Secret Sabotage, page 3
She looked at him with an arched eyebrow. “You tell me I’m bossy?”
He liked the way her eyes danced with amusement. “It takes one to know one.”
She gave a small laugh, the sound pleasing. Unaccountably, he had a feeling his earlier assessment of working with Simone Walker might be off. He might actually enjoy this as long as she realized he was in control.
* * *
Taking charge of the transfer of Ian to a safe house in Boston took a lot of coordination, not to mention cajoling Ian’s family, who wanted him within the bosom of the family estate. But Simone understood Ian’s vehement protest. He didn’t want to put his family in danger. An admirable gesture.
The man certainly had persuasive powers and seemed to genuinely care about those around him. His concern for her after she’d taken down the attacker had surprised her. Most protectees expected their bodyguards to take whatever injuries befell them without comment.
Under heavily guarded escort, with the cooperation of the Bristle Township Sheriff’s Department and the Colorado state police, they’d moved Ian from the hospital to a black Escalade. They’d then driven him to the Denver airport, where he and Simone took the Delaney private jet—with additional armed guards provided by Trent Associates—and flown to Boston’s Logan International Airport. Even more guards had accompanied Simone and Ian to the safe house.
Finally, the constriction in Simone’s chest eased and she could take a full breath.
As safe houses went, this one was top-notch. A well-appointed, luxury apartment on the top floor of a towering high-rise in the Back Bay neighborhood, not far from the Trent Associates office. The apartment would provide the kind of security she needed for Ian’s protection.
The apartment had a three-sixty view of the Charles River, Boston and Cambridge skylines, which she barely glanced at as she secured all the windows and drew the blinds closed.
“Only someone with superhuman, spiderlike abilities would be able to climb up here,” Ian said.
From his place on the posh leather couch, Ian tracked her with his eyes. She knew this because every time she glanced over, their gazes collided. The swelling around his face had lessened, but her awareness of him as an attractive man had only increased, much to her irritation.
“Would you please settle down?” he said. “You’re making me nervous.”
He was right, of course. No one could get to them on the eighteenth floor, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t take precautions. Just as she would take precautions to ensure she stayed emotionally safe from the too handsome man.
She turned and gripped the back of the dining room chair in front of her, forcing her expression to remain impassive. “We don’t know that we weren’t followed here. We can take all the safeguards we want, but if somebody’s motivated enough, they’ll always find a way.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
She winced at his dry comment and the underlining note of alarm. Keeping him safe also meant keeping him calm. “I just want you to be very aware of the stakes.”
“I am aware, thank you.” There was no mistaking the irritation in his tone. She didn’t blame him for being upset. This was a stressful situation and she had to admit that, so far, he was holding up well.
He breathed in as if to rein his ire. “I really appreciate how you navigated my family. They can be a lot sometimes.”
She smiled at the assessment. “Trust me, I know something about families who can be a handful.” With two older brothers and protective parents to contend with, she had experience in the delicate balance of making sure those she loved were heard, even if she didn’t always take their advice.
He patted the seat cushion next to him. “Come sit here and tell me about you. I know next to nothing about the woman I’m entrusting my life to.”
A fair enough request. She moved across the room, but instead of sitting next to him on the couch, which screamed of an intimacy she wasn’t about to share with the good-looking billionaire client, she took one of the side chairs. Safer that way.
Kicking off her flats, she tucked her feet underneath her. She would be glad when she could change out of these clothes and into something less constricting. But she couldn’t ever relax. Not fully. The incident in the hospital had proved that.
She glanced at the alarm panel near the front door. Watching the little green blinking light reassured her for the hundredth time that the apartment security system was armed and ready.
When she turned her focus back to Ian, the expectation in his warm brown eyes had her contemplating just how much to reveal of herself. For some reason, she wanted to open up to this man, something she rarely did. But getting close to a principle was not something she could allow. It wouldn’t be professional or smart. “My family immigrated to the US from Trinidad and Tobago to Detroit in the nineties. I was three years old.”
Ian nodded. “My father brought our family from Ireland to the US when I was just a little over four and Nick was a baby.”
She’d read that in his dossier. Interesting that they both had the common bond of not being native to the country they each lived in now.
“My mother went into law enforcement,” she continued. “She worked her way up to chief of detectives for the Detroit PD. She recently retired, but she was a firecracker investigator.”
“And you followed in her footsteps.”
Her lips curved in a rueful smile. “Yes, I did. Police academy and patrol then homicide.”
“Now bodyguard.” His eyes burned with curiosity. “Why the change?”
Not prepared to answer at this time, if ever, she pushed up from the chair. He didn’t need to know how she had failed to protect her best friend or the lengths she’d been willing to go to extract vengeance. Old grief and sorrow rubbed at the still-raw wound. “It’s late. We both need rest. Tomorrow we’ll go to your office and find out what you were doing the day you left Boston.”
She helped him to his feet and to one of the en suite rooms. The bags he’d had brought from his home in Colorado lay on the floor. She hesitated at the door. “Do you need help?”
“I’ll be fine,” Ian said. “You’ve been more than enough help today. I can take care of myself.”
She couldn’t ignore his flinch as he stepped away from her. The man had been in a helicopter crash, after all. Quickly, she reclaimed his side, slipping her arm around his waist and guiding him to the bed where he gingerly sat on the edge.
He waved her off. “I’ve got this.”
Moving away from him, she pointed to a small device on the bedside table. “You push that button and it rings throughout the whole apartment. You need anything, don’t hesitate.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“Not me,” she said. “James. My boss. He’s been at this for a long time.”
“I’ll have to remember to thank him.”
She nodded and dipped out the door.
In her own en suite room, she quickly changed into stretch pants and a T-shirt, thankful that her boss had had her to-go bag brought to the safe house. Then checked in with James, going over the arrangements for taking Ian to his company office in the morning.
After one more pass around the apartment, double-checking that all the windows were closed and locked, and the security alarm was armed, she couldn’t keep the fatigue at bay any longer. Ian was as secure as she could make him for the time being. Tomorrow would be another day to worry about his welfare.
She would be no good to Ian if she didn’t get some rest. She’d been up and going for the past thirty-two hours. Ever since she’d received the call to head to Colorado.
Opting to sleep on the couch in the living room, just in case, she grabbed the pillow from her bed and a blanket. She kept her firearm close. Protecting Ian was her job and she would not fail.
* * *
The next morning, Ian awkwardly dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. He wanted to shave, but with his swollen eye and the aches and pains everywhere else, he decided to forgo the razor. Everyone was just going to have to live with the stubble for now.
The smell of bacon and eggs drew him slowly out of his room and into the kitchen. Simone wore a white bib apron over a burgundy-colored, two-piece pant suit and a light pink button-down shirt. Her dark hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head. He really wanted to see her hair down and loose. Would the strands be silky soft or textured against his skin?
She met his gaze and he could feel a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. What on earth was he doing thinking about touching her hair? She was his bodyguard, not a potential romantic interest. Not that he dated much. Keeping his heart under wraps was as important to him as the company making a wide profit margin every year.
Simone set down the spatula in her hand and rushed around the kitchen island to wrap an arm around his waist to help him to the dining room table. He should protest. He was capable of making it on his own, but he couldn’t deny how nice it felt to lean on her, to smell the citrusy scent of her shampoo. It had been too long since he’d had any female company.
“Did you get some rest?” she asked.
“I slept like the dead.” He winced. “Wrong choice of words.”
“Indeed.”
He settled in his seat at the table and she went back to the kitchen. A few seconds later, she brought him a plate with several slices of bacon and perfectly cooked fluffy eggs. She set a fork and a glass of orange juice down in front of him, as well.
“Eat up,” she said. “You’ll need your strength.”
“Aren’t you going to join me?”
“Yes, I am.” She brought her own plate of food to the table and sat across from him.
They ate in companionable silence. It was nice not to have the urge to fill the space between them with talk. And he liked the way she ate with gusto. He appreciated women who weren’t afraid to have an appetite. Though, to be fair, he figured she probably worked out to keep her slim physique.
When the breakfast dishes were cleaned and put away, he watched Simone tuck her firearm into a shoulder holster underneath her suit jacket.
A stark reminder of the danger lurking outside the safety of the apartment.
He almost asked her for a weapon but decided he was in no condition to handle a gun. Though his right eye wasn’t as swollen this morning, his vision wasn’t 100 percent.
At the back exit of the apartment building, two armed men waited. Once Simone hustled Ian into the back of the black SUV and then settled in beside him, the two men got in the front.
Simone made the introductions. “Johnny Cruz and Milo Yang, Ian Delaney.”
The men nodded a greeting.
“Where to?” Johnny, a burly man with muscles that were unmistakable beneath his dark suit, fired up the engine.
His partner, Milo, wasn’t nearly as bulky, but Ian sensed the man was probably equally deadly. He’d moved with a lethal grace that spoke of the man’s agility. Ian wouldn’t want to tangle with either of the men.
Ian gave Johnny the address to the Delaney Holdings office building. They drove through light traffic and arrived without incident, for which Ian was grateful. He sent up a quick praise to God for the small favor. His bodyguards hustled him inside the lobby.
The building security guard, Tim rushed forward. The older gentleman, wearing a green sport coat with the company’s logo on the breast pocket, had a concerned expression on his lined face. “Mr. Delaney! We heard about your accident. You look awful.”
Johnny and Milo blocked Tim.
“It’s okay, I know Tim.” Ian chuckled as he stepped around the two men. “I appreciate the feedback.”
Tim flushed red. “Sorry, sir. It’s just...we didn’t expect you back anytime soon.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Ian gestured to his entourage. “We’re going up.”
Tim hurried to the bank of elevators. Using his key card, he let them into the private elevator that would take them to the floors occupied by Delaney Holdings.
On the fourteenth floor, Ian led them to his corner office, all the while nodding and murmuring greetings to the staff who expressed surprise at seeing him and wished him well.
His assistant, Phyllis Bixby, jumped when she saw him, her blue eyes rounding behind her colorfully framed glasses. In her midfifties, Phyllis had been with Delaney Holdings for the past twenty years. She wore her salted brunette hair short, the ends curling around her face and giving her a pixie sort of look. But, as always, she was dressed impeccably in a powder-blue skirt, matching heels and a cream-colored blouse. “Ian, what happened? We heard you were in a helicopter crash and that you were in the hospital. Why are you here? You should be home recovering.”
“I need something from my office, Phyllis,” he said.
She tsked her disapproval.
Ian was used to her mothering, so he assured her, “We’ll only be here for a short time.”
He opened the door to his office and strode inside, stopping abruptly at the sight that met him. The office had been ransacked. Papers strewn all over the floor. The bookshelves upended. His wall safe raided.
A deep sense of violation hit Ian in the chest. Had his attackers found what they were looking for? And if so, what had been worth trying to kill him?
THREE
Behind Ian and the bodyguards, Phyllis gasped. “Oh, no! When did this happened? I haven’t been in here since you left last Tuesday. Nobody’s been in here as far as I know.”
Ian seethed. Obviously, someone had infiltrated their secure building. Unless...an employee? He couldn’t fathom that one of the men or women in his employ would try to kill him, let alone tear apart his office. For what reason?
Simone walked past him to survey the damage then turned to look at Ian and his assistant. “I need you both to assess what’s missing—but don’t touch anything.”
Easier said than done. Ian walked farther into the room, careful not to step on papers or books. Glass from broken picture frames littered the gray carpet and glinted in the morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His desk drawers had been pulled open and left agape, the contents spilled on the floor. His desktop computer had been smashed, as if in a fit of rage.
Simone addressed Milo. “Inform James that there’s been a breach in the Delaney offices. We need a full dossier on every person who has access to this floor, including the security guards.” Milo nodded and walked out.
Ian faced her. “Tim didn’t have anything to do with this. I’ve known the man my whole adult life.”
Simone ignored his comment and talked to Johnny. “Call the local police and ask for a forensic unit. Nobody gets in here until the police arrive.” He nodded and stepped out, shutting the door behind them.
Phyllis moved to the bookcase and reached to right a framed photograph.
“Don’t touch!” Simone fairly barked. “Take a visual perusal and see if there’s anything obvious gone.”
Ian’s heart sank. He couldn’t think of anything he kept in this office that was worth stealing, letting alone attempting to do him in. He moved to the safe, which was now empty. He mentally ran through the contents.
Simone joined him. “What did you keep in there?”
“My US, Ireland and UK passports, some petty cash and a deposit box key.”
“What do you keep in your safe-deposit box?”
“Nothing worth killing over,” Ian replied. He thought about the last time he’d accessed his box, at least a year ago. “I have copies of the family wills. Some of my mother’s jewelry. A few mementos that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone but me.”
“Call the bank. See if anyone has tried to access your box. If not, tell them your key has been stolen and to alert the authorities if anyone tries,” Simone instructed.
He chaffed at being told what to do but acknowledged the logic of making the call. He took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his bank.
“Phyllis,” Simone said. “What’s missing?”
The older woman shook her head. “Nothing of import that I can tell.”
Ian hung up the call with the bank. Anger and frustration surged through him. “Someone posing as me came in two days ago and cleaned out the safe-deposit box.”
“We’ll ask the local police to pull the bank’s video to see if they can identify the suspect,” Simone said.
Pushing aside the disturbing thought that someone had his property, Ian focused on Phyllis. “What was I working on when I was here last?”
She thought for a moment before her face lit up. “You were going over the company’s P and L reports. Then you buzzed and asked me to bring you the financials for the Dresden Group.”
Dresden Group. He turned the name over in his head, but nothing clicked. He glanced down at the file folders and scattered pages on the floor. He had no recollection of making the request, let alone reviewing profit and loss reports. Heeding Simone’s warning not to touch anything, Ian said, “Can you pull those files for me again, please?”
Phyllis’s head bobbed. “Of course. I can do that.” She opened the door, nearly ramming into Johnny. She sidestepped him and went to her desk. The bodyguard’s eyebrows rose in question.
“We’re good here,” Simone said.
He nodded and shut the door again.
“What is this Dresden Group?” Simone asked.
Ian pinched the bridge of his nose. His head throbbed, pain radiating across his forehead and wrapping around his skull. “I have no idea. The name sounds familiar, but I can’t recall why.”
“It may come to you in time. Obviously, something you were looking at sent you running back to Bristle Township.”
