Chapter 9
Logan didn’t know if he should try to talk to Devon on the drive home or if silence was better. God only knew he’d seen plenty of people in shock before. Usually it happened when they were confronted by death or extreme violence of some kind. The episode on the road, the phone calls, the explosion on the boat, and someone ransacking Lady Hannah were bad enough. Now came the news about her father. Although Vigilance was still digging, it was patently clear Graham Cole had been involved in something less than legal.
Somehow she’d found an inner strength to keep it together, but she looked like she was sliding down to the end of her rope. She sat beside him still as a statue and so pale he wondered if she was going to pass out.
“I can feel you thinking.” Her voice was quiet, but stronger than he’d expected. “I’m okay.”
“I know you are. You’ve just had some information thrown at you that would be hard for anyone to absorb.”
“I’m good. Really. I think I’m tired more than anything. I didn’t sleep well last night. Plus the past two days have been unsettling to say the least.”
His heart turned over. Everything she did, everything she said, reminded him so much of Amanda. The same strength. The same determination. The same unwillingness to let situations defeat her. He’d known a lot of women who thought they were strong, yet who either crumbled at the first sign of disaster or lost it altogether.
And he wanted to talk to her about what happened between them…was happening. He hoped like hell he didn’t scare her off but it was there between them, and he knew she felt it, too.
As soon as they were in the house he reset the alarm, then took a mug down from the cupboard.
“I think I’ll combine both of Avery’s prescriptions. Just sit at the table for a minute while I get it ready.”
He watched her lower herself into a chair, slowly as if she might fall over. He didn’t bother with Avery’s tea bags, instead using a pod for the fancy machine on the counter. While it brewed, he headed into the den and returned with a bottle of bourbon.
“I spotted this when I was checking out the den yesterday. I think it’s just what Dr. Malik prescribes.”
She managed a tiny smile. “Dr. Malik writes good prescriptions.”
When everything was ready, he set the mug in front of her. “Drink slowly, it’s hot. But drink it all down.”
He went over to the computer on the counter, tapped some keys, and began scrolling through the camera footage for the time they’d been gone. He tapped a few more keys and the screen returned to normal. “No news is good news. No visitors while we were gone.”
“You thought someone might have tried to break in?” she asked.
“Yes.” He bit off the word. “They want the location of your father. They probably think he left some clue here.”
“But you didn’t find anything when you looked,” she reminded him.
“Graham scoured this place pretty good, but that won’t stop someone from trying.”
Devon cradled the mug in her hands, sipping it slowly. Logan fixed coffee for himself and sat down with her.
“Drugs and guns.” She said the words slowly. “I still can’t get my head around the whole thing. Logan, my father has always been a respected businessman. Even when I was a young child and he was still building Cole International, wherever we went I saw the admiration people had for him, especially those in the business community. When the first articles profiling him began to appear, my mother was so proud. She showed all of them to me. So how does a man so well respected end up in bed with drug dealers and gunrunners?”
“A question only he can answer.” He took Devon’s empty mug from her hands. “Why don’t you lie down and try to nap a little. While you’re sleeping, I’ll raid the freezer and fridge and throw some dinner together.”
Her lips curved in a tiny smile. “Are you going to be the live-in chef until this is over?”
He shrugged. “I like doing it. Unless...” He studied her. “Unless you’re saying you want to take care of the meals.”
She laughed. Just a little one, but it was a laugh. “Heaven forbid. I’d poison us both. My cookbook consists of takeout menus from every restaurant within a ten-block radius of my apartment.”
“No kidding?”
She cocked her head. “You aren’t one of those men who thinks a woman’s place is in the kitchen, are you?”
“Now it’s my turn to say heaven forbid. Or hell no. So why don’t you try to catch a nap. I’ve got some work to do and I’ll rustle up a meal.”
“Is there some special reason you want me to get in bed? Or are you just trying to get rid of me?”
Why the hell am I always putting my foot in my mouth?
“You said you were tired,” he said. “I thought maybe you could stand a little sleep.”
She stared as if waiting for him to say something else.
“No ulterior motive,” he assured her. “If I—never mind.”
“Logan, if you’ve got something to say just spit it out. We’re going to be living in this house together for the foreseeable future. If there’s a problem, that won’t work. So tell me what’s on your mind, because I know something is. You said we’d talk when we got back here, so talk.”
When would he ever learn to keep his mouth shut?
“How about if you rest or nap or read or whatever you want to do? I’ll do some work on my laptop. Then we’ll have a nice dinner, maybe with some wine, and we’ll talk.”
“Are you saying you need to get drunk to tell me what’s on your mind?”
He wanted to snap back at her, frustrated with the situation he’d gotten himself into. Then he looked at her and saw that little smile teasing her lips again.
“You’re yanking my chain.”
“Mmm, maybe a little. You’ve been uptight since we walked back into the house.”
He had and he knew it. He wanted to tell her what he was feeling and why it happened so fast, but he also didn’t want her to kick him out the door. He was counting on the fact that everything indicated she was feeling it, too. But as strong as he did? As intense? And after not even forty-eight hours?
Jesus, Malik.
She laughed again, a soft sound but the first time he’d heard it since he saved her from those two thugs on the highway.
“Never mind. I think I need to occupy my mind more than put it to sleep. I’m going to set up my computer and printer. I need to check my e-mail, and I have clients I can’t ignore for too much longer.” She pushed herself to her feet.
“I didn’t even ask you. What do you do?”
There went that smile again. “I’m sure it’s all in whatever file Avery sent you, but it’s nice of you to pretend you don’t know. I’m a graphic designer. I do everything from book covers to brochures to marketing materials to whatever the client needs.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding.” She picked up her purse that she’d dropped on the table. “Listen, Logan. What I heard today is a lot for me to process, and we’ve probably only got the tip of the iceberg. I need some time to myself to think about it. There’s a desk in my room so I’m going to set up my stuff there. Then we can both work on our laptops, only I’m sure mine won’t be nearly as interesting as yours. Answering e-mails is mindless enough work that I can let my brain try to sort everything out.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll check on you in a little while.”
“Then maybe you can tell me what you wanted to talk about?”
He nodded. “Then we’ll talk.”
At least it gave him time to figure out what to say. He’d broken his own and the agency rules once already, because he couldn’t deny his unexpected feelings for her. His intense need and hunger. If he was smart, he’d just pretend nothing had ever happened. Apparently, he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was, because he knew that wasn’t going to happen.
He’d never been good about sharing his feelings, not since Amanda. What if Devon looked at him like he was out of his mind?
Listen, Devon. The sex between us is great but it’s more than that. You’re the first woman I’ve fallen for in a lot of years since I lost the last woman I loved. I never thought this would happen again so I’m breaking all my rules to see if you feel the same way.
Yeah. That sounded so good.
He was a Marine, for chrissake. Marines didn’t get caught in this kind of emotional quagmire. Where was his Marine discipline when he needed it?
Disappearing fast, that’s where.
* * * *
While Devon set up her laptop, plugging in her external hard drive and connecting to her wireless printer, she let everything from the past couple days roll through her mind. She could hardly believe it was only yesterday morning she woke up prepared for another day in her very ordinary life. In less than forty-eight hours her life had been upended. She’d been told her father had disappeared, received threatening phone calls, been run off the road, attacked and shot at by two very scary men, and had off-the-charts sex with a mysterious man who pushed all her buttons.
She could hardly accept that her father was involved in anything illegal, but Avery had been very convincing. And his actions the past few years certainly made everyone suspicious. Why hadn’t she paid more attention? Asked questions? Anything? Because he’d been very obvious about shutting her out.
Their visits together had become less and less frequent. He had talked a lot about moving from Tampa after her mother passed away and she wasn’t surprised when he told her he was selling his house and building a new one in Arrowhead Bay. Whenever he took her out on a Saturday sail, she could see why it appealed to him, especially after she met some of the friends he’d made and realized he was carving out a whole new life for himself.
And rightly so. Everyone needed changes. She’d just been so glad whatever his problems were had seemed to be fixed and he was moving on to the next phase of his life. She’d visited him as much as she could and they always spent time out on either Princess Devon or Lady Hannah. That was where he seemed the most relaxed.
She began to roll things through her mind, trying to pinpoint exactly when things began to change again. Maybe the couple of times she’d called to visit and he told her he was having a business meeting at the house. How preoccupied he’d become again. She wished now she’d asked more questions and insisted on answers. Of course, that didn’t mean he’d have given her any.
Oh, Dad, what did you get yourself into?
When she had everything connected and turned on, she booted up her laptop and went to her e-mail program. Her inbox exploded. Good. She could concentrate on answering messages and forget about this situation, at least for a little while.
But she couldn’t stop wondering what Logan wanted to talk to her about.
* * * *
Graham—he had to keep reminding himself he was now Grey—helped himself to another cup of coffee and carried it to the table where Leslie was finishing her late lunch. The afternoon sunlight slanted in through the window, catching the red highlights of her auburn hair. The green of the sweatshirt she wore matched the shade of her eyes almost exactly. Hers was a natural beauty. Something that captivated Grey from the first moment he met her. He thought he could stand here just watching her, drinking her in, forever.
But life moved along and he had things to do.
“Are you coming to the marina with me?” she asked. “I think it would be good for me to introduce you to a couple of the regulars and for people to start seeing you there.”
“I agree, but there are a few things I need to do first.” He sat down in the seat opposite her. “I want to open a bank account, and also rent a safe-deposit box.”
Leslie put her cup down. “Do you have identification to do that? Were you able to get what you needed?”
He nodded. “I’m set. If you can spare the time, I need to buy some clothing. I fit as much as I could into the one suitcase but that won’t hold me for long.”
“No problem.” She swallowed the last of her meal and carried her plate to the sink.
“Leave them. I’ll take care of it. I know you have to get to the marina. I’ll be along after a while.”
He rose to walk to the door with her. Before she opened it, she turned and slid her arms around him.
“Be careful with everything you do, Grey. Please.” Her voice was edgy with concern. “You don’t know what electronic traps might be out there waiting for you.”
“We’ve discussed this, honey, and I’m good. Really.” He pulled her in for a long kiss. “I don’t plan to do anything to jeopardize this.”
“Okay.” She let out a breath. “I trust you and believe in you. But I get to worry about you, too.”
“Back atcha. Now go on, before all those people start a riot because you aren’t there.”
He rinsed her mug and plate and stuck them in the dishwasher and refilled his coffee mug. It amazed him how at home he already felt. It might be a far cry from the lavishness of Arrowhead Bay but he was a lot more comfortable in it. For one thing, he wasn’t entertaining members of a drug cartel or helping them to facilitate their shipments of drugs or arms.
How could his friend have done this to him? He realized now the suggestion to move to Arrowhead Bay had been subtly planted in all the months leading up to the financial rescue. With the financial crisis over, he’d had the money to buy the land and build the house he wanted. Or had that, too, been suggested to him?
But the worst had been when, after a couple of years, he’d approached his investment advisor and said he wanted to start repaying the money. Buy back that portion of his company. That’s when he’d learned who his “silent” partner really was. Drug cartels were so far off his radar he hadn’t ever given them a thought. Discovering who he was in bed with, who had really saved Cole International, was a shock that nearly killed him.
Shock had made him physically ill, along with the blunt little chat they’d had about how he was now inextricably tied to the Moreno cartel. The smartest thing he could do was just run his now very profitable conglomerate and ignore the source of the money. And if he hosted a small group of businessmen at his home now and then, well, that’s what big houses were for.
From there it was only a small step to rendezvousing with another boat out in the Gulf of Mexico and bringing “merchandise” back to his house when emergency arrangements had to be made. It hadn’t become a regular habit, thank God, but every so often when their regular routes were fucked up, they pressured him to host them at the house. They brought their drugs in their luggage and rendezvoused with the buyer.
The helicopter became the auxiliary transport when their regular routes for gun shipments were impassable. After all, no one thought twice about a high-profile businessman with an impeccable reputation. After each “situation” he locked himself in his den and indulged in a good drink.
By the time a year had passed he felt dirtier than garbage, and he was caught in a trap he couldn’t find a way out of. He had lived in fear for so long now, sick with the effort of keeping everything from his CEOs, from everybody. Again he wished he’d made the decision to scale the company back. Sell the units that were bleeding red ink or just close them altogether. His inability to admit failure or defeat was his undoing.
Look where that had gotten him.
He had allowed it to ruin his relationship with Devon because he was such a desperate coward. He managed to make sure none of it touched her, although he knew she was hurt that he was withdrawing from her again. But that was the one good thing he could do. Protect her. And when the situation became intolerable, he hatched his plan. God had sent him Leslie at a time when he desperately needed a woman just like her. Falling in love was an unexpected bonus. The fact that she was willing to hide the hard drive and folders he’d brought with him, that she agreed if anything happened to him she’d go at once to the DEA, told him more than anything about the depth of her feelings for him. How lucky could a man get, to fall in love twice and each time with an incredible woman?
Now, in Leslie’s comfortable saltbox house in this typical small Maine town, he really felt he was starting a new life. He just had to clean up a few messy threads from the old one.
As soon as Leslie left, he locked the door, fetched his new laptop along with a flash drive from his briefcase, and set everything up on the breakfast room table. It didn’t take long to boot up and access the secure web site and his anonymous e-mails. The moment he’d made his decision to do this—the point in time when he realized if he didn’t get out, sooner or later he could end up dead—he’d begun his research. He had to have some way to communicate without leaving any trace, and to receive answers if he needed them. The way he understood it, it was similar to the kid’s game with string called Cat’s Cradle. Every string only led to another string, and only the originator knew the starting point.
He had money to set up in numbered bank accounts, other arrangements to make, and he’d also wanted to be able to track what went on in Arrowhead Bay once he disappeared. For a brief moment, he’d been tempted to confide in Devon, but they hadn’t been close for so long he wasn’t sure how she’d react. But he had to have a connection to her.
His research had paid off. Originally called an onion network, it dealt with using encryption to create private anonymous virtual networks. It had the capability to bounce e-mails over a number of servers so anyone trying to trace him would get lost in the chain. He’d also learned to shut down any e-mail address as soon as a message was sent and create a new one for the next message.
He was set up to force all his e-mails to write only in plain text and not to pull in any images. He’d already tried it out, sending to another fake e-mail he’d created through another program. Nothing bounced back. But the real test was when he tried to trace it back to the source and location and he just got an error message. He could use each address once. Period. Obviously nothing was foolproof but if he killed every address after he used it and stuck to the basics, he could be pretty sure he was safe.
He was protecting not just himself but Leslie as well. If Moreno traced him to this little coastal town, not only would his life be worth nothing but Leslie would also be in danger. He’d taken the time to be sure he did this right. Now he was ready to get to work.
The first thing he did after logging on to one of the virtual private networks he’d chosen was access the web site for a shell company he’d set up. The one skill he’d learned well handling things for Moreno. Vince had explained every step to him as he set up multiples of shell corporations and explained how the money washed through them so he knew what they were doing. At the thought of Vince, sadness and regret washed through him.
He moved through the complicated network of entities, each one requiring a different password, until he accessed the one he’d filtered his own money through. The bank account totals were still correct. Nothing had changed. No one had figured out how to get to them. Thank God. After today he’d start sending regular payments from Morton Investment Funds to his new bank account. At some point, he’d figure out how to withdraw larger sums without causing a ruckus but he was a long way from that. He’d calculated what a reasonable monthly annuity would be and that was what he set up. Then he set up anonymous e-mail accounts, untraceable and if anyone tried to reply, they’d get a bounce-back.
That done, he decided to check the Tampa newspaper. His disappearance was bound to be news, even if it was just a mention. If they featured the story, it was probably on the local news channels, too. Although he knew the position Cole International had in the business world, he wasn’t arrogant enough to think he’d make the national news. At least not yet. If he found himself forced to blow the whistle on the Moreno cartel, it would be a different story, one he dreaded.
Tracking how far the police were progressing in their search for him was important. He was sure someone would have notified Devon when the boat was found drifting. Hopefully the Coast Guard would write it off as lost at sea, she’d grieve, and life would go on for her. But knowing his daughter, he couldn’t be sure. Had she gone to Arrowhead Bay? Was she involved in what was happening? The stories would give him an idea.
What he found made his blood pressure rise significantly.
There had been an attack on Devon and the Princess Devon had been blown up. They wanted the hard drive and would go to any length to get it. He couldn’t let this go on. But he had to figure out what to do and still stay alive and out of prison.
I need more information.
He went back to the secure virtual web site he’d set up and typed in the name of the Arrowhead Bay newspaper. If there was any place to get detailed news about what had happened since he disappeared, this was it. The moment the front page loaded he saw the story about him, pictures and all. He’d expected that. This was a small town and for them this was a huge deal.
First there was a detailed article on Devon’s incident. The thought of that scum running her off the road and attacking her made his blood boil. He was glad to see the man who’d stopped and run them off was an agent of Vigilance. He knew their reputation and that Devon was friendly with the owner. If they had taken Devon under their wing, she’d be well protected. And maybe, in the end, they would be his conduit to release information on Moreno if the scumbag didn’t leave Devon alone.
Right along with that was the article about the fire on Princess Devon and that the cause was determined to be an explosive of some kind. He read them over one more time, the details burning into his brain.
God fucking damn.
He felt sick to his stomach. Then a boiling rage surged through him. If Cruz Moreno had been in front of him right now, he’d wring the man’s fat neck.
Graham had figured—hoped—when he disappeared Devon would just have the authorities keep her informed of the investigation and that would be that. He should have known family was still important to her. No matter how he’d treated her lately, she had jumped in her car and driven to Arrowhead Bay to find out what was going on.
He ground his teeth as he read the details of the incidents yet again. He had to do something. He’d thought Devon would be safe once he was gone, but he’d made a huge error in judgment. He’d hoped everyone would believe he’d drowned and he’d be safe. Obviously that didn’t happen, either.
If he contacted Moreno, the man would know he wasn’t dead. But just because the man would know he was alive didn’t mean he could find him. Graham just had to make sure nothing could trace back here to this town and Leslie.
Damned if I do and damned if I don’t. But I really don’t have a choice. I have to protect Devon.
He picked up the burner phone he’d brought downstairs with him, activated one of the money cards, and went to one of the secure e-mail accounts he had set up. He wasn’t taking a chance using the laptop.
He still had the e-mail Moreno used to communicate with him. It was untraceable, just like the one Graham would use. Opening up a blank message, he thought for a long moment about what he wanted to say, then typed a simple message.
“Leave my daughter alone or I will ruin you.”
He read the words over once, then pressed Send. Moreno knew he had enough material to bury the cartel. If he didn’t back off Devon, Graham would start dribbling it out a little at a time. The Vigilance involvement was an unexpected blessing. Sending it to them would get quicker action than sending it to the Feds. If the cartel didn’t leave Devon the hell alone, he’d destroy them.
At last he closed everything on the laptop and leaned back in the chair. Tomorrow he’d check for a reply to the e-mail. If there was none, he’d keep his eye on news in Arrowhead Bay, hoping Devon’s name would not pop up again. Today he would wander through the little town as Grey Callahan, doing his best to blend in. And take the first steps to making a life with Leslie.