VANISHED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (Edgars Family Novel) (12 page)

She thought he was kissing her out of pity? Couldn’t she see how wrong she was?

Stalking across the room, he stood inches from her, her bent head just below his chin. “Abby.”

She shook her head, her gaze locked on the floor.

“Dammit.” Cupping his hands around her face, he lifted her head. “Look at me.”

When she did, he read both pain and a shadow of the place she’d retreated to inside.

“You’re right. You are a trained professional. Your skills and that fascinating brain of yours will help us find your friend. And you’re right, you can handle this case. But you’re wrong about the kiss.”

When she opened her mouth to protest. He hushed her with his thumbs on her lips.

“I fought the battle to hold you and love you five years ago because we both had too much to learn, too much growing to do.” Her eyes widened at his confession. “So I’m not going to let you hide from this thing between us. If you thought I kissed you out some sort of pity, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Once again he lowered his mouth over hers, no hint of compassion in his. It was a conquering. Holding her head firmly in place, he plundered her soft, open mouth with all the pent up fear and desire he’d held in check since the moment he’d seen her standing in the middle of that bloodbath in her friend’s condo. He tasted her sweetness and heat, stroking her tongue with his in short and long thrusts, coaxing her to follow his lead, finally eliciting a tortured moan from her.

The sound soothed the raging need to claim her, to force her to admit what he knew. Pity was the last thing he felt for her.

Slowly he eased back, willing his heart—and his now throbbing cock—to realize retreat and patience would win the battle more than brute force. Sliding his lips off hers, he leaned his forehead against hers a moment, breathing deep. “I’ll let you go for now, Abigail. But this thing between us? It’s not over. Not by a long shot.”

He released her, grabbed his laptop and phone then headed to the other room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You’re still following the police and not the people he met with?”

Snake hated when the boss got all I’m-smarter-than-you over the phone at him. He wasn’t some lame rookie. “Don’t sweat it, man. We’ve got eyes on them. Knew I couldn’t follow both, so Tracker picked them up outside the bar.”

He knew his man wouldn’t get caught tailing the pair, the guy’d been tracking since he was a kid out hunting with his old man in the boondocks. Knew a thing or two about being invisible.

The answer seemed to satisfy the bossman, since his attitude in his voice changed. “Did you get a picture of them?”

“Couldn’t from the spot at the bar. Not without letting them know I was interested, you know what I mean. Ain’t no way you’d miss them though, she was one hot female.”

There was a pause on the other end as the bossman considered that piece of info.

“Tell Tracker to get me a picture anyway,” he finally said. “And let me know if they get on the move. The bitch still hasn’t told us what she did with the package and we have product to move.”

The phone went dead in his ear.

“Asshole.”

The guy demanded respect, but didn’t have a clue how to return it. Snake shook his head. Someday he’d be at the top and his crew would look up to him without commanding it. He hit the button to call Tracker.

“Where you hanging, Tracker?”

“West side. Burger place ’cross the street from their hotel.”

“The pair still inside?”

“Beemer’s still where he parked it. No one’s come near it.”

“Let me know if they do and the bossman wants a pic of them, if the opportunity presents itself. Once the cop settles in his crib for the night, I’ll spell you.”

“S’all good. Got some eats. Place to hang. Like hunting.”

That was Tracker. Simply the facts. Convo not necessary. “Word. Let me know if your prey goes on the move.”

“Roger that.”

This time Snake ended the call. Just in time, too. The cop exited the station on his way to his car again. Snake pulled out to follow several cars behind him.

“Wonder where you’re off to?”

* * * * *

Aaron Jeffers glanced in the rearview mirror as he turned onto Superior Avenue, heading to Hollister-Klein. The brown Cutlass three cars back made the turn, had been making them since he left the precinct. Edgars was right. He had a tail.

Question was—which case was he being tailed for? His guess it was the missing Mathews woman. He glanced at the picture of the beautiful blonde on top of the notebook he’d set on the passenger seat. What had she stumbled into? And who wanted her silenced? Hopefully her boss at Hollister-Klein would have some answers or a clue to help him narrow his search.

As he turned into the parking lot of the company’s corporate headquarters he watched the car tailing him drive past the lot entrance and head on down the road. Once it passed he read the last three numbers of the plate—996. He parked then pulled out his phone, dialing the Department of Motor Vehicles. “Hey, Mary Jo, it’s Aaron Jeffers.”

“Well, hey Detective Jeffers,” the lanky blonde answered in her Southern drawl that always made him think of hot sheets and sticky summer nights. “What can I do for y’all?”

How he’d love to answer that honestly, but her husband was six-foot-four, built like an offensive lineman and ran a construction company. Rumor had it he loved three things—beer, brawling and Mary Jo, and not in that order.

“Can you run a plate for me?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. What is it?”

“Easy Sam Charlie 996.”

“Take me a few minutes.”

“Just text it to me when you can. I’ve got a meeting.”

“Sure thing.”

Disconnecting the call, he pocketed his phone. Mary Jo’s search would probably lead to the plates of a stolen vehicle or plates stolen
from
a vehicle. He’d also bet money that when he came back out, the Cutlass would be parked on the other side of the street.

Grabbing the notebook, he slipped the photo inside and headed in to meet with the Hollister-Klein Chief Financial Officer, Ryan Baxter and Brianna Mathews’ boss.

Walking into the glass-and-steel high-rise left him with the same crawling-skin feeling he experienced every time he had to meet someone at a high-end lawyer’s office. Same marble floors, same dark-oak wood, same uncomfortable modernistic furniture in the lobby and same pretentious artwork on the walls. After he was shown into the Baxter’s office, he wasn’t disappointed when the arrogant ass waved him to a seat while he finished a phone call.

“Just get back to me as soon as you get those reports done,” the man snapped into the phone, then set it aside. “Sorry about that Detective…”

“Jeffers.”

“Detective Jeffers, we’re a little shorthanded today and have quarterly earnings reports to get out.” Baxter leaned back in his chair and stared out over the mahogany desk at Aaron. “You said you wanted to talk with me about Brianna Mathews? I’m not sure what information I can give you. I have no idea what happened to her. All I know is what was reported on the news last night.”

If the man wasn’t telling the truth, he was a very good liar. Luckily, he had a knack of always finding the truth, even against liars who were experts. Aaron plastered on his I-mean-you-no-harm look and opened the notebook on his lap. “I’m really here just to get some background on Ms. Mathews.”

“I’ll be glad to help in any way I can, but I do have a late evening meeting in about fifteen minutes.”

Too busy to talk about a missing, possibly injured, employee. The man dropped another few notches in his esteem. “Then let’s get to it. How long did Ms. Mathews work for Hollister-Klein?”

“She started in the clerical division about six years ago.”

“So she was a secretary?”

Baxter leaned in and opened a file on his desk, reading from Brianna’s employment history. Either the man was telling the truth and didn’t know the victim well, or he wanted to make sure he distanced himself well in front of the police. “An entry-level accounting clerk, I believe. She was well organized and had some ability with numbers, so she was promoted steadily over the last few years.”

“And what was her latest responsibility?” He asked this even though he'd gotten the information from Abigail earlier in the day. No need to let anyone know he knew more than they might want to divulge. What people chose to leave out was almost as telling as what they thought was important to include in an interview.

“Recently, she took over payments and accounts receivable.”

Jeffers made a note of that. “Exactly what does that position entail?”

“She was the head of that department with several accountants beneath her. They handled incoming payments from our clients, keeping track of what had been billed and what was still outstanding.”

“Who did she report to?”

A flash of something, surprise or wariness, flashed in the older man's eyes. “All department heads in accounting report directly to me.”

So he knew her better than he'd wanted to admit.

“Was she good at her job?”

“Her skills were highly appreciated.”

Aaron glanced at the photo inside the notebook once more and wondered if Baxter was talking about her math skills or more personal ones. “Did she have any enemies?”

“Enemies?”

“Anyone who might want to harm her? Disgruntled employees in her department? Anyone she might've beaten out for her position who thought she didn’t deserve it?”

Baxter shook his head. “Oh, no. Everyone loved Brianna. I doubt you’ll find whoever did this at Hollister-Klein.”

The man was quick to defend his company, almost as if trying to divert any attention from them. Interesting. Okay, Baxter wanted to go another route, he’d happily oblige him. “Hollister-Klein is an import/export company?”

The CFO sank back into his chair, happily relaxing at a question about information that anyone could easily obtain by visiting their corporate website. “Yes, we deal with exporting products from all over the country internationally, as well as bringing in products our consumers want to buy here.”

“You also do some shipping of equipment and hardware for the military.” It was a statement. He wanted the man to know he’d done more than cursory research on the company.

“Yes,” Baxter swallowed and leaned in over his folded hands on the desktop—his jaw locking firm and his lips flattening out in a thin line. The friendly period of cooperation was over and he meant business. “But that information is classified. As I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“I understand. But because of that contract aren’t all your employees required to pass a security clearance to work here?”

“Those that will come into contact with classified information, yes,” Baxter finally said.

“And was Ms. Mathews one of those employees?”

The muscle in the other man’s jaw jumped. Now he was uncomfortable. Aaron lifted the corner of his mouth while he waited for an answer.

“When she became the head of the accounts division she had to pass a clearance check, yes.”

“And having done that would she have access to any sensitive government information?”

“If it had to do with payments and outstanding accounts, she could.”

“I see.” Jeffers made a note in his book, but mostly giving Baxter a chance to squirm. Didn’t take long.

“Now, I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Detective, but Brianna…er, Ms. Mathews wouldn’t have been interested in or accessed anything other than the files she’d need to carry out the duties her job required. I can assure you that we follow protocols set to protect all our dealings with any highly classified information.”

“I’m sure Hollister-Klein does,” Aaron said, mostly to get the other man to relax again. He made a note in his book to delve into the company’s government contracts, possibly with Edgars, whom he suspected knew more about the company than he had admitted. “Tell me what kind of a woman, Ms. Mathews is?”

“She’s sweet. Friendly. Everyone loved her.”

“Women as well as men?”

Baxter’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the question. “Yes, as far as I know. Why do you ask?”

“There were a number of pictures in her condo of Ms. Mathews with different men, but none with women. Do you know if she had any close female friends?”

“Never heard her mention anyone, but I’m sure she did. Don’t all women?”

“I suppose.”

Baxter seemed to consider the idea, then said, “But come to think of it, I’ve never heard her talk about any girlfriends.”

Another interesting piece of the puzzle. Either Ms. Whitson was lying about being friends, which he highly doubted, or Ms. Mathews had kept her a secret.

Baxter made a point of looking at his watch, a clue that he wanted the interview over. Luckily for him, Aaron had gotten quite a bit of information and was willing to let him off the hook—for now.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Baxter.” He closed his notebook, stood and shook hands with the businessman, whose palms were now a little damp.

* * * * *

The damn woman was driving him crazy.

Luke dropped the laptop on one of the beds in his room and stalked to the window. His own hunger for her wasn’t helping the matter any.
Focus.
That’s what he needed to do. Focus on the situation and keeping her safe. The tail might be following Jeffers, but it brought home the need to find a more secure place for Abby. If they were in his hometown of Columbus, he’d have several possibilities. Here in Cleveland he had few options.

Luckily, he had one source who might be able to help him.

Leaning against the window frame to watch the parking lot and street below, he hit the dial button and listened to the ringing.

“This better be good, kid,” was all the gruff voice on the other end of the line said in lieu of a greeting.

“Nice to talk to you, too, Castello.” Luke didn’t try to hide his momentary amusement. Only a few years younger than his older brother Dave, the U.S. Marshal had been adopted into the Edgars family after he helped save the life of Katie, his other brother Matt’s wife. Frank Castello was always grumpy as a bear coming out of hibernation and Luke had no end of enjoyment needling him, but today he had more important things to discuss. Sobering, he watched traffic on the street a moment. He didn’t like to admit this. “I need your help.”