Sweet Reward (8 page)

Odd how she was looking forward to the challenge.

Package delivered. Payment received. Transaction complete
.

Garwood Kinsey pressed Send, and another profitable business deal was complete. One hundred fifty grand in the big boss’s coffers, seventy-five in his, and the other twenty-five went to the grunts—the sleaze and slime who oozed through the world doing whatever they could to make a buck. They were the most disgusting forms of humanity, but he was glad they existed.

The boss would be pleased. This was their fifth transaction in as many months and the seventh this year. They were both really racking up the dough. Garwood had already made over a half a million dollars for the year. Not bad for a farm boy from Pennsylvania who literally hadn’t had a pot to piss in until he was out on his own.

He stood and stretched his big body, wincing at the popping of his muscles. His day job of supervising a small group of data-entry people for a major charity was mind-numbingly boring, but it paid the rent and the utilities and bought his groceries. The money he made on this new deal would go into his savings with the rest of his earnings. He’d been saving for only three years and already had a couple million and change. Another year or so and he’d be buying that mansion in Bermuda he’d always
dreamed of. Hot sun and even hotter women. He’d never have to work again.

A chime from his computer told him he had a new message. He wasn’t expecting a response to his previous email. That was a completed job; nothing more to do but pat himself on the back and put the money in the bank. Garwood plopped back into his chair, and as he read the message, a smile spread across his face. Another job. This one here in Paris.

He jotted down the details and then deleted the email. Every other day, he wiped out his entire email system. That was one of the things his boss liked the most about him. He was a computer genius. No one could trace these transactions. Nothing could tie him or his boss to the sad and oh-so-tragic abduction of infants. Why, he’d even heard the man express sympathy for a couple of the families and outrage that the police had not been able to catch the evil fiends.

He picked up his disposable cellphone and started making the calls. In a week, two at the most, he’d be sending another email with the exact same message. And he’d be that much closer to his dream.

   The instant Mia opened the door to her apartment, a wave of loneliness swamped her. Even though this was only a temporary residence, she almost regretted not having rented a small house outside the city. At least she would have been able to see green grass and breathe fresher air. But if she had done that, she knew, she would have missed her fur family even more.

Her friend Allie was staying at her house and watching over the animals. Still, Mia missed and worried about them. Each one was a rescue and had been through enough trauma. Putting them in a kennel for weeks wasn’t something she’d been willing to do.

She pressed her back against the closed door as her mind raced with what she needed to accomplish. She had only a few hours before the meeting back at LCR. First, unpack; then a trip to her favorite store in Paris for some much-needed personal touches to spice up the decor. She’d rented the apartment furnished, but its cream walls and blah furniture screamed for color. Then, on her way back from shopping, she’d stop at the market and grab some groceries.

Doing what she’d done since she was seventeen years old, she went through the apartment and checked the closets. Thankfully, there weren’t that many and they were extremely shallow. The largest of them could barely hold a teenager, let alone two grown men.

With that ritual completed, she dug out her cellphone from her purse and made the call she’d been dreading since she had learned that she was coming to Paris. She needed to let her parents know she was in Europe.

Informing them that she was in another country was the only promise she’d made to them. That way, when there was “trouble”—and to her parents, there was always “trouble”—her father could be prepared to call his contacts and smooth out the problems.

There had only been that one incident, and it had been years ago. Still, it had earned her the title of troublemaker of the family. To be fair, being called out of a meeting at the White House and told that your daughter had just kicked the balls of a prime minister and was now sitting in jail had probably not been the best news a parent could receive. The fact that the bastard had grabbed her breast and made a very vulgar remark had been no excuse. At an early age, she’d learned how to get out of such a predicament. One second before her foot went between his legs, she had considered that alternative. However, the kick was so much more effective and final.
Once she had been released from jail, she’d never had to be around the creep again.

That had been the first real indication to her parents that she wasn’t the same person she’d once been. The psychologist had called it a total personality reversal. Mia had called it finally getting a life.

The phone barely got through one ring before her mother, Phoebe Maxwell, answered with “Mia, what’s wrong?”

The typical greeting barely registered. “Just wanted to let you know I’m in Europe.”

In the heartbeat of silence that followed, Mia heard a thousand questions. However, her mother only said, “That’s wonderful, darling. Then you’ll be able to come for your sister’s birthday, won’t you?”

“No, Mom, I can’t. I’m on a job.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mia. We rarely see you anymore. The least you can do is come visit us when you’re in town.”

“Mom, I’m in Paris, you’re in Rome. That’s not exactly next door.”

“It’s closer than Chicago.”

“Maybe when the job is over, I can come for a quick visit. I’m not making any promises.”

“Of course you’re not, Mia. We stopped expecting those years ago.”

As much as she wanted to deny the sting, it was there. She knew she was a major disappointment to her parents. The reminder wasn’t necessary, but her mom was excellent at those tiny little jabs.

“How’re Dad and Nadia?”

“They’re doing well. You’re father’s still considering retirement, and your sister is in Switzerland with some friends.”

Her father, Quinton Maxwell, was an American diplomat
and had been considering retirement for as long as Mia could remember. He would never retire unless forced at gunpoint—and perhaps with a machete too.

And Nadia, her sister, was the perfect diplomat’s daughter, beautiful and outgoing—an asset to her parents, not a hindrance or embarrassment. Mia had never bothered to tell them any different. They saw Nadia the way they wanted to see her.

Since she didn’t want any questions from her mother she couldn’t answer, she stayed with safe subjects: How’s the weather? What happened at the last embassy party? Who’s engaged, divorcing, or having an affair?

Her mother was the soul of propriety, but she also loved to gossip. Since she had few people she could share secrets with, Mia was often her sounding board. Slipping in an earphone, Mia unzipped her luggage and, while making the appropriate listening noises, unpacked her bags.

Half an hour later, Phoebe had finally run out of gossip and Mia was completely unpacked. Multitasking at its best.

“Well, darling, I must fly. Call and let us know when you’re coming. Smooches.”

“Okay. Give my love to Dad.”

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt for you to call your sister. Blood ties should be stronger than old hurts.”

Mia shook her head. She’d heard it a thousand times before. They thought she still held a grudge against her sister for stealing her fiancé. That really wasn’t the reason. Lewis had made it more than clear that a political career was in his future. Mia had been a viable candidate, but when she’d told him she wanted a different kind of life, Lewis hadn’t been happy. He’d been ripe for Nadia’s schemes. A brief affair had commenced … one that had ended badly. He was now married to another diplomat’s
daughter and would probably run for the Senate in the next election.

Even though there was only a two-year age gap between them, Mia and Nadia had never been close. They were too different and had always wanted completely opposite things. Even before the event that had changed her life, Mia had recognized the differences. Nadia thrived on glitz, glamour, and political intrigue. Mia had found some of it enjoyable; for the rest, she had faked her enthusiasm. She had been expected to act a certain way, and she had. But then everything had changed, and so had Mia.

Telling her parents that she and Nadia heartily disliked each other had never been an option. She let them keep their illusions that they had two children who didn’t hate each other. It just made for a more peaceful existence all around.

“I’ll try, Mom, but my job’s taking much of my time these days.”

As expected, a hurried goodbye followed that statement. Any mention of Mia’s job elicited either a change of subject or the end of the conversation. She was used to that, too.

Mia gave the drab, utilitarian apartment another sweeping glance and assessed what she could do to make it as homey as possible. The place was in desperate need of both color and comfort. She grabbed her jacket and headed toward the door. If she hurried, she might be able to get in a quick workout at LCR. After seeing Jared again, her body needed some kind of physical release. And since what it wanted was never going to happen, she would take second best.

She had a feeling she was going to be working out a lot in the next few weeks.

Jared ducked, avoiding the fist that came at his head. He whirled, kicked out, and knocked his opponent on his ass. The man was back on his feet in an instant, coming at Jared and tackling him to the ground. Cursing, Jared put his forearm against the man’s sternum and pushed hard, putting several inches between them. Using that space, Jared raised a knee and jabbed his opponent in the inner thigh. His opponent cursed, rolled away, and then jumped to his feet.

“Hell, man, a couple of inches to the right and you’d have some explaining to do with McKenna,” Lucas growled.

A smile twitched at Jared’s mouth. The idea of him explaining to McKenna why her husband would be sexually indisposed for a few days was the first humorous thing he’d heard in a while.

“She’d probably send me a thank-you gift.”

Lucas snorted. “Don’t count on it. She’s rather fond of me.”

Yeah, he knew that. In fact, Lucas and McKenna were actually the first couple he’d been around that genuinely loved each other. He’d never seen a good marriage growing up, which might account for his poor decisions in his own.

Taking a long swallow of water, Jared eyed his friend. This was the first time since his divorce that they had sparred. And it was also the first time that he’d even had Lucas over. He’d bought this old warehouse after leaving IDC, but it wasn’t until his marriage ended that he’d done anything with the place. It had sat empty for years. When he’d made the move back to Paris after his divorce, renovating the giant space into a livable apartment and gym had consumed most of his free time. He hadn’t seen Lucas much. His fault, not Lucas’s. He’d cut himself off from everyone.

“McCall call you in for the meeting this evening?”

Lucas nodded as he tossed his empty water bottle into the garbage can in the corner. “Said he was bringing in someone new.”

Jared still couldn’t believe it. Mia Ryker didn’t belong at LCR. She was a young innocent playing at a dangerous game. What the hell was McCall thinking?

“You don’t look like you approve,” Lucas said.

“I don’t. You’ll understand when you meet her. She’s not cut out for this kind of life. Can’t believe McCall agreed to let her work this case.”

“The man’s rarely wrong about people. Did this woman do something wrong or do you just dislike her on principle?”

Dislike Mia? It’d be a hell of a lot easier if he did.

“She did nothing wrong. She’s just not LCR material. She lives outside Chicago in a house that looks like it belongs to a 1950s sitcom family, with five dogs and a cat. Her informant was like a relative of hers—really upset her when he got killed—and she’s got no self-preservation instincts. She threw herself into a dangerous situation and didn’t even stop to consider the consequences.”

Lucas arched a brow, his mouth twisting in a wry smile. “That so? Other than the pets and the house, sounds like someone else I know.”

“There’s a hell of a lot of difference between taking chances when you know what you’re doing and you’re trained and being a person who dives into danger without any idea of the outcome.”

“Ah, I see.” Humor sparkled in Lucas’s eyes. “So when you single-handedly walked into a room full of armed guerrillas a few years back, you knew what the outcome would be.”

Jared glared at his friend. There was nothing worse
than having your past thrown back at you at the most inopportune times. “I lived to tell about it; they didn’t.”

“Yes, after losing half the blood in your body. Guess you knew you were going to live through that, too.”