Chapter Sixteen
Cade
I step off the elevator and study Lola. Her face is pinched as she jots down something in her planner and clicks through website pages. I’m too far away to see what she’s working on, but she appears to be in a groove. I’m still in shock that she hasn’t turned in her resignation and left town.
It’s been a few days since I’d walked, more like ran, out of her house, which was a chickenshit thing to do. We might not be destined to be together, but she deserves better than me avoiding her and cowering in the corner.
Hell, Truman trusts me to run his operation when he’s in the field. I should act like an adult and not dodge into supply closets when she comes down the hall. No one needs that many boxes of three-hole punches in their office.
Before Truman left, he’d asked if I was interested in participating in the extraction of an American diplomat who’s being held in Afghanistan. As I have every other time, I turned him down. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that.
I haven’t been back in the field since my medical discharge from the Navy two years ago. I don’t trust I’ll make the right decisions in the heat of the moment. Because of my miscalculation, two of my team members, along with myself, were injured. It was supposed to be an easy in and an easy out, but it wasn’t.
Her computer screen is filled with the image of a distinguished, well-dressed man standing at the helm of a yacht. He’s wearing white shorts and an unfastened matching button-up shirt.
Business or pleasure? My jaw tightens. If this is the kind of guy who interests her, I don’t stand a chance. I don’t want to know who he is, but the words spill out of my mouth anyway. “Who’s the guy?”
She jumps and twists her chair in my direction, spinning around in a half-circle. “You startled me.” She turns back to the screen. “This is Randall Maitland. Mr. Truman has me looking into a string of thefts. Four individuals have been present at each of ten events in which jewels or other valuables were either stolen during the event, after the event, or from individual homes of attendees. Twice, jewels were robbed from the victims during the event, but no one saw anything. Our client is the insurance agency for eight of the thefts. Obviously, they’re getting a little upset that the perpetrators haven’t been caught and the merchandise retrieved.”
“Do you know him?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve seen him around. He runs in the same social circles as my father and owns an investment company. I’m familiar with a few of his clients.” She uses the mouse to scroll up the page. “I don’t know any of the other potential perpetrators, but I’ve been researching everything I can find on them over the last couple of days.”
Thank God. Investigating from the safety of her desk is relatively danger-free unless she gets a paper cut. This way, I don’t have to worry about her jumping into the middle of something with reckless abandon. “That’s good.”
She looks around the office and frowns. “Where did everyone go?”
“It’s past quitting time. Again. You seem to make a habit of working overtime.”
She flushes. “I don’t claim it.”
“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. The hours you work are between you and Truman.” I swallow. “Do you mind if I have a seat?” I point to the second chair in her cubicle. The workspace is large enough for both of us to sit without bumping into each other. I should be safe.
“Yes. Have a seat.” She motions to the vacant chair. “Earlier today, I spoke with a client of Randall’s. She and I went to college together. While we weren’t close, we were in a few classes together.” She tilts her head. “Something feels off about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“He seems to have the world at his feet.” I pick up a couple of pens off her desk and tuck them into her cup holder. I’m trying not to be jealous of his perfect persona, but I’m struggling more than I want to admit.
She leans back. “That’s what it is. He appears too good to be true. The other potential suspects seem too unorganized to pull this off.” Her eyes drift back to Randall’s image. “But this man is smart. Why would he risk everything to steal jewels and other trinkets when he has yachts and mansions?”
“Bored? In over his head? There could be any number of reasons.”
“I attempted to get through his firewall, but I was only able to view some documents. Nothing that leads to his client files or financial accounts.”
“What?” I cough. What in the hell? Who is this woman? And how in the hell did she learn to hack into computer systems?
She shrugs. “It’s not a sophisticated system. Now, the sensitive stuff, he apparently has an additional layer of protection to keep people out, but I think Jason could get in. I’m going to see if he can look tomorrow. I want to get a list of his clients that aren’t documented on his website.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. If he ever finds out you broke through his firewall, he’s going to be out for blood.”
After she purses her lips, she says, “I was careful. I didn’t leave a trail back to here or to me.”
I shake my head and stare at her. “How did you learn to hack into a computer? Was there some special class in a private school that I missed out on by getting a public education?”
“No. No class. Jennifer Downs, one of my father’s security staff, taught me all about computers. She, like Ms. Lue, was concerned I wouldn’t be prepared to live on my own when I grew up. She didn’t want someone taking advantage of me. I learned how to get past computer and home security systems, clone cell phones, and install listening devices.”
I stare at her for several seconds with my mouth gaping open. What in the fuck? “Who were these women, and how many of them were there?”
“They were ex-military. And there were three of them.” She stacks a bunch of papers into their files and arranges them on her desk.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what did the last one teach you?”
“Mrs. Rogan? She taught me to cook.”
“Cook?” I rest my ankle over my knee and wait. She’s fascinating. When I first met her, I imagined her yearbook caption was ‘Most likely to marry a millionaire and never lift a finger for anything.’ I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong about someone, and the more time I spend with her, the more I enjoy listening to her talk.
“Yes, she was our chef.”
“Did she teach you how to make bombs out of pantry items?”
“No, just to cook.”
“For some reason, I doubt that’s all. Not that I’m trying to change the subject or anything, but I was surprised you didn’t go back when your brother left. Or is he still in town?” I hold my breath.
“No, he headed back. I intend to go home in a few days.”
She’s leaving.Disappointment weighs heavy on my shoulders. I can pretend all I want that I’m okay if I never see her again, but it’s a lie. She stirs something inside me I believed was dead–hope. Hope for a different future. Hope for better things. Hope for love and a family. But those things aren’t in the cards for me.
“My father holds an annual benefit for my mother, and it’s this weekend. I’ve never missed it.”
My heart skips a beat. “You aren’t planning to move back there for good?”
“No. Even if my father and I weren’t at an impasse over Trenton and me, I still wouldn’t be willing to go back. It’s time for me to be out on my own.”
The relief that her trip is only for a short time has my body feeling weak. “Do you think he’ll move off the Trenton thing?”
“You don’t know my father. He’s a Pit Bull when he gets an idea into his head. He believes Trenton is a perfect match for me. He’s from the right political party, had the proper upbringing with a family that dates to the Mayflower, and had an Ivy League education. But mostly, he’s doing it for Trenton’s father’s sake. Trenton fell for their maid’s daughter, and his parents were afraid he’d ruin his future over a silly emotion like love. Marriage should be about compiling resources.” Sadness fills her eyes, and she shakes her head. “I don’t think my father used to feel that way, but he’s been on his own so long now.”
Yeah, I don’t stand a chance. Her father would laugh in my face–The Congressman’s daughter and the foster care kid.
“We’ve both been threatened by disownment if we don’t start following orders. Trenton has told his father he no longer has feelings for Lacey, but even if they start to believe him or change their minds, I’m not ready to forgive and forget until my father respects my decisions.”
“I see your point. My childhood wasn’t like yours. I must admit, at first, I was a little envious of what I thought must have been an ideal childhood, but I guess there were some benefits to growing up being my own boss. My mother was too busy working to put food on the table, to watch my every move, so I did what I wanted.” I rub the hair at the back of my skull. Talking about my family isn’t something I do, but after everything she’s shared, it feels appropriate to divulge what I’ve been through. Well, at least the highlighted version.
She clicks her mouse to shut off the computer. “You never talk about your family.”
“There isn’t much to say. We didn’t have a lot, and I don’t like to dwell on the past.” Bullshit. That’s a lie. All you’ve done is be stuck in the past.
“Don’t think that growing up with money makes a perfect childhood because that’s far from the truth. I’d have given anything for my mother to still be alive and be there while growing up and for a father that wasn’t always on the campaign trail. Our most memorable family moments were photoshoots, but those were to boost his image as the model family man.”
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. “Your father sounds like a tough man. I’m glad I’ve never met him.” I stretch my leg outward and shift my hips to the right, dragging my cell phone out of my front jeans pocket. Truman. “I’ve got to take this.”