Numbers Never Lie (Crimson Romance)
Read Numbers Never Lie (Crimson Romance) Online
Authors: Shelley K. Wall
Tags: #Romance, #Romantic Suspense
Numbers Never Lie
Shelley K. Wall
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 2012 by Shelley K. Wall
ISBN 10: 1-4405-5163-4
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5163-5
eISBN 10: 1-4405-5143-X
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5143-7
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © istockphoto / CTRd, 123rf.com
To my husband, Stan, for supporting all my dreams and desires throughout our years together.
And to my children, Tyler, Kyle, and Grace — The world is yours if you make it so (and if you eat your vegetables and exercise).
Contents
Acknowledgments
My sincerest thanks to my friends, Cindy Davis and Carol Bland, for their fantastic advice and support. My appreciation to Jennifer Lawler, for taking a chance on an unknown author, and inspiring me to work harder.
My love and adoration to my parents, Bob and Agnes Kurtz, who have taught me what hard work, respect, kindness, and loyalty really means — and more importantly what it can achieve.
Prologue
Lenny heard the door open and Sophie Henderson talking to someone. A rather husky male voice replied. The hairs on the back of Lenny’s neck prickled and he sucked in his breath. Sophie was supposed to be out all evening with that big guy he’d seen her talking to. What was she doing here? He glanced at the papers on the counter in the kitchen. He needed to get them but they were impossible to reach from across the room. He had the others from her desk but if he didn’t get all the copies, it wouldn’t matter. No time to grab them now. Most importantly, he couldn’t be seen. He looked around for somewhere to hide, or a way out of the apartment — a window or something. Nothing came to his immediate attention. He rushed down the hall, checking each of the rooms for an escape or, at least, camouflage. The spare bedroom was impeccable — apparently unused. So maybe it would work until they left. He ducked into the room and burrowed into the closet, slinking down onto the floor in the corner. He pulled the clothes in front of him.
The pile of papers in Sophie’s office proved enough to know she had suspicions. The numbers didn’t lie … they never did. He’d lived with numbers like this all his life; they’d been his friends through hard times. They’d been his enemy, too. They’d even been his bargaining chip a few times. He was a slave to the numbers and it was imperative to watch them carefully now if he and his associates intended to get out of this one cleanly. Manipulating them was easy — a cakewalk. He’d done it several times. Lately, though, the frequent need to make adjustments was frustrating.
But Sophie posed a problem and he needed to curtail her digging fast before it became harder to deal with. At the present moment, she was almost at the point of discovery, but hiding it better than the guy before. That would make it easier for them to deal with. Regardless, if something wasn’t done about this right away, she’d figure it all out and he’d be done. Done with his career. With his family. With life. And the others would pretend they knew nothing about it, silently sitting on their little stockpiles.
He intended to retire next year — but planned to siphon off another two or three hundred thousand first. Then the nest egg would be sufficiently big enough for him to live on for the remaining years. They weren’t really hurting anyone by doing this — the money just sat there. The fact that they never seemed to notice or care that the reports were sometimes off showed him that this amounted to “peanuts” for them. They were a government contractor and as long as they kept spending it, the government kept giving them more.
Besides, if the company hired an accounting department that didn’t know how to balance the books and find missing dollars, then they pretty much deserved to lose money. Isn’t that what a competent staff does?
But unfortunately for Lenny, Sophie seemed a lot smarter than the rest of them, and if he didn’t deal with her, she’d ruin it all. Her footsteps clip-clopped down the hallway, getting louder as they advanced. He shrunk deeper into the closet, pulling the musty sleeve of a jacket over his face. He even tucked his shoes under the box on the floor in front of him. The steps plodded past to the back bedroom, the clatter of shoes falling on tile filled the silence. Then the sound of a shower running reached him for a second before a door closed. She was in the bathroom. Did he hear singing?
In a way, there was a thrill to her involvement that enticed him. All this time, only two people had even noticed. And one of them was dead. It was, well, more than a little easy to hide, and therefore, boring. Not so boring now, though. He would need to be more careful in the future. First, he needed to get out of this damn apartment.
Chapter One
A streak of lightning shot into the transformer on the corner, sending fireworks everywhere. “Shit!” Trev cursed, and ducked his head further under his car hood. He had opened it as a prop so that he could attempt to get a better view of Sophie Henderson leaving her building, but now he debated the logic in standing next to all this metal under the circumstances.
Getting soaked to the skin by a rainstorm didn’t bother him. The brisk breeze sliced through his jacket and chilled his head, hands, and arms now that he was drenched. He grasped the edges of his stocking hat and tugged it down further over his ears. Drips of water from the car hood trickled along the back of his neck. His ears reverberated with residual crackling from the lightning strike.
No sense in doing this at all, I can’t see a damn thing … and even though the engine wasn’t a problem before, it’ll be soaking wet now, so it may not start.
“Oh shit!” his own words played back through his earphones. “You’re supposed to watch her, you dumbass, not talk to her!”
“What the hell are … ?” The last thing he needed was his partner, Nate, to get sarcastic right now. He wasn’t in the mood. He didn’t get the last words out before a wet, cold hand rested lightly on his forearm.
“Are you okay?” Sophie hovered next to him with that oversized red umbrella sheltering her, him, and practically the entire hood of his car. He’d never seen her up close but he knew the umbrella well. He’d watched it going in and out of the building across the street more than a few times lately.
“Yeah. Yeah, just having a little car trouble.” Trev looked down at the hand on his arm and smiled without raising his head. Tipping his head further caused rain to run down his face and drip off his chin in a constant stream. He ignored her.
Think
, he told himself. He needed to figure out how to handle this, and quick. He’d blown his cover. Now she’d seen his face and he wouldn’t be able to tag along anymore.
“Get the hell out of there, you idiot.” Nate’s disgusted blast burned in his ear. Trev had had enough of his sideline coaching. It was pouring. How the hell could a person see someone coming across the street in this downpour, especially with the lightning flash blinding him? He’d hated lightning ever since childhood. He played soccer in junior high and lightning struck the goal while they practiced once. It sent their goalie to the hospital with severe burns and knocked him and half the rest of the team off their feet. His ears rang for at least a day afterward.
“You need to get out of the rain, mister. You almost got electrocuted right there. That transformer is still throwing sparks.” Sophie pointed at the fizzling shards of light spewing overhead. She stood so close under the umbrella; he could smell her perfume — something spicy, kind of like burning wood. Her wet hand chilled his arm, yet the feminine fingers were long, slender, and void of polish or jewelry. She pulled her hand back to the umbrella.
“I know. I just need to get this damn thing fixed and then I’ll be on my way.” Without looking up, Trev considered his options. Should he just close the hood as if the car was now repaired, and get in and drive off? Or maybe pretend he intended to go call a tow truck somewhere? No, that would be stupid — the cell phone in his pocket offered a better option.
“Look, this car can wait. You’re going to get killed either by lightning or a passing car. With all this rain, you’re almost invisible.” She was getting soaked as well and it was obvious she was nervous being out there.
“I’m not the one holding the lightning rod in my hand, ma’am, and standing in the street next to the car.”
She ignored his smartass remark, checking for traffic. As her glance strayed down the street, Trev’s eyes flickered sideways at her, taking in the details. He noticed how the rain curled her hair into tight ringlets. In his line of work, one was trained to identify the shape of the eyes in suspects. Almond. Round. Narrow. Hers emanated round, shaped more like a macadamia nut than an almond. Face Shape: Heart? Oval? Oval. Build? Yeah. She was built. At thirty-two, his hormones shouldn’t react so quickly but they did, as if he were still sixteen.
“I’ll make a deal with you. Let’s go in that coffee shop over there on the corner.” She motioned to the lights down the street, practically indistinguishable in the rain. As she moved, he got another whiff of her perfume. “I’ll buy you a coffee. We can both dry off and you can call a tow truck.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay … you go ahead.” The assignment to follow at a distance and not make contact shattered. Most of his assignments were planned well in advance, each step carefully calculated. Improvising sometimes occurred out of necessity, but he obsessed on following orders and this wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to stay unseen so he could observe the suspects and their interactions. Perhaps the time for improvisation had arrived.
Nate’s voice rattled away in his ear, “Abort, man! Abort! Get out of there! Has she seen your face? Are you completely blown or what?”
Trev yanked the earplugs out of his ears.
“Doesn’t the water ruin those things?”
“What?”
“Your iPod or iPhone. Whatever you’re listening to. Doesn’t the rain fry them?”
If that was what it really was, maybe so. This one did a lot more than just music, however, and was built to withstand the most severe weather conditions.
“I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?” No eye contact. He managed to avoid facing her directly. His knit stocking hat, though wet, still covered his head and ears. Continuing to assess the engine for no reason, he weighed the possibility that she might be able to pick him out of a crowd if she saw him again.