would want you to move on—”

“It’s complicated—”