Chapter Five #3
“Look, I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but I can tell it’s serious. If it involves breaking the law, I can’t promise anything. But I can listen, and I’ll help if I can.”
Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the unexpected kindness she’d been shown by this family. Or maybe it was simply that she was tired of carrying her burden alone. Whatever the reason, Sharon found herself speaking.
“This has to be off the record, Agent Boudreau.” At his nod, she continued, “Have you heard of Cooper Madison? Or Kerrigan Enterprises in Chicago?”
Antonio’s expression shifted subtly. “Kerrigan…there have been rumors. Money laundering, possible connections to organized crime. Nothing concrete enough for an indictment yet. They’re also investigating the suspicious death of the vice president of the company.”
“It’s worse than that,” Sharon said, her voice barely above a whisper. “So much worse.” She paused, her heart pounding. “My real name is Sharon Wells. Elliott was my mother’s maiden name. That’s not important right now, I’m sure. Anyway, I was Cooper’s executive assistant…and his fiancée.”
Antonio’s expression remained carefully neutral, but she could almost hear the wheels turning inside his head.
“I tend to be overly curious when it comes to my job. It helps me be more efficient, and I do my best to go beyond whatever’s expected of me.
One night, I was working late and needed to get something from Cooper’s office.
He’d left his laptop on his desk. I know I shouldn’t have been snooping, but Cooper never leaves his laptop at the office.
I mean, he’s fanatical about it. So, I was curious, and I looked at his files. ”
She stopped to draw in a deep breath, watching Antonio closely.
Unlike the police officers she’d talked to in Chicago when she’d gone to them, he didn’t have the avaricious greed shining in his eyes, or the look of somebody gunning for a promotion.
Instead, Antonio’s sympathetic gaze urged her to continue.
“I found some hidden files. Something I know Cooper wouldn’t have wanted me or anybody else seeing what I uncovered.
Documents and files connecting Cooper and Kerrigan to several murders.
People they’d been blackmailing who planned to go to the authorities to expose their operation.
” She swallowed hard. “When Cooper found out I’d seen his laptop, knew what he and Kerrigan were doing, he was furious.
I knew he wouldn’t let it go as a simple misunderstanding.
Knew he’d never trust me again. I told you I knew of murders ordered by Cooper?
I never imagined he’d frame me for one of them when I tried to go to the authorities.
There’s a warrant for my arrest right now. ”
“That’s a serious accusation,” Antonio said. “It’s your word against his, unless you have evidence. Do you—have evidence of what you’re claiming?”
“I copied what I could. You need to understand, I was terrified he’d come back and catch me.
I copied the most incriminating stuff and I ran.
As far and as fast as I could. Not before he set me up to take the fall for killing somebody.
I didn’t do it, I swear. Not that it did me any good.
When I tried going to the Chicago police, nobody believed me.
Not with the evidence Cooper manufactured against me.
Plus, he and Kerrigan own half the Chicago PD.
As to evidence, everything I had, it’s hidden.
In San Antonio.” Her hand instinctively went to the small envelope she always kept on her.
She’d shoved it in the pocket of her dress before she’d left the cottage earlier.
Pulling it out, she handed the envelope to him.
“And I have this. It’s not much, just a copy of a note between Cooper and Vincent Frame, the assistant vice president.
I didn’t want to carry everything with me, because if Cooper’s men caught me, they’d have everything I took, and I wouldn’t be of any use to them.
” She knew he could read between the lines—they’d have no reason to leave her alive.
Antonio studied her for a long moment, tapping the envelope against his hand. “I’ll investigate Cooper and Kerrigan. Discreetly. I can’t promise more than that without seeing what you have. And I won’t talk to anybody in Chicago yet, so we don’t alert them of where you are—at least for now.”
Relief washed over her, so intense it made her dizzy. “Thank you. But please, you can’t tell anyone. Not your brother. Especially not Dusty.”
“I understand,” Antonio said solemnly. “But Sharon…I need you to understand something.” His expression hardened slightly, and she was reminded of who she was talking to: not just Ms. Patti’s son, but a federal agent sworn to uphold the law.
“My family means everything to me. If I find out you’ve brought danger to their doorstep, or if you’re not being straight with me about your involvement in all this—”
“You’ll arrest me yourself.”
He nodded once. “Exactly.”
“Fair enough,” she agreed, feeling the weight of her secrets shift, if not lighten. “I’m not a criminal, Agent Boudreau. I’m simply trying to stay alive long enough to prove it.”
The corner of his lips curled up. “I think at this point you should call me Antonio.” He handed her the business card he’d pulled out earlier. “This is my number at the Austin office. My personal cell number is on the back. Anything happens, call me.”
She stared at the card for a long moment, wondering if it was the lifeline she’d been looking for. “Thank you.”
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of second helpings of dessert, cookies, and conversation, though Sharon felt Antonio’s watchful gaze more than once. When it came time to go home, she found herself oddly reluctant to leave the warmth and safety of the Big House.
“Ready to head back?” Dusty’s voice startled her from her thoughts. He stood by the door, keys in hand, his smile causing an unwelcome flutter in her chest. “I told Ms. Patti I’d give you a ride back.”
She nodded and walked over to Ms. Patti. “Thank you again, for everything.”
Ms. Patti wrapped her in a hug that smelled of vanilla and somehow brought tears to Sharon’s eyes. “You come back anytime, you’re always welcome here.”
The night air was cool as they stepped outside, stars emerging across the vast Texas sky.
The evenings were downright frigid the last couple of nights, and Sharon bundled up in the threadbare coat she’d found at the women’s shelter in South Texas and climbed into the cab of Dusty’s pickup.
She pulled the coat tight across her body and put her hands out toward the heater vents when he cranked on the engine.
Dusty’s truck rumbled down the long driveway, and Sharon found herself stealing glances at his profile, illuminated by the dashboard lights.
“They like you,” Dusty glanced in her direction, his voice quiet in the darkness. “Even Antonio, and he doesn’t warm up to people easily.”
Sharon looked out the window, hoping Dusty couldn’t see her expression. “He seems…intense.”
Dusty chuckled. “Intense. Yeah, that works. The FBI does that to a person, I guess. But he’s a good man. One of the best men I know.” He paused for a moment, adding, “You can trust him.”
The drive to her cottage was too short. When they arrived, Sharon hesitated before opening her door. “Thank you for the ride.”
Something flickered across Dusty’s face—concern and something else, gone too fast for her to read. “Let me walk you in, make sure everything’s okay.”
She didn’t dare show how much it meant that he cared enough to check the cottage, make sure she was safe.
When was the last time anybody cared enough?
Even when she’d lived in Chicago, her family hadn’t bothered or even cared about her welfare.
Yet this man made sure she felt secure in the place where she was staying.
He moved with a practiced efficiency through the small cottage, checking closets, the bathroom, behind doors.
Sharon followed him, watching his broad shoulders, the confidence in his movements.
When he’d confirmed the cottage was empty, they found themselves standing in the narrow entryway by the front door, close enough she could smell his cologne—something woodsy and subtle.
“All clear,” he said, the timber of his voice lower than before.
Sharon looked up, meeting his gaze. The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Dusty’s eyes dropped to her lips for just a moment, and she found herself leaning forward infinitesimally.
His hand moved as if to touch her face, hesitating right before he touched her cheek. The moment stretched between them, filled with possibility and danger in equal measure. Then Dusty took a step back, breaking the spell.
“I should go.”
Sharon nodded, both relieved and disappointed. “Thank you again. For everything.”
At the door, he turned back to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow? At the diner? I’m usually there pretty early.”
“I’ll be there,” she promised, though a small voice in the back of her mind whispered that staying was dangerous—for them both.
After he left, Sharon double-checked the locks and drew the curtains.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her hand going automatically for the envelope before remembering she’d given it to Antonio Boudreau.
She prayed she hadn’t made a mistake in trusting him.
If that note disappeared, she only had the evidence she’d hidden in San Antonio.
If that vanished, she was as good as dead.
She thought of Dusty’s almost-kiss, the way his presence made her feel simultaneously safe and terrified.
Getting close to him was a mistake, a luxury she couldn’t afford.
But as she drifted off to sleep, her dreams were filled with warm eyes and the promise of a future that didn’t include running for her life.