Chapter Sixteen

Rule for success number sixteen:

Be flexible and adaptable.

AS the morning sun slanted through the front windows of Betti’s suite, Jolie scanned the investor agreement for the third time. She’d made notes last night and e-mailed Clarke Winston for answers. They had been waiting for her bright and early this morning. She’d called an attorney she occasionally consulted with and asked him to glance at the document. To her shock, he’d called back within the hour to say it was a golden handshake of a deal and she would be a fool not to take it.

Today, she planned to do just that.

A moment later, Wisteria knocked, her long face appearing in the sidelight window next to the office door. Clearly, the poor woman had been crying again, and Jolie no longer wanted to tell her receptionist to avoid men. That would never work. Besides, she now understood the lure of romance. God, she loved Heath more every day—far more than she’d ever thought she’d love any man. He’d proven himself to be honorable. She trusted and respected him. And he reminded her to laugh. He wasn’t a perfect man . . . but he was the perfect one for her. That’s what Jolie wished Wisteria could find for herself.

Rising, she cracked the door. “Yes? I’m reading a contract. Emergencies only.”

“It’s kind of an emergency. You have a visitor.” Wisteria pulled the door wide to reveal a man in a sharp navy suit, crisp shirt, stylish briefcase. Late thirties, blue eyes, hair somewhere between blond and brown, well-trimmed beard. Reasonably attractive. “He’s here to talk to you about the Quantum Consortium thing.”

Jolie paused. Clarke hadn’t mentioned they were sending a representative. Was this surprise visit a hidden prerequisite? Did they want to interview her further? Inspect her operations?

“Hello, Ms. Quinn.” He sounded very British as he stuck out his hand.

“Hello.” She shook it. “Actually, I’m Mrs. Powell now. I recently married. But call me Jolie. Come in and sit. I had no idea you were coming. What’s your name?”

She shut the door behind them, enclosing them in her office. As he crossed the room toward the guest chair she offered, he tripped spectacularly and sprawled on hands and knees, his briefcase tumbling across the carpet.

Jolie rushed to help him up. “Are you all right?”

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a sheepish grin and collected himself. “After a recent injury, I’m a bit clumsy, I’m afraid. Thank you.”

As he sat, Jolie rounded the desk to her own oversized leather seat. “So you’re with Quantum?”

“Well, I have some information Clarke neglected to include in his conversations with you. I felt as if I had to discuss the bits of the agreement you might not be aware of.”

“Such as . . .?”

He sized her up. Not like a sexual partner but as if trying to determine her capability. Jolie bristled. Clarke had been affable and easy to do business with. This man annoyed her.

“Do you know where the capital you’re contemplating is coming from?”

The implications of his question made her frown. “Isn’t it a general investment fund?”

He sighed as if deeply distressed. “It’s as I suspected. You don’t have the first clue. I can’t let you remain in the dark.”

“In the dark how?”

“Mr. Winston represents your investor because they’re related.”

Clarke hadn’t mentioned that but he had been, in every other way, completely professional. She shrugged. “All right.”

“Of course you don’t understand. I’m botching this.” He shook his head. “Mr. Winston is an investment broker married to your new husband’s sister. Mr. Powell intended to fund your company expansion without advising you.”

Jolie froze, shock sliding through her. “Clarke is Heath’s brother-in-law?”

“Precisely.”

“So Clarke doesn’t represent Quantum Consortium?”

“He does, technically.” He looked so sorry to be the bearer of bad news. “But I’m afraid it scarcely existed three days past.”

Now she knew he was wrong. “I researched it. That fund was created eight years ago.”

“On paper, yes. But it’s been inactive. You might not have been able to locate documentation because the group was always privately owned, so few public records exist.”

That had been Jolie’s conclusion, too. But Clarke worked for a very reputable European brokerage. Never a hint of scandal or shady dealings. And of course she’d never imagined that Heath would use Quantum to dabble in her business without first talking to her. Hell, she hadn’t even known he possessed that kind of money.

“And you think my husband intended to give me millions of dollars for Betti’s expansion without my knowledge?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Because he wanted make her dreams come true? Because, after Gardner’s crap, Heath hoped she’d succeed? Or because he pitied her? Jolie wasn’t sure. Why hadn’t he told her his plans?

Did he think she couldn’t achieve her dreams without his help?

That possibility raging through her head, Jolie wilted back into her chair. She tried not to believe that he’d discounted her. Betrayed her. He had never before lied to her, not even when it would have made his life easier. But why else would he congratulate her for finding a new investor if he knew who had provided the capital all along?

Then again, Jolie didn’t know this man in her office. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he was stirring some shit pot she didn’t understand.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Your loyalty is admirable. How much do you know about your new husband? Were you aware that he’s a very wealthy man, worth around ten million pounds?”

Her jaw dropped. “Impossible. He would never have taken a job with me if he had that kind of money—”

“Yes, he would. He’s done it for years. Following the death of his first wife, he inherited the sizeable estate Anna’s parents left behind. He also collected a hefty life insurance policy. Both sums he rolled over into crafty investments, managed by his brother-in-law. I can only imagine why he hasn’t touched that money until now.”

“Who are you? How could you possibly know any of this?”

“I’m Myles Beaker.”

Was that name supposed to mean something? “And?”

“I see Heath didn’t mention me. I’m sure he would prefer to move on from his guilt.” He sighed as if he harbored deep regret for coming here to burst her newlywed bubble. “I was Heath’s partner when he worked with MI5.”

“So you’re not with Quantum?”

“I’m sorry, no. I needed an expedient story to ensure you would see me. I have to explain the truth. You see, Heath and I both lost wives on the same terrible day. Anna perished, which I presume you know. But my Lucy and our unborn child were murdered, too.”

The man took a moment to collect himself, and Jolie couldn’t help softening. “Take your time.”

He shook his head, seemingly determined to forge ahead. “I’ve wracked my brain for years to figure out who killed them and why. A random attack simply didn’t make sense. Somehow, those innocent women were at the epicenter of violence. Everything was well planned, professionally executed. I’m a grieving man. I want answers. I’ve struggled so much since that tragic day. I dug and investigated. I searched high and low. I’ve come to the conclusion that Heath must have killed Anna for the money. Lucy and our unborn child were simply collateral damage in the wake of his greed. And now, I fear, he’s plotting the same fate for you.”

Jolie’s phone buzzed at that moment. She glanced at the screen. Heath. She nearly snatched up the device and started barking questions. Had he really intended to invest in Betti secretly? Why?

She didn’t believe the stranger was right about Heath killing Anna. After all, he’d seemed so angry and torn when he’d discussed his first wife’s death. Jolie’s gut—and her heart—didn’t want to believe he could fake all that. But she’d barely known Heath for a week. As much as she hated to contemplate his deception, she couldn’t afford to be naive. She’d hear Beaker out, see where this theory led. That way, she’d know the right questions to ask her new husband in case his former partner could prove any part of it true.

Declining the call, she silenced her phone. “You’re saying my husband killed his first wife for money and now wants to murder me for mine?”

“Precisely.”

Time to review facts. She had initiated both sex and marriage . . . but Heath had planted the suggestions in her head. Had she been too sure of herself to see a potential charlatan coming and leapt into marriage because, screw the consequences, he made her feel good? Because he’d given her the best sex of her life? Her mother had certainly succumbed to that ruse more than once—with disastrous results.

Nervous now, Jolie tapped her fingers on her desk. Certainly Heath wouldn’t be so eager to get her pregnant if he meant to kill her. Unless he didn’t intend to leave her alive long enough for that to matter.

Maybe Beaker was a desperate man, looking for someone to blame for his loss. Maybe he believed what he said and sought to “save” her from Anna’s fate. Or maybe he was an asshole with an ax to grind.

“He’s beyond mercenary,” Beaker added.

“And he wants to take my money by first giving me money?” The absurdity of that hit her.

“Yes, by marrying you and investing in your company, he’ll likely have every right to your funds when something happens to you. He would also have a very strong claim on Betti. I presume you don’t have any sort of prenuptial agreement?”

“No.” Until the last few years, she’d never had much money. Sometimes she forgot that she was no longer struggling to pay off student loans.

Beaker shot her a superior expression. “There you go. Whoever you’ve named in your will as a benefactor will have a devil of a time defending their position in court because Heath will be both your husband and your primary investor.”

Laws varied from state to state . . . but she saw his point. “That’s quite a theory.”

“After the cold-blooded way he executed Anna, Lucy, and our baby, I have no doubt he’s capable of killing you to more than double his wealth.”

“He’s never once mentioned money to me.”

“Of course not. Why bother with small amounts here or there when he could score big? What is Betti worth now? I’ve seen estimates that you could sell it for upwards of thirty million dollars,” he said, his accent clipped. “Is that right?”

Her last valuation put her somewhere in that neighborhood. For a man she’d never heard of, Beaker seemed well informed about her. “Why do you want to know?”

“My point is, he’s aware of this. And you’re his next mark.”

Jolie thought back over the last week, to all the amazing, touching, tender ways her husband had filled in the holes around her heart and soul. Either he was the perfect man for her . . . or a con artist of epic proportions. She hadn’t looked closely into Heath’s background before she had hired him. Callie’s devoted husband had recommended him. Sean was a sensible man with a good bullshit meter. He wouldn’t recommend a criminal, right? Not if he’d known.

“You look skeptical,” Beaker cut into her thoughts. “I can prove your husband intended to invest in Betti without your knowledge or consent.”

“Really?”

Myles withdrew his phone from his pocket and set it on the desk between them. With a few taps of the screen, Jolie found herself listening to a familiar voice.

“Hi, Heath. Clarke here. I’ve had the chance to speak with your new wife. Jolie is a lovely woman. Very sharp. I’m impressed. Your sister is most excited to meet her. I don’t know if I’ll be able to contain Jane until Christmas. She quite wants to meet Jolie.” He sounded amused. “The good news is I’ve managed to liquidate everything you requested. I’ll contact her today to extend the offer and the contract. I’ll keep you informed along the way . . . unless you’d like to tell her that you’re her investor. I can’t think subterfuge is the best way to begin a marriage . . .”

Beaker tapped the screen to end the recording. But that didn’t stop shock from shredding Jolie’s composure.

Heath truly had used his brother-in-law to give her money for Betti without any intent to tell her. She sat back, stunned. What else had Beaker pegged correctly? Certainly not murder, right?

“How did you get that voicemail?”

He sent her an almost pitying expression. “I’ve spent too many years as a spy. I’m afraid some habits die hard.”

Jolie didn’t like the lengths he’d gone to in order to prove her husband guilty but she couldn’t deny the recording sounded authentic. “It appears he deceived me about investing in Betti, I’ll grant you. But it’s a long way from investor to murderer.”

“Your skepticism is understandable. I didn’t want to believe it myself. We were partners and best mates. Our wives were very close. We trusted each other completely with our lives over and over. Believe me, no one was more surprised than me to realize Heath had blown everything up for his own ends.”

She knew men could sometimes be selfish liars. Jolie had seen that truth in action over and over, repeating through her childhood like bad music in an elevator.

“If you can prove that Heath killed your pregnant wife, why haven’t you gone to the proper authorities? You must know exactly who to contact in order to bring this matter to justice.”

“Because Heath will kill me. Look at the call history on his phone. He’s reached out twice in the last week, both times to threaten me. Few people have the skills to kill me, frankly. I’m not afraid of much. But your husband has a dangerous, ruthless side.”

“Can’t the authorities protect you?”

“Spoken like someone who still believes in a system that’s both broken and corrupt.” Beaker gave a bark of a laugh. “Heath has the money to pay off anyone. That’s how he got away with it the first time, you know.”

“Let’s pretend I believe you. What do you want?”

He folded his hands in his lap, looking perplexed. “Nothing. I simply had to warn you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I stood by idly while another woman was cut down to serve his greed.”

Her instinct kept flaring. Or was that her hope that romance and love could be both real and lasting? After all, why would he run the risk of hacking Clarke’s phone when he claimed to be terrified of Heath? Her new husband had been a spy, too. He would know all the ways Beaker could obtain such recordings. He was thorough and would be watching for something like that if he had dark deeds to hide.

“I want to see your proof.”

Her demand seemed to surprise him. “I don’t have the rest here. You’re welcome to come with me to my hotel ’round the corner. I’ll bring everything down to the lobby if it makes you more comfortable and review the evidence with you.”

Jolie shook her head. She wasn’t going anywhere with a man she didn’t know. “You’ll have to bring it here.”

Regret crossed his face instantly. “Impossible. The minute Heath returns, someone will tell him I’ve been to your office. He’ll devise all manner of lies to put you at ease and make me sound somewhere between delusional and dangerous. Once he’s discredited me, he’ll ensure I never come within a mile of you again. Eventually, of course, it will be too late.”

“I’m a grown woman who makes her own decisions. If you promise you’ll return here with proof, nothing and no one will stop me from meeting you, least of all my husband. He’s my partner in life, not my keeper. If you want me to hear you out, those are my terms.”

“I took an enormous risk coming here at all. If I return, he’ll certainly kill me.” He sighed, stood, shaking his head sadly, as if he wished he could make her understand. “Good luck. Stay safe.”

Beaker turned to leave. Jolie didn’t want to risk her business or her life but she’d met this stranger ten minutes ago. How was she supposed to believe him over the man she had vowed to love forever?

As he reached the door, he glanced back. “I hope I’m wrong, Ms. Quinn. Maybe I am. After all, no one has tried to kill you since you married, so—”

“Someone has.” The words popped out with a frown. “On Monday, outside my office. But Heath was standing beside me. He couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with the attempt.”

“Oh, my dear woman. He has accomplices. Without them, he couldn’t possibly have managed the sort of ‘attack’ necessary to kill our first wives. He had another MI5 operative in on it with him, Kensforth. That ring a bell? No. I can prove that as well.” Beaker looked so earnest. “He had a demolitions expert, several lookouts, and an assassin. He probably used the same shooter a few days ago, though I’m surprised the man missed. He was deadly accurate with Anna and Lucy. Ten minutes. Please.”

Something in her gut kept telling Jolie to resist. “Come back here and I’ll look at it.”

“I know you want to believe the man you married is a perfect husband and devoted lover. But certainly you’ve met a charming man or two in your past, perhaps were even taken in by him? Been deceived by him? Heath is the consummate professional. He’ll tell you precisely what you want to hear in order to earn your trust. I watched him with Anna. I know firsthand.”

Jolie frowned. Taken in by a charming man? No, she never had been. But her mother had fallen prey to men with looks and charisma repeatedly. As a child, Jolie had sworn she would be smarter, would never trust blindly or be duped by a lying snake. She had sworn to question everything if she ever decided to get serious about a man so she would never be blindsided and crushed because she was too in love to ask the right questions.

Looking back over the last week, Jolie realized she’d broken her promise to herself. She had trusted without question, lost herself in the moment, and stopped thinking about anything except how good it felt to be in love.

Jolie hated to consider that she’d made a colossal mistake, but if she didn’t look at Beaker’s evidence, would she always wonder if he’d been right? Would she even get to live with the regret of ignoring him?

If he could prove all his claims in a public place in ten minutes, what did she have to lose?

“All right. Which hotel?”

Beaker gave her the name, and she sent a quick text to Cutter. Odd that he didn’t acknowledge her message right away but he could also be tied up with Karis.

With a shrug, Jolie grabbed her phone and shoved it in her purse, which she slung over her shoulder. “I’ll take my own car and meet you in the lobby.”

He looked relieved. Reenergized. “Splendid. I’ll prove everything. You’ll see.”

She really hoped he couldn’t. Finding out that Heath had deceived her in every way would kill her.

Dread biting her belly, she followed Beaker out of her office. Wisteria wasn’t at her desk. Gerard had tuned out the world with his earbuds and sketchpad again. Rohan, Karis, and Arthur should be in a development meeting. No worries. Cutter knew where she was going.

In the parking lot, Beaker’s car was parked next to hers. He walked beside her, scanning the lot carefully, looking this way and that. Like he was expecting trouble.

When they reached the door to her vehicle, he paused behind her. “I think it would be best if you rode with me.”

“No. I’ll take my own transpor—”

“Get in the fucking car.” The gentle concern and grieving cry in his voice were gone, replaced by a hard growl. He emphasized his point by sticking the barrel of his gun in her back. “Now.”

Jolie’s heart stopped. This couldn’t be happening. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that he had absolutely no compunction about killing her. “C-Cutter knows I’m leaving here with you.”

Myles scoffed. “Cutter had an unfortunate accident in the men’s room. He won’t be telling anyone anything.”

Panic tried to overwhelm her, followed quickly by regret. She wished like hell she’d listened to her instinct, that she’d taken Heath’s earlier call. Was she too cynical to believe in love, in the man she’d married?

How would she escape this mess without dying?

“I won’t get in the car with you. You’ll have to kill me here in the lot.” Because if he had the balls to start shooting, someone in the building would come running. Yeah, she’d be injured, maybe even killed. But he wouldn’t be able to rape or torture her. He couldn’t hold her over Heath’s head to make her husband dance to his will.

“If you don’t get in, I will blow up everyone inside Betti’s offices, including your sister, with the bomb I planted last night.”

A new wave of horror swept over her. “I don’t believe you.”

Beaker yanked on her hair and tilted her face back to look up at him. “Care to try me?”

No. No, she didn’t. She couldn’t risk everyone else on her hunch. “I’ll go with you.”

“I rather thought you might. There’s a good girl.” He opened the door. “Now let’s make your husband suffer, shall we?”