Taking Control (26 page)

Tiny raises both eyebrows and mouths “wow” at me. Shaking my head, I push away from the table. I drop the gun in the drawer beneath it, which happens to be the utensil drawer, and stick the magazine in my pocket. “Good?”

She makes a face at me but nods.

“Sorry,” she apologizes to Lauren. “We
can
help you. Ian has more money than small countries. Tell us what the problem is, and we can solve it. It’s your brother, right? Richard Howe is threatening your brother?”

Lauren sucks in her lip and then bites it, as though that will prevent her from spilling the story, so Tiny forges on.

“Your brother got into some trouble, and he’s out on parole. Maybe Richard helped with that, and if your brother breaks parole, he goes back in and serves more time, right?” She doesn’t wait for a response this time. The question is clearly rhetorical. “You don’t want him to go back in, but since Howe got him out, he can send him right back in. Howe has a cop, maybe someone on the parole board, in his pocket, so he says keep your mouth shut or your brother’s parole will be revoked?”

Lauren’s mouth is hanging open, and even Steve looks on with some approval. Me? I’m starting to understand why Jake thinks Tiny is wasted behind a desk.

“Can you fix this with money?” Tiny demands of me.

“I’m not into bribing cops,” I admit. “That’s a high risk proposition. Maybe if we knew more about your brother’s situation, we could think of another resolution.”

Lauren stands up. “I see you’ve done a lot of investigating, but talking about possibilities isn’t enough for me. I’m going to go now. Either call the police or let me leave. Otherwise, this is kidnapping.”

Steve whistles. “You got some balls accusing us of wrongdoing when you’re guilty of breaking and entering.”

“I didn’t break in.” She sniffs. “The door was unlocked.”

“We have you fiddling with the door. You’re dressed in all black, and you’ve delivered a threatening note.”

“What threatening note?” Tiny looks around and then grabs the plastic baggie that is now holding the letter Howe had Lauren deliver to me. I’m not sure how much of it she can make out, and I’ll read it to her later. Her face takes on an ashen quality; maybe she can make it out just fine.

I glance at my watch. I need to check the markets again. “I hate cutting this party short, but it’s late. Or early, however you want to look at it. Steve, you take Lauren home. Lauren, this is my card. You change your mind, let me know. I think between the four of us, we can come up with a solution to your problems.”

Steve nods and reaches for Lauren, who jerks away. As she stomps toward the exit, he gives me a wave and then the two disappear downstairs.

I turn to Tiny. “I want you to get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep now,” she grumbles as I lead her up toward the bedroom. “How many times do we have an intruder in the house? This is kind of exciting.”

“Only you would think this turn of events is stimulating.”

“I have something to tell you, and I think you’re going to be mad,” she says as we stop at the bedroom door. The serious tone in her voice has me pausing.

“Let’s go to the office.” My gut clenches.

She settles into one of the chairs in front of the massive desk, and I drop into the chair next to her instead of rounding the desk and sitting in the office chair.

“Tell me,” I order. And then, because I don’t want to argue, I add, “Please.”

“I didn’t want to tell you because…” She pauses to pinch the bridge of her nose, and I take the time to practice my deep breathing so I don’t get to my feet and start throwing things around in frustration and fear. “Oh god, I have no good reason. At the time, I thought I had it all planned out, but now that I’m thinking about how best to explain it to you, I realize that my plans are really really stupid.”

“Please tell me,” I say quietly. The even tone in my voice is a fucking miracle.

“I’ve got two other notes.”

“I’m sorry, but I thought I heard you say that you had received two other threatening notes and are just now telling me about it.” I can hear myself yelling even as I try not to, but the terror of what she’s saying is breaking down all my self-control.

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Her words are muffled because she’s placed her hands over her face. “I should have told you before, but I thought…I thought I could help you. Find something on Howe, and then we could put it all behind us.”

“Tiny,” I say, my voice hoarse with the shouts I’m trying to keep suppressed. “We are a team. I told you about the men who attacked me. You are my fucking world. If you are gone…” I trail off. Her body is convulsing from harsh silent sobs. In short order, I have her on my lap. “Stop. I’m not mad. I promise.”

“I’m not crying to make you feel bad for me. I’m not manipulating you.” She cries, her frame is shaking.

“I know, bunny. You’re breaking my heart here.” I run my hands over her arms and legs and head to reassure myself that she’s hale and unhurt.

“It was wrong. I see that now. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t because I knew I shouldn’t have done it.”

“All right,” I try to soothe her. “What’s done is done. Tell me so we can figure out what happened.”

It takes several minutes before she’s composed enough to recount the fucking foolhardy plan that she and Sarah cooked up and the two notes she’s received. “We need to get those to Jake.”

She nods and hangs her head. No doubt Jake will be yelling at her, too. I’ll go with her in the morning because no one gets to yell at Tiny but me.

“The bodyguard is going to come tomorrow. Promise me you will use her. That you won’t go anywhere without her. That you won’t endanger your life. Promise me this.”

“I promise,” she vows solemnly. “I promise I will protect myself because I am your heart.”

“Thank you.” I close my eyes and clutch her to my chest. She finally gets it.

TWENTY

T
INY
REFUSES
TO
GO
TO
sleep in the bedroom, so we make a nest of blankets and she falls asleep on the sofa in my office while I handle international calls and watch the Asian markets. Before the morning light filters in, I get a text from Jake that the new bodyguard will be arriving soon.

At precisely seven in the morning, there is an alert from the back door. Outside I see a woman with short dark hair wearing a lightweight parka, jeans, and soft-soled shoes. She matches the picture Jake sent. Quietly, so as not to disturb Tiny, I speak into the intercom. “Name, please.”

“Marcia Stephenson” is the brisk reply. I watch her for a minute, but she doesn’t flinch, merely stares unblinkingly at the camera with her feet set and her hands hanging loosely at her sides. I approve, but more importantly I think Tiny will like her.

“Up the stairs.” The sound of the lock releasing prompts her to enter.

We meet at the entrance.

“Nice to meet you, Marcia.” She has a firm dry grip.

“Marcie, please. Marcia is too…”

“Brady Bunch?”

“Yes,” she grimaces.

“Tiny’s sleeping. What has Jake told you?” I gesture for her to sit down, but she doesn’t. Instead she prowls around the edges of the room, tapping locks on the windows and eyeing the layout. If she were a different kind of woman, I’d be bristling against the intense perusal, but she looks no different than Steve did the first time he walked in.

“This is a basic personal protection duty. I’m to ferry one Victoria Corielli and then ensure the safety of her person against any threats.” She looks at me and emphasizes the word
any
.

“Good. She’s the most important person in my life.” I dump coffee grounds into the machine and start the brewing cycle. “I’ve read your resume, but those are dry things. Why the bodyguard business?”

She stiffens at the word bodyguard, which tells me she is a true professional. Steve doesn’t like the term either. In one of his rare communicative moments, he explained in a wounded voice that personal protection services involve security surveys, advanced planning, and logistical preparation not merely guarding a body which any fuckhead could do.

“I’m not a bodyguard, sir,” she says with restrained offense.

I hold up a hand to forestall further explanation. “I know. Just a layman’s ignorant term.”

She doesn’t relax an inch. “Ms. Corielli will be my first priority.”

I pour myself a cup of coffee and offer her one as well. She hesitates and then relents enough to walk over to the kitchen. “Half a cup, please.”

Pushing a mug to her, I pour until she says stop, and then I empty the rest in another mug for Tiny. “Have you met her?” I ask. They both work for Tanner, so it’s probable that they have come across each other.

“In passing. She’s doing dispatch at Jake’s, so we’ve all come into contact with her at some point.” Her voice is neutral, not giving anything away.

I refrain from questioning her about Tiny’s work because I know she wouldn’t like it.

“Let me get Tiny, then.” I’m halfway up the stairs when I see Tiny coming out, dressed in work clothes. She gives a grateful look at the mug in my hand and swipes it from me. After gulping down a healthy swallow, she offers her face up. Heedless of Marcie’s presence, I pull Tiny hard against me and give her a long, hungry kiss, tasting coffee and the mint of our toothpaste. The very fact that I have to hire Marcie makes me a little insane. I want to pull Tiny into the bedroom and lock her away there.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, breaking away. There’s a slight flush on her cheeks which stirs my blood. Neither of us can be this close to one another and not be affected. I’d like to slide my hand into the front of her pants and between her legs to see how hot I’ve gotten her with just a good morning kiss.

“It’s a good morning now,” I say, contenting myself with simply squeezing her ass. “We’ve got another guest.”

“Another one?” she cries and tries to push her way past me.

“Run toward the abandoned house where the killer awaits you, why don’t you?” I complain in an undertone which she unfortunately hears.

“Are you suggesting I’m acting like the stupid girl in a horror movie who gets offed in the first five minutes?”

“Your response to the announcement that we have an intruder is to run downstairs and confront them.” I follow behind her as she ignores me and marches into the kitchen.

“Marcie Stephenson, right? I’m Victoria Corielli.” They shake hands as if they’ve never met before.

“I know. You’re working dispatch and reception for Mr. Tanner.” Marcie puts her mug on the counter. Apparently drinking coffee in front of the body you are to protect is verboten.

“I’ve heard your voice, but we haven’t met.” Tiny perches on a stool at the counter, and I call in our breakfast.

“I do a lot of field work,” Marcie replies vaguely.

The two chat quietly with one another. Jake has done a good job of finding the right personality to mesh with Tiny’s. When breakfast arrives, I eat my share and then kiss Tiny goodbye.

Jake calls first thing. “Steve gave me an update on your nocturnal visitor.”

“Did he share that he nearly boned the poor girl on my dining room table?” The opening bell for the NYSE will ring in thirty minutes. There are dozens of emails that have populated in the few minutes that I haven’t checked my phone between exiting the car at the front of the building to getting to the twelfth floor. They are all demanding to know if the rumors are true.
What rumors
, I wonder.

“He left that part out.”

“I feel sorry for his girlfriend,” I say, scrolling through several emails that ask essentially the same thing. There are three reporter requests as well.

“Do you?” Jake asks.

“No, it just seemed like the thing to say.”

“Back to Howe, do you want me to put pressure on this girl?”

“Find out everything we can on her brother. I want to know his lawyer, who prosecuted his claim, who his parole officer is, who the supervisor of that officer is. I want to know what they eat, when they piss, and who they fuck. We’ll find some pressure point somewhere.”

“On it.”

In the twenty-second email from the top, I see a headline in the subject line. “Billionaire’s Father Accused of Embezzlement.” My heart starts pounding as I double click on the email. I make it to the fourth line of the blog post from a major news outlet before I call Gabe.

On a cold winter morning in December, Duncan Kerr was enjoying a privileged life as a top manager at Lionheart Partners Ltd. By the end of March he’d be dead. Doctors’ reports identify the cause as a heart attack, but sources close to him hint at something more tragic. The cause of death is a mystery, but some point to whispers of embezzlement that plagued Kerr on his way out. Those rumors are now gaining velocity as the current CEO of Kerr Inc. is purportedly accused of engaging in the same self-dealing that may have brought his father down so many years ago.

“I want to meet with the editor,” I bark out.

“They aren’t going to name their source,” Gabe says. I can tell by his clipped speech that he’s read the article too.

“We already know the source. I want them to know we are suing them for libel. Whispers of embezzlement? They’re defaming both my father and myself.”

“It’s a blog. We’ll get them to take it down today under threat of a lawsuit.” This time even Gabe’s steady tones aren’t soothing me. I slam my hand down hard on my desk.

“Are you fucking kidding? We aren’t going to threaten them. We need to sue them. The damage is already done,” I thunder to him.

“A defamation suit will take years,” Gabe roars back. “If you want to do something now, then you need to take your fucking gloves off. Cecilia has to know she sleeps with a snake. It’s her responsibility to remove herself from that situation. She’s not your mother.”

The blood is pounding in my ears, and my hand fucking hurts. I look down and see that I’ve broken the hinges on my laptop and the LCD screen is cracked and ugly. Idly, I lift my hand and see blood on the palm. For years I’ve tried to avoid collateral damage by not going after Howe as hard as I could. But now he was dragging up the ghosts of the past. He was affecting my future and placing Tiny—my heart—in danger. So yeah, the gloves were off. Everyone standing with Howe is going to either sink with his ship or jump off.