Chapter Seventeen
It was closing time, though the yard was never completely empty. Drivers were in and out around the clock and there was a night watchman on duty.
Linc waited for Carly to pack up then guided her out of the office. “I think we both need that beer,” he said. “Frank can drive your pickup, follow us out to the roadhouse. Won’t hurt to have a pair of eyes outside.”
Some of the tension seemed to drain from Carly’s shoulders. “I was afraid you’d change your mind.”
“Much as I’d like to keep you chained to my bed where I know you’ll be safe, it’s probably a bad idea.”
Carly flashed him a naughty grin filled with possibilities. “Could make for an interesting evening, though.”
Linc chuckled, trying to block the image he had stupidly created. “We won’t stay too long,” he said.
As they walked out of the building, Carly dug her keys out of her purse and handed them to Frank; then Linc walked over to his big GMC and they climbed inside. A few minutes later, he was driving down the highway, pulling into the parking lot at Jubal’s, really looking forward to that beer.
He’d had the same crap day Carly had. He’d met Quinn Taggart at a small café instead of FBI headquarters, just to be safe. He hadn’t told Carly how hard Quinn had pressed him to get his unidentified friend to help the FBI catch El Jefe.
“This could be just the break we’ve been hoping for,” Taggart had said. “Your guy could set up some kind of meet. We’d be there holding his hand the whole time—metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“Of course,” Linc said sarcastically.
Taggart shifted on the opposite side of the booth they were sitting in, a good-sized blond guy with a buzz cut in a typical FBI dark suit.
“Look, he’d be wearing a wire,” Quinn continued. “We’d be listening to every word. If he got in trouble, we’d be there to protect him.”
Linc just shook his head. “Not going to happen, Quinn. But if something turns up that’ll help you, I’ll see that you get the information.”
Taggart sighed, clearly unhappy. “You might be making the wrong move here, Linc.”
It was possible, but no way was he putting Carly in that kind of danger. He and the FBI agent had parted ways and Linc had returned to his office for the chopper ride back to Blackland Ranch.
It was ten to seven when he walked Carly across the roadhouse parking lot, Frank discreetly covering their progress.
Linc’s cell signaled as he reached the swinging double doors leading inside. Frank moved casually into position out front and Carly paused next to Linc as he pulled out his phone and checked the caller I.D.
It was Millie. Since his assistant usually texted, he figured it was important. “What’s up?”
“Glen Barker called.” Glen was the CPA going over the Drake accounting records. “He says it’s urgent he speak to you. I’ve got him on the other line.”
He flicked a glance at Carly. “Patch him through.”
Glen’s familiar voice floated over the line. “Mr. Cain, I’m sorry to bother you this late, but I’m calling in regard to those records you asked me to review.”
“What about them?”
“Someone’s stealing, and it’s been going on for quite a while.”
Anger sifted through him, making his jaw feel tight. No wonder Joe’s company was going broke. “How long?”
“Nearly two years. Whoever’s doing it is logging the payee into the digital record as if the account is legitimate, but when you pull the actual checks, the recipient doesn’t match what’s in the records. It’s a simple but effective technique if the person doing it is a trusted employee. No one is physically going back to make sure the checks and the records match.”
“Who’s the money actually being paid to?”
“The payee is a bank routing number. The money’s sent directly into the account.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“In the last two years, nearly two hundred thousand dollars.”
Linc clamped down on a fresh shot of temper. Jesus, more trouble Carly didn’t need. At least it explained what had been happening, why Drake was edging toward bankruptcy.
“Thanks, Glen. I appreciate your work on this.” Linc hung up the phone.
“What is it?” Carly asked.
He settled a hand at her waist and guided her through the swinging doors into the roadhouse, needing that beer more than ever. This early, the place wasn’t packed, but there were plenty of people sitting at tables.
From behind the bar, Rowena waved and smiled at Carly, and Linc urged her in that direction, not looking forward to the conversation they were about to have.
Row tossed back her long dark red curls and grinned. “Hey, Linc, hey, Carly. Good to see you guys.”
Carly climbed up on a bar stool. “You, too, Row.”
When Linc settled himself next to Carly at the bar, Row’s gaze shot back and forth between them.
“So . . . I didn’t expect to see the two of you in here . . . together.” Row flicked a what-kind-of-friend-are-you glance at Carly, whose cheeks turned a little pink. Sometimes she could really be cute.
“Linc’s been helping me with some problems,” Carly said.
“I’ll just bet he has,” Row said with a grin.
Fighting not to smile, Linc studied the row of taps behind the bar: Buffalo Bayou, Alamo, New Republic, Texian. “How about a couple of beers?” he asked. “A Shiner Bock sounds good. Carly?”
“I’ll have a Lone Star.”
“You got it.” Row glanced at Linc. “On your tab?”
He nodded. Row popped the tops and set two icy bottles down in front of them. “Here you go.”
A customer walked up to the other end of the bar, a lanky young guy in jeans and a battered straw cowboy hat. He sat down on a stool and Row headed in his direction. Linc could hear the guy laughing, saw the way his eyes strayed to Row’s full breasts.
Linc felt a tug of amusement. He knew Rowena fairly well. He doubted the cowboy would get lucky, but he’d have a good time trying.
“Let’s get a table.” Linc grabbed Carly’s beer and his own, slid off the stool, and headed for a quiet spot along the wall. Both of them sat down at a battered wooden table that had years of initials carved into the top.
“What’s up?” Carly asked, picking up her beer and taking a drink.
“The call I got outside? That was Glen Barker, the CPA I asked to look at your account books.”
The color drained out of her face. “Did he find a problem? I swear, Linc, I wasn’t trying to hide something so you’d give me the loan.”
He reached across the table and caught her hand. “Hey, I know that. Someone’s been stealing from you. Actually from Joe before you took over.”
“What?”
“That’s right. Been going on for nearly two years, about the time Joe first started having serious heart trouble.”
“I can’t believe it. How much?”
“Pushing two hundred thousand dollars.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Who writes the checks, Carly?”
“Joe did, but . . .” She took a deep breath. “Until a couple of years ago, Joe personally oversaw the checking account. When he started having health problems, he delegated the task.” She looked up at him. “Until I started working there, Donna was paying the bills.”
* * *
They didn’t leave Jubal’s right away. Carly was too stunned to get out of her chair. Donna Melendez had been stealing money from Drake for nearly two years.
“You’ll need to call the sheriff,” Linc said. “The woman is a thief and the money she embezzled wasn’t small change. This isn’t something you can handle on your own.”
Carly nodded, feeling a mixture of anger, resentment, and sadness. “I want to talk to her first. I’ll call her in the morning. She isn’t scheduled to work, but I’ll tell her I need some help in the office, see if I can get her to come in.”
“I want to be there. I’ll have Glen send whatever he’s found. If she tries to deny it, you’ll have the proof you need.”
“It’s hard to believe. Joe considered her a friend. When I took over, her help was invaluable. I don’t know if I could have done it without her.”
“Yeah, and all the while she was helping herself to your money.”
The anger returned, stronger this time. Footsteps sounded, coming toward the table from behind her.
“Hey, look who’s here!” Delroy Aimes, Linc’s beefy black biker friend, walked up, earring glinting in his ear. Johnnie Banducci sauntered up beside him, smoothing back his hair as if he wanted to be sure not a glossy black strand was out of place.
Instead of leathers, the men were in jeans and T-shirts and both of them looked hot.
“Good to see you guys,” Linc said.
“You gonna ask us to join you or what?” Johnnie asked.
Linc looked over at Carly.
“I could use another beer,” she said. Or five. Followed by a couple of tequila shooters.
Linc relaxed. Carly could read his thoughts: he’d given her the bad news but she hadn’t panicked. She wasn’t happy, but she hadn’t fallen apart. And he was about right. She’d handled the information—barely.
“This round’s on me,” Johnnie said. Turning, he headed over to the bar while Del sat down at the table.
“I heard you ran into a little trouble when you left here last time,” Del said to Linc.
“Carly ran into some trouble. I was in the right place at the right time. I’m glad I was able to help.”
Del leaned back in his chair, his weight making it creak. “I heard it was a little more serious than that. Heard it was some of El Jefe’s boys.”
Johnnie returned to the table, Rowena beside him. She unloaded the tray she balanced on the flat of her hand, setting a bottle of beer down in front of each of them.
“Enjoy,” Row said with a smile. As she walked back to the bar, hips swaying, Carly had a flash of brilliance. She tucked the idea away and returned her attention to the men.
Johnnie spun a chair around and sat down facing the table, zeroing in on the conversation as if he hadn’t missed a word. “El Jefe. That guy’s a bad dude, Linc.”
“Yeah, I figured that out when the bullets started flying.”
Del grunted. “Word is El Jefe’s on the march, trying to expand his empire. You need to stay as far away from that hombre as you can get.”
“I wish it was that easy,” Linc said. He took a swallow of beer. “What can you tell me about him? I was under the impression the guy stays way off the grid.”
“He does,” Del said. “But some of his boys like to throw their weight around, brag about their exploits. Your name came up. One of the Demons got wind of it. He came to me, thought you might want to know.”
Linc just nodded. He’d been a fringe member of the club since he was a kid.
Johnnie tipped up his beer and took a swallow, set it back down on the table. “The guys said to tell you, you need some help, just let them know.”
“Appreciate that,” Linc said. Steering the conversation in a lighter direction, he and Carly finished their beers. They said good-bye to Del, Johnnie, and Row and left the roadhouse, Frank following the truck in Carly’s pickup.
“Row mentioned you used to ride with the Demons,” Carly said as the headlights lit the strip of pavement in front of them.
“I was never an official member of the club, but when I was younger, I rode with some of them.”
“Del, Johnnie, and Rick.”
“That’s right. And some of the other guys in the group. The Demons aren’t one-percenters, not like the Bandidos or Hell’s Angels, MCs involved in drugs and other criminal activities. But the guys can be plenty tough when push comes to shove.”
* * *
As the truck rolled along, Carly’s mind went over the evening. Del, Johnnie, and Rick were former members of the Asphalt Demons. She knew their reputation, knew the members of the club were tough. Though on the surface Linc’s friends seemed jovial and easygoing, they had an underlying aura of strength.
In the faint light inside the cab, she studied Linc’s profile. As handsome as he was, there was a hard edge to his features that said his life hadn’t always been easy. The beard shadow along his jaw hinted at the toughness inside him, the obstacles he had conquered to make him the man he had become.
Her gaze dipped to the powerful arm gripping the steering wheel. “Was that when you got the tattoo? When you were riding with the Demons?”
He glanced down at the single strand of barbed wire wrapped around his bicep. “I got that after I got out of prison. To remind myself what it feels like to be fenced in.”
Carly fell silent. Linc had committed a crime, but he had served his sentence and turned his life around. It was a shame more people weren’t willing or able to do that.
“I need to replace Donna,” she said. “I’m going to ask Rowena to take the job.”
Linc’s gaze swung to hers. “I know Row works part-time as a bookkeeper. You really think she can manage your office?”
“Row’s good at just about everything. I think she’ll be a tremendous asset.”
“It’s not always good business to work with your friends.”
“And yet you and Beau seem to be doing just fine.”
“Good point,” Linc said. “Beau and I make a great team. I’ll introduce you at the benefit.”
She frowned. “What benefit?”
Linc flicked her a sideways glance. “Oh, did I forget to mention? Sophia found another date for the charity event next Saturday night.”
“She did?”
“That’s right. Turns out she’ll be going with Beau. I’m going to owe him big-time for the favor, but that can’t be helped.”
“I don’t understand.”
One of his dark eyebrows arched up. “You don’t?”
“No.”
“Then let me spell it out for you. I’m not interested in Sophia Aiello—I told you that before. My date is sitting in the passenger seat. That night she’ll be sleeping in my bed, same as she will be tonight.”
Carly’s heart made a funny little kick. Linc had changed his plans to be with her. He wasn’t interested in stunningly beautiful Sophia Aiello. He was interested in Joe Drake’s granddaughter, the owner of a nearly bankrupt trucking company. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“I presume that’s a ‘Yes, I’d be thrilled to go with you, Linc.’”
“Umm . . . okay. I’d love to go to the benefit with you, Linc.”
“That’s better. It’s black tie. If you need something to wear—”
“I’ve got something. Several somethings. They’re packed in those boxes you had brought over to the ranch house.”
“Good.”
“The benefit isn’t till the end of next week. I guess that means you don’t think the problem with El Jefe will be solved and I’ll be back in my own house by then.”
“Or maybe it means that even if it’s solved, you’re still the woman I want to take to the benefit.”
Something shifted inside her. It made her want to smile. Then her worry kicked in and the feeling changed, morphed into something closer to fear. Every day she was getting in deeper with Linc. Every night she gave him more of herself. When it was over, she was going to be very badly hurt.
Linc’s green eyes came to rest on her face and there was a gentleness there she hadn’t expected. “It’s just an evening in the city, okay? That’s all it is. We’ll go to the gala, spend the night at my apartment, and come back here the next morning.”
She nodded, felt a little better. It was a date, an evening with a wealthy, handsome, incredibly sexy man. She could handle a date with a man like that. She’d done it more than once over the years. Well, none of those other guys were even close to Linc, but still . . .
She began to relax.
Then the tall, wrought-iron gates of Blackland Ranch appeared up ahead. There was a guard on each side of the entrance. In the distance, several sets of headlights illuminated the fields, moving in indiscernible patterns, armed men riding four-wheeled ATVs.
Tomorrow she would have her grandfather’s most trusted employee arrested for embezzling.
For the first time since she’d decided not to sell Drake Trucking, Carly wasn’t sure she had done the right thing.