Concrete Evidence (12 page)

She’d come face-to-face with Jake and was such a wimp that she’d almost fainted. Pathetic.

At nine fifteen, she finished and shut down her computer. She stretched her neck and rolled her knotted shoulders. Her body ached from sitting and staring at the screen. She grabbed her purse and heard the rattle of antacid tablets.

Some people salivated at the smell of steak, but for her it was antacids, the one thing she ate on a regular basis. She popped two into her mouth and called it dinner. Her experience in Mexico had taught her what true hunger was. This was nothing compared to that.

She heard the click of a door closing in the hallway and jumped. Another person working late? “Is anyone there?” she called out.

Silence was the only answer.

What if Jake was still here? This time of night, even the cleaning crew had gone home. The building was empty. Chills raced up her spine.

She leaned through her open door into the hallway. The lights were on. The motion detector switches had been triggered by someone. “Hello? Who’s here?”

Cold sweat broke out on her brow. A fellow employee would have answered. She reached into her purse and grabbed her pepper spray. What if both Jake and Marco were here? She felt her knees tremble and placed her hands on a file cabinet to steady herself. Dammit. How could she be so weak?

Because Jake broke my will with dehydration, starvation, and the threat of gang rape.

Yeah, but what has he done to you lately?

She let out a small, bitter laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

She jumped and faced the door. JT Talon stood before her, a wry smile on his handsome face. “Jesus! You scared the crap out of me!” Her hand went to her racing heart, and she realized she still clutched her pepper spray. “You’re lucky I didn’t use this.” She held up the spray, and they both could see how badly her hand shook. He was even luckier she hadn’t launched into a roundhouse kick.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

“I called out.”

“I must’ve been in the stairwell. I came down, then realized I forgot something and went back up.”

She felt tension release by slow degrees and tucked the pepper spray inside her purse. “Sorry I snapped at you.”

“You shouldn’t be here so late by yourself.”

“If I had a better computer, I’d have left hours ago.”

He laughed. “Point taken. Will you be here much longer?”

“I just finished.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I’m taking the Metro.”

“You’re riding the subway this late? Alone?”

She shrugged. “I do it all the time.”

“Not tonight you’re not. I need five minutes; then I’ll give you a ride home.”

“The Metro is perfectly safe—”

“If you argue with me, you’re fired.”

She laughed, surprised at the relief she felt. Someone was looking out for her.

“I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down the hall. The stairway door closed, echoing in the silent building, and she recognized the sound that had alerted her earlier. He’d been telling the truth about being in the stairway.

She grabbed her purse. Maybe during the drive she could get him to talk about the new room at the casino. Did he know she’d been there last night? The last thing she wanted to talk about was Tommy Riversong.

He’d said he loved the Thermo-Con house. That was a safer subject. She reached for the project file to act as a prop to get the conversation going, but the folder wasn’t where it belonged.

She searched her desk and Lee’s. The file was gone. Could Lee have taken it home? Why would Mr. Incompetent do that?

“Ready?” JT asked from the doorway.

“I can’t find a project file I was hoping to work on tonight.”

He smiled. “Next you’ll be wanting a better computer for your home too.”

“A laptop would work for both.”

“Nice try.”

She gave up on the file and followed him out the door.

JT drove a bright orange, foreign, and obviously expensive convertible sports car. The low car hugged the road as they sped along the George Washington Parkway with the top down. She knew a large percentage of the single women—and even a few of the married ones—who worked for Talon & Drake would envy her right now. The man was more handsome in person than in his publicity shots, a feat that shouldn’t be possible. Wealthy and credited with a genius IQ, he had been photographed several times escorting trophy-wife wannabes to newsworthy functions. She’d been prepared to dislike him, but he seemed rather personable over a binding machine and was kind to give a lowly employee a ride home.

Young, handsome, rich, successful, and son of a presidential contender, JT Talon was the object of many women’s fantasies. But not hers.

She would never get involved with anyone who held so much power over her.

As the miles sped by, she knew she was wasting her opportunity but had no idea how to open the conversation. At last, inspiration struck, and she spoke. “Is your father going to make his announcement soon?”

He smiled but kept his eyes on the road. “Yes.”

His frank answer surprised her. “He’s really going to run,” she murmured. She’d thought about the senator running for president on an abstract level, of course, but her focus during the last year had been so narrow, she’d missed the broader view. “He really could win,” she said, and heard the awe and excitement in her own voice.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Kind of crazy, isn’t it?”

Here was her opening. “He’d have a huge advantage if casino profits could fund the campaign.”

He glanced sideways at her. She knew the statement was odd for a casual conversation.
So I’m not normal. Get over it and tell me something I can use. Please.

“It’s complicated,” he said finally. “We’re our own nation, so some rules don’t apply.”

“Will tribal gaming be a negative for him? Many people are against gambling.”

“The casino is a mixed bag,” he said. “It’ll turn off some voters for sure, but the senator is prepared for that. And Sam Riversong has worked hard to make sure our casino is better than the rest. The museum component is key. We’re not just making money off gambling, we’re educating people on tribal issues, history, and prehistory. As an archaeologist, you must appreciate that.”

She felt the solid thud of her pulse all the way to her fingertips—much as she’d felt last night when Tommy offered to show her the room. This was her chance. “I do. I’ve been to the casino several times just to see the exhibits. I can’t wait to see the new room. I’m dying to know what the theme will be.”

He smiled. “You’re going to love it.”

That was it?
“C’mon. What is it?”

He shook his head. “It’s a secret.”

“At least tell me when it’s going to open.”

“Nope. All I can say is the displays will be top-notch. I can’t believe the stuff Sam managed to procure.”

A translucent jadeite monkey, perhaps? A cast-gold skull necklace?

She gave him directions to her apartment, and minutes later, they pulled up in front of her building in Southwest DC. She climbed out of the flashy car and leaned over the closed passenger door to shake his hand. “Thanks for the ride.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Glad to do it.”

She began to pull away, but his fingers hooked around hers in a manner that was anything but casual. He glanced up at her building. “If you invite me up for a drink, we could talk about your need for a new work computer.”

Damn.
She hadn’t seen that coming. How in hell did she keep winding up in this situation? She cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

JT
WATCHED
E
RICA
K
ESLING
as she hurried inside her apartment building. His lawyer would have his ass if he knew he’d just come on to an employee. Even worse, he’d botched it. But then, he wasn’t the least bit interested in her, so he could hardly be expected to bring his A-game.

The building was nice. Not deluxe or anything, but with twenty-four-hour concierge and security, it couldn’t be cheap either, and Lee’s hacking hadn’t revealed any roommates. A steady income from artifact trafficking might be the only way she could afford to live here.

He’d had the perfect opportunity to try to earn her trust and blew it by waiting too long and then coming on too strong. He should have chatted her up from the moment she climbed into his car, but he’d held back. Because Lee had a thing for her.

Lee needed to understand the simple truth: Erica was a suspect or tool for gaining information. Nothing more, nothing less. JT didn’t know if his former stepbrother had the stomach to be so manipulative, but he suffered no such qualms.

Erica had been a suspect even before he decided to ask Lee to work undercover. As an archaeologist, she could know the value of the smuggled artifacts. Then Lee’s hacking had revealed her shockingly bad credit history, including allegations of fraud. She’d moved closer to the top of the list, and they’d decided to place Lee in her office. The woman had motive and means. Had she seized an opportunity?

He picked up his cell and called Lee. “You still at the office?”

“Yes.”

“If you’ve already grabbed that file from Arnie’s office, you need to take it home with you. Erica noticed it was missing.”

“Will do,” Lee said. “I just finished rewiring my Ethernet jack so I can connect to the protected Iraq LAN.”

“You know I have no idea what that means, right?”

“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re an engineer,” Lee said.

“I don’t need to know how a computer works to use it.”

“Basically, I have access to the secure Iraq project network without anyone in Bethesda knowing.”

Finally.
“Did you get ahold of Dominick?”

“Just got off the phone with him.”

“What did he say? If you find something we can use, will it be admissible in court?”

“According to him, I’m not a federal law enforcement agent, so I don’t need a subpoena. And since you—the CEO—gave me permission, legally, I’m not hacking. We’re good.”

JT had been worried about Lee talking to his longtime friend, Curt Dominick, the US Attorney for the District of Columbia, about their investigation. He didn’t want the feds to open their own investigation. To avert scandal, JT wanted to find the guilty parties and hand them over to the feds with a red bow—a display that corruption wasn’t tolerated at Talon & Drake. After debating the issue for a week, he finally gave in to Lee’s request to consult with Dominick. They needed to be certain anything Lee found could and would be used against the bastards who were using
his
company to smuggle. “Good. Now find the sons of bitches. This is taking too long.”

“I’ve only had a day and a half in the office, I have to hide what I’m really doing, and I have a supervisor who expects me to work on her projects.”

“I told you to be inept so she’d give up on you and do the work herself.”

“You told me to be an incompetent, indecisive, Indiana Jones wannabe,” Lee said. “I’m the intern from hell. I
hate
me.”

JT laughed. “I’ll meet you at your apartment in a half hour.” He hung up, glad Lee had conquered the network-access problem. Lee was relentless when trying to solve a problem or master a task. That was why he’d earned his fifth-degree black belt before he turned thirty, could play pool blindfolded, and had never met a computer system he couldn’t hack. If there were clues in the Bethesda network files, Lee would find them.

The problem now was Erica. JT stared into the lobby of her building. He’d seen the way Lee’s eyes had followed her in the copy room. He’d heard it in Lee’s voice. Lee was taken with her.

Regret twisted JT’s gut. If Lee’s infatuation stopped him from pursuing every lead, JT would have to intervene. There was too much at stake to worry about Lee’s—or Erica’s—feelings.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

L
EE MADE A POINT OF ARRIVING
in the exercise room before Erica on Thursday and was working out with the bag when she arrived.