Numbers Never Lie (Crimson Romance) (14 page)

“I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” He dropped the fork and stood up, but she placed her hand on his arm. He stared down at her, towering above her chair, his jaw clenched as he looked at her hand, then her face.

“Why?”

“Look, you just went through something pretty scary and you’re a little stunned, whether you know it or not.”

“I guess so. I’m also a little queasy because
someone
was trying to get me drunk … quite successfully,” she teased.

“That’s
not
what I was trying to do.” Finally his gaze moved to the window over the kitchen sink, then he continued speaking in an exasperated tone. “I thought it would calm you down. I didn’t know you were going to gulp it down like shots. I also didn’t know you couldn’t handle alcohol. I saw you drinking with your friends and thought … ” He paused for a minute. She thought he was going to say that he thought she was a heavy drinker because he’d seen her at the bar. Obviously, he wasn’t paying as much attention as he thought he was.

“Henry, you need to shut up and eat,” he barked as he pushed her plate in front of her and moved around the counter. His facial expression closed. She had made him angry. He snapped at her, “We’re going to have to file a complaint and check on your apartment today. Is there anyone you know that you’ve had a tiff with? Anyone who doesn’t like you?”

Sophie sat quietly, sulking from his roughness. She shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone.” She paused for a moment and gave in to the need to explain herself. “The drinks the other night were ginger ale and grenadine, for the most part. I usually drink one real drink and the rest are just soft drinks. Sometimes I’ll drink a few beers.”

“Hmmm. I get it. You like being in control. You’re not a drinker.”

“It’s more a distaste for hangovers from my college days. I had too many of them and I just don’t want to go there now. At twenty-eight, I’m a little too old for that, don’t you think?” she asked. Finally, she got a brief smile out of him. A silent pause hung between them for a few minutes.

“Any ex-boyfriends that might carry a grudge?”

“No.” She hesitated. “On the grudge part.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means yes, there’s an ex-boyfriend or two, but no grudges involved. We parted amicably. Or at least it seemed so.”

“I’ll need names.” A hard rap on the door came and Sophie jumped. Trevor smiled at her. “It’s okay. I asked the police officer on your case to see if they could send some clothes over for you. We have to go into the police department to file official reports. I thought it might be hard to do that dressed in my shorts and shirt, or at least it might be uncomfortable.”

“I hope they’re bringing work clothes. I need to get there soon.” She looked at the watch on her arm and frowned. “I’m going to be late.”

“You’re not going,” Trevor stated matter of factly.

“Of course I am.”

“Soph, someone was in your apartment last night. Someone with bad intentions — whatever they were. You shouldn’t be thinking about work right now, but about who did it and why.” He watched her fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt, twisting it in knots. “Why don’t you call and let your boss know you won’t be there today. Go ahead and tell him about the break-in if you want to, or just tell him you’re sick — that’s your choice. But you aren’t going to the office today.”

“Don’t I have a say?”

“No, not really.” He grinned at her and she felt herself warming up reluctantly. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until we know what’s going on.”

“That’s really sweet, but I can take care of myself. I’ve done it for a long time now. It isn’t necessary for you to hover over me, not to mention it’s a little bit creepy.”

Another loud rap on the door came and Trevor stood up hesitantly. “Creepy or not, you are
not
working today and you’re stuck with me. Let me get the door. I’ll be right back.” He jogged to the door in his bare feet, checked the peek hole, disabled his alarm, and stepped outside.

The voices in the hallway rumbled softly, too softly. It was impossible to make them out or know what they were discussing. Sophie rose from her chair and moved toward the door. The voices were almost arguing but in a hushed tone. When Sophie got close enough, she leaned against the door and looked through the peek hole. All she could see was the back of Trevor’s shoulders. A voice on the other side of the door said, “Okay. We’ll do it your way, but she needs to stay contained until we have the data analysis done. You know as well as I do what could happen.”

“I’m telling you,” Trevor’s voice sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth, “it’s not her.”

“You’re talking with the wrong body part, dude, but they’re going to back you for a while just because we don’t want a repeat of what happened with Bob. Stay in contact though. If you don’t, they’re probably going to pull you.”

“It’s under control. Completely under control,” Trevor responded.

The door handle rattled. Sophie raced back to her seat. The voices continued for a second or two, then the door whisked open and Trevor came back in. He locked up and armed the alarm, then started toward her. “Here you go.” He handed her a bag. She recognized it as her bag from the top of her closet.

“Who was at the door?” She wondered how much he’d say and if she should be more afraid of him as she lowered the bag to the floor beneath her chair.

“A friend.”

“A friend that brought my clothes from my apartment and has been rummaging through my personal things? Is my apartment wide open?”

“No, I called a locksmith last night after you — ” he paused “ — fell asleep. He said he’d replace the door and the locks. My friend met him there, got your clothes, and brought me your new keys.” Trevor held up two keys, dangled them for her to see, and then handed them to her. “It’s possible that whoever was in your apartment had a key. There were no signs of forced entry before I knocked the door down. We would have noticed it when we got there. And since you live on the second floor, it’s not likely the guy went in through the window. Have you given keys to anyone?”

“No.”

“What about a hide-a-key? Is there one lying around somewhere?”

“Of course not, that would be stupid in an apartment complex that size.”

“You’d be surprised at how many people do that.”

“Stupid people. Not me,” she said defiantly, then moved to her feet and grabbed the bag of clothes. “I think I’ll go see what’s in here to wear that might actually fit.”

Trevor stood in front of her, glancing at his T-shirt and her legs showing underneath it. “Don’t change on my account,” he replied smugly, then added, “Sure you don’t want to wear that shirt your mother gave you? Just for sentimental reasons, you know.”

“Funny, funny. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The sarcasm was still there.

“Damn right. I think that image will be burned into my brain forever.” He tapped a finger to his hair to punctuate the thought.

“You didn’t seem to like it very much last night when you zipped me into the straight jacket.” Sophie shot him a reproachable look.

Trevor leaned into her hair, putting his mouth against her ear, and she felt the warmth of his breath ticking the inside of her earlobe. “That was for your own good, woman. You’re dangerous.”

“Me?
I’m dangerous?
You’re joking right? Tell me, Trev.” She turned her face to look him seriously in the eyes, her nose within an inch of his. Realizing she was too close for comfort, she leaned back to peer up at him. “Are you one of the good guys — or one of the bad guys?”

His chiseled mouth turned slowly up and his eyes were shining as he responded, “It depends why you’re asking. If it’s about the break-in at your apartment, I’m one of the good guys. If you’re asking me to give you fashion advice on what to wear … ” His eyes glanced down at her legs. He drawled slowly, “Bad guy. Definitely bad guy.” His hand squeezed her forearm. She pulled back from him, feeling like a scared rabbit, not sure whether to stay or run. He dropped his hand from her arm.

Her face was flushed as she slipped past him. She wondered if he was still watching as she padded away to change clothes. Why did she trust him? He was devious in the way he looked at her. He didn’t even try to hide his thoughts, but in a crazy, sexy way, she liked the honesty of it. It was scary. But exciting. She wondered what she would do if he followed her at this moment. Was that all part of his plan? To make her want him? And what exactly was his plan anyway? She had no idea.

Chapter Eleven

“Okay, I got the copies and have already sent them to the shredder.” Lenny huffed into the phone. He was seriously out of breath from his effort to get to his car without being seen. He adjusted his rear view mirror as he talked with his cell phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder. As he pulled the car into the traffic, he glanced nervously around for pedestrians. No one running after him, no cars following. Good.

“Good.” The voice on the other end repeated his thought. “Did you have any problems?”

“Yeah, she came home while I was there.”

“What? You’re kidding?”

“No, I’m not. She had a guy with her. Some friend that’s a security guy. Or at least that’s what I heard from Callie.” His breathing was stilted as he punctuated the words, stopping for breath periodically.

“What happened?” The voice on the other end was clearly wondering if he’d been spotted and what to do next.

“I hid behind one of her dressers and skipped out when they were in the back. They didn’t see me, but,” he swallowed and took a deep breath, “they knew I was there. The guy saw me through the window. I don’t know if he saw enough to recognize me but he knew I was there.”

“Shit! What a mess.” Silence continued between them for eons. “Okay, let’s don’t panic yet. Wait a few days. Let’s see what happens.”

“I think I need to lie low for a while,” Lenny suggested. He wanted out before there wasn’t a way to get out.

“No!” Another lengthy silence while thoughts were gathered into a plan. “Go to work as normal. Do your job. You need to see what she does and there’s no better way to do that than to be at work. Besides it’ll raise more suspicion if you’re gone.”

He considered that for a minute. As much as he’d like to run, it did make sense. Whatever she did next would likely tell them how bad it was going to be and if they needed to worry. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“And, Lenny?”

“Yeah?”
Here it comes.

“Don’t call me on this phone again. And don’t talk to me at work, either. I don’t want to see you. If you need something, drop a note at the house and I’ll get back to you.”

That was what he expected. They were already starting to hide. They were digging their holes now and would be crawling into them pretty soon, leaving
him
standing out in the open to take the heat. He threw the phone across the car and pressed his foot harder to the gas pedal.

Lenny had finally gotten his lungs back and they no longer burned from the running. His breathing was normal, but his face was still beet red with anger.
Okay
, he thought,
that’s the way this is going to go, is it? No, sir. Not this time.
He saw what they had done to Bob and knew that he could easily go the same way if he didn’t plan appropriately.

When Bob died, he started making copies. Of the transactions, of the notes, of the emails. He even recorded the conversations. It was all stored in a lockbox at the bank. That was his insurance. His ace of spades. “Don’t call you. Don’t talk to you,” he repeated. “Don’t kid yourself. If I’m toast, you’re toast.”

He grappled for the phone, dialed home and waited for his wife to pick up. “Hey, babe.” He spoke cheerfully. “I got to the store by the house and they didn’t have any light bulbs left. So I ended up going on to the hardware store over on Buffalo Speedway. I’m on my way back. Is there anything else you want me to pick up?” He had gone out earlier, pretending to be pissed off that the lights over the bathroom sink were burned out. They’d been that way for two weeks and neither of them had bothered to replace them since the ceiling light still worked. It was a good excuse to go out though and gave him coverage to do what he’d needed to do.

“I can’t think of anything,” she said. “I put your dinner in the microwave. You can heat it up when you get back.” She hung up on him. He smiled at her aggravation. He’d pretty much lost his temper over the stupid light bulbs. The light bulbs didn’t matter at all; he was simply sick and tired of this entire scenario he was involved in. When they started it, the technology was so primitive it was easy to find ways around it. But recent months had brought all sorts of ways to block, detect, and encode the data. So much so that once the new system was in place, they were done. They had all agreed it wouldn’t continue. He was the brains behind it all. They had the clout but he handled the numbers. Still, he needed them to take care of the roadblocks. And lord knew, there had been a few. But this new system was more than a roadblock. It was a dead end. The technology had finally advanced to the point that it would not be possible to continue.

The board stalling to make a decision for a few months helped. It let them up the amounts and get more put away. It also let him concentrate on covering any and all loose ends in the data, getting the transactions straight. His thoughts darted back to her apartment. What a rush trying to get out of there undetected. He thought he would be terrified if something like that ever happened but he wasn’t. It was almost like pulling someone out of a burning building or a car crash. “Ah, what fun.” He sighed and then laughed.

On a whim, he dialed back the first number and when the voice answered, he said, “Hey, me again.”

“I thought I said not to call!”

“Yeah, you did, but I just thought of something. You might want to get the auditor on notice just in case. If she moves, we need to shut it down quickly.”

“I already knew that. You don’t need to call to tell me.”

He liked the exasperation on the other end of signal. He also liked that every word was going to be held for posterity in case they tried to screw him. The line went dead and he laughed.