Silent Menace (The Secrets of Kincaid #3)

Prologue

It’s so hot in here.

Frank Pierce considered releasing the top button of his dress shirt, but one look across the conference room table made him think better of it. Though his own tailored pinstripe was carefully pressed, it felt like a thrift-store rescue compared to his client’s navy bespoke suit.

At one time, he’d wondered how it would feel to nonchalantly drop thousands for a single suit of clothes.

Such things held little appeal to him now.

His finances, including what he’d squirreled away in an offshore emergency account, had been comfortably padded in recent years, but he’d lost everything important when Nikki filed for divorce and moved cross-country with their two sons.

A pang shot through his chest. So much of what he’d done had been so they wouldn’t have to struggle like he did growing up.

“You seem on edge. Is something going on I should know about?”

Frank pulled his focus back to his client. Not for the first time, he wished he’d never gotten involved with Eukaria Investments. Never agreed to tamper with the records. Once he started down that path, there had been no turning back.

He wanted out. But while his list of things to live for had dwindled to almost nothing, he had zero desire to die in excruciating pain at the command of a man who viewed noncompliance as betrayal.

Sweat trickled from his temple, but he pasted on a smile. “No. Everything is going smoothly. Eukaria Investments’ accounts are spic-and-span.”

He’d covered their tracks well. The original documents, which he always received as hard copies, were safely hidden away.

The “official” documents—the ones he’d spent countless hours cleaning up before entering into the accounting software, then reconciling and returning to his client—were the ones that would be referenced if someone else decided to look into things.

To the casual observer, the documents would appear to be in order.

He’d buried the most damaging evidence so deep, it shouldn’t ever be a problem—even in the case of a more thorough audit.

But there was always a risk with this sort of thing, as they both knew. He could only do so much.

The man assessed him with icy blue eyes. Frank fought to maintain a placid expression despite the pressure building in his chest. The fingers on his left hand started to go numb, and he resisted the urge to flex them. This was no time to show weakness or anxiety.

Finally, the man nodded and leaned back. “Good. I knew we could count on you.” He flipped open a binder, and they spent the next fifteen minutes discussing business.

When his client rose to leave, Frank did as well. His breath hitched as pain shot through his chest, but the other man didn’t seem to notice. Pressing his hand to his heart, he forced a deep, shaky breath before rounding the table to see his client to the door.

Somehow he managed to say his good-byes without calling attention to his discomfort, but as he recrossed the room to gather the spreadsheets and other documents, he stumbled. Pain seized him again, and this time a moan escaped his lips.

Another stabbing pain sent him to his knees. Something was very wrong. His head began to swim, and darkness encroached on his vision. As he lost consciousness, his last thought was that he wished he could see Nikki and the boys one more time.