Out of the Mist (Can't Help Falling Book 1) Page 9

"Trout fishing," he explained, voice neutral— as though they were discussing breakfast. "The McCreadys let him borrow their boat during the offseason."

  "Trout fishing? At the ass crack of dawn?" When he chuckled, she felt some of her own tension ease.

  "Clearly, you're not into trout."

  Anger rose over the ridiculousness of their situation. "The only activity I'm doing before dawn involves a bed."

  His eye brimmed with amusement. "Duly noted."

  Her startled laughter dissipated her tension. "I meant . . . you know— sleeping."

  Matt's smile widened. "Well if you were into trout . . . you'd know dawn is the best time to catch them."

  "I'll remember that when I come back on vacation." If we live through this. Her shoulders sagged. "Is there anything we could be doing? Besides sitting here?"

  "Jules, you've got a killer trailing you. He's tried and failed three times now. You've got a bum leg," he ticked off, his voice entirely too reasonable. "We're on the run . . . operating blind. No help yet." He folded his arms over his chest. "What have you got in mind?"

  "Tori is still missing." Indignant, she ignored his placating tone. "She was with me at that warehouse. I'm sure of it."

  "The elusive Tori Stash." He stood, pacing to the counter, his voice taking on a hard edge, revealing his frustration. "Maybe if you gave me a real name to go on, we might be able to help her."

  "Stansky," she corrected. "She's my assistant. Tori drove out to meet me."

  "Why were you here?" Suspicious eyes appeared to be memorizing every nuance of her expression— as though he could catch her in a lie just by looking at her.

  She hesitated, sorting the jumble of memories into order. "KTec is in trouble. I . . . was meeting with a consultant."

  "What kind of trouble?"

  "Financial . . . but I think it's more than that." Julie experienced a jag of excitement. "They're called Keyes Group-"

  He glanced up from his notebook. "I've heard of them. Corporate troubleshooters." Restless, Barnes drummed his pencil on the pad. "What was Keyes Group doing for you?"

  "An audit." She shivered. "I hired them a month ago"

  "To review what?"

  "Everything. Financials, inventory, warehousing. They were planning a site visit but it hasn't happened yet. I wanted to keep it quiet."

  His pencil stopped thumping. "Why?"

  "Because— it's someone inside." Suspicions voiced for the first time, her words echoed in the quiet stillness, her secret absorbed in the darkness. "That's why I drove out here. I didn't want to tip my hand until I could isolate the problem. The person."

  "Is it theft? Embezzlement?" His gaze resigned, he tossed his pencil down. "If you're withholding information that can assist this investigation-"

  "I don't know," she insisted. Keyes Group was assisting with a problem she hadn't discussed with anyone. Barnes' expression remained unmoved. "I'd barely started working with them." A familiar sinking feeling returned. "When I couldn't remember anything— the voice in my head said trust no one."

  "Jules-" His expression irritated, Matt leaned forward, readying a lecture. Until his eyes lit with a sudden flare of understanding. "Hold up . . . are you saying even the lawyer doesn't know about Keyes Group?"

  ***

  "Jules?" He scanned his notes. What was the attorney's name? "Dandridge doesn't know, does he?"

  Troubled eyes refused to hold his gaze. "I don't have proof-"

  "But you don't trust him." When his phone buzzed again, Matt bristled with agitation over the disruption. Damn, it was Leo. "Don't go anywhere," he warned. "I have to take this."

  "Finn's at her hotel." His boss' voice provided a dose of familiarity after a long, lonely night on the run. As usual, Leo jumped into the conversation mid-thought. "The Psychedelic Kitty-" He paused for a dry chuckle. "That's seriously a chick place." He rifled through papers as he spoke. "Said she checked in Wednesday night around seven. Was supposed to check out Friday, but disappeared."

  "Did anyone remember her?" His back to Julie, he wandered to the kitchen.

  "Room service Wednesday night. The front desk clerk saw her Thursday morning." Leo's pen clicked like an assault rifle in his ear. "Finn's got the surveillance tapes from the hotel. We should have 'em within the hour."

  "Anything in her room?" Glancing over his shoulder he discovered Jules trying not to listen in, but clearly excited over new information. Eyes huge, she clutched a pillow to her chest, probably not even aware she held it as she limped after him, trailing him through the kitchen. When she started whispering questions, he held up a finger.

  "An overnight bag. The usual. Toiletries. Clothes." Leo rustled the papers on his desk. "Brown University sweatshirt." Leo paused several beats. "She sounds a little uptown for you, Magic."

  Seriously? Matt shook his head. "Anything we can use? A laptop? Phone?" Shit— Something that pointed to the elusive warehouse? Anything that might finally steer them away from her? Not that he wanted that, he amended hastily. They needed the lead to Viper. If Julie was it— then she'd made her bed long ago.

  "Laptop. No phone," his boss confirmed. "Finn says he found an impression on a pad in her room. Does she remember anything about that?"

  "Hang on." Turning, he practically bumped into her. "What do you remember about your hotel room?"

  "Like what?" Eyes wide, she didn't wait for an answer. "It was cute. Victorian. Wicker rockers on the porch. There's a spa . . . but I didn't get a chance-"

  A spa? A damned spa? "The furniture, Jules." Tugging agitated fingers through his hair, he heard Leo snicker in the background. Ignoring him, he focused on Julie. "Was there a table?" The cute little notch between her brows made a reappearance. Why Matt wanted to press his lips there to ease it away was beyond him. The damn case was breaking. Why couldn't he focus on that?

  "Yes," she cried before covering her mouth. "In the corner." Her excited voice scraped pleasantly along his nerves. "I sat there . . . to write directions."

  Practically bouncing on her good leg, her enthusiasm was catchy. A reluctant smile twitched on his lips. "To the warehouse?"

  She nodded. "I was— on the phone with marketing. He gave me directions."

  "Leo— you got that? Finn's holding the directions to the warehouse." He frowned. "Who gave them to you?"

  "Our marketing guy. Bernie Lambeth. He said we had a potential client-" Mouth open, Julie paused, a tremor sweeping her when her brain caught up with the blurted memory. "Wait— he . . . he told me to go there."

  "Leo-"

  His boss cut him off. "I heard."

  Adrenaline surged through slumbering veins while his boss repeated the information to Finn. The marketing guy had sent her into danger. He wanted the databases smoking as they searched for connections between Viper and Lambeth. Glancing to Julie, his elation dampened when her face crumpled. While he celebrated new information, she was discovering she'd been set up.

  "Why would he do that?"

  Her anguished whisper carved a hole in his gut. Suddenly unconcerned whether he broke his own rules, Matt tugged her against him, absorbing her violent shudders.

  By the time Leo came back on the line, Julie's arms were around his waist, teary eyes pressed into his shirt. Frantic, disjointed breaths heated his neck. Matt acknowledged he'd crossed another damn line. Again.

  "Barnes— meet Finn at the hotel in thirty minutes. I want her cooperation with those directions."

  He stilled. "What about Munoz?"

  There was a long pause while Leo digested the unspoken question. Jules still had a target on her back. "Take precautions. But we're talkin' Viper. She needs to lead us to him."

  ***

  Unease battled excitement as Matt guided her to the kitchen chair. "We need to leave in a few minutes."

  Her eyes were still blank with shock. "Tori said . . . she'd meet me. The client," she mumbled. "That's why we were there."

  "Was a last minute client unusual?" Years of training spoke on his b
ehalf. Soothing. Neutral. His brain on overload, splintering in a million directions, he holstered his Glock. Planning a route to Finn that would hopefully prevent their being attacked on the way. New suspects. The Dandridge lead to follow up. Now Lambeth.

  She nodded absently, scrubbing her arms as though they needed warming. "With the financial problems . . ." Her voice took on a husky edge. "We needed the work."

  The cop in him catalogued her reaction. While the guy in him hoped she would hold it together. Prayed she wouldn't start crying. Not with his resistance pathetically low.

  "That means . . . he knew." Her voice watery, her expression crumpled. "He set us up-" Distracted, she shoved the blanket aside. "And where's Tori?"

  Helpless to the surge of compassion cresting over him, he stopped her when she would have risen, not wanting her to fall. Matt muttered reassuring words while she cried, and wondered for the millionth time what he'd gotten himself into. How the hell was he supposed to remain neutral? When his gut wanted to believe. Wanted to protect.

  "Jules— we have to go." Hating himself for rushing her, he felt her stiffen. Message received, she pulled back. Composure slid over her like a mask, making him feel small for not comforting her. Making him wonder when she'd learned to do that.

  Until they found something definitive, Julie was still a suspect. The warehouse might hold the clues they needed. "Finn's waiting for us. We need your help finding the warehouse," he announced. "My boss wants a report this morning."

  She glanced up, lashes still spiked with tears. But something in her gaze had shifted from fearful to angry. Determined. "What's in it for me?"

  ***

  Julie almost enjoyed the shock that jolted through Agent Barnes. At last, a recognizable emotion. The knitted brow. The clipped tone to his voice. Disbelief flashed in beautiful blue eyes. Well, why the hell not? He'd had everything his way since they'd met.

  "That wasn't a suggestion."

  The brief moment of humor faded as the minutes ticked closer to revisiting the terrifying place of her dreams. The place with the awful secret. "You've spent the night convincing me we need to stay hidden." Her heart skittered. "Will it be safe— out in the open?"

  Twin blue flames threatened to incinerate her where she stood. Agent Barnes apparently didn't care for ultimatums. "I'll take precautions, but it's not optional. I've got orders." He turned to the counter, his movements jerky with anger. "We're leaving in five minutes."

  Swallowing around the lump of fear, Julie stood her ground. "I'll trade you— for help with transportation. I want to go home." The thought of being stalked had her skin prickling with fear. But at some point— she had to get on with life.

  "Trade?" He whipped around. "You think you're in a position to barter?"

  Her stomach tightened with tension. "The directions for a ride to Boston."

  "What makes you think you can leave?"

  "Captain Jonas said when my memory returned-"

  Matt's frown cut her off. "That was way before we knew about Munoz being here."

  "If you think I'm a suspect— then you need to charge me— or put a tail on me." Julie hesitated. "Or whatever you do under these circumstances."

  Leaning against the counter, his expression was inscrutable. "And if you're a victim?"

  "You don't believe that," she reminded. "In your eyes I've been guilty since we met."

  Refusing the bait, he stood firm. "Two minutes ago you were afraid to leave this house."

  "Now I have a lead." She swallowed her nerves. "Bernie set me up. I need to find out what he's doing." What had she discovered that made her worth killing? "My company is in trouble— and I'm no closer to figuring out why."

  "Whatever this is-" He motioned expansively. "You're at the center. You've been attacked three times in the last five days." He pointedly checked his watch. "The last time— six hours ago."

  Julie ignored the thread of panic his words caused. She'd been afraid for nearly a week. Living that way for an extended period was unfathomable. She flustered under his intense scrutiny. "Hiding out here won't make me less afraid."

  "A week from now, the case could resolve," he countered. "You return to Boston safely— without someone hunting you."

  Wincing over his deliberate word choice, she reminded herself that Barnes wasn't her friend. She was a suspect. A lead. From the sound of it, his team had been searching for Munoz for months. Nothing would settle in a week. Barnes dangled the lie in the hope she'd believe him. But she could become a hardened negotiator, too. "I'll lead you to the warehouse if you agree to help me with transportation."

  An eyebrow raised over her ultimatum. "Otherwise?"

  She raised defiant eyes to his. Under a facade of icy calm, Julie hid a desperation that had been building for days. She'd had two grueling years of dress rehearsal in sounding authoritative when she didn't have a clue what to do. The shareholders at KTec had taught her well the ramifications of showing weakness. "I'm sure you'll figure out the directions yourself."

  "I could probably charge you with obstruction-"

  "Then do it," she challenged, calling his bluff. She'd been gone nearly a week. Her company was officially rudderless. It was time to return to her old life— ready or not. "Otherwise, we work together. I help you— and you help me get home . . . while I still have a business to salvage."

  His chilling stare was meant to intimidate, but Julie held her ground. If she relented an inch, he'd crush her. "I guess . . . we have a deal."

  Releasing the breath she hadn't realized she'd held, she smiled. There was no mistaking the frustration in his voice. "Good." One tiny step toward regaining control of her life. "When do we leave?"

  ***

  Chapter 6

  "Your neighbors don't mind you borrowing their car?"

  Julie's comment broke the tense silence they'd operated under since leaving the relative safety of the McCready cottage. Still unsure what to make of her ultimatum, Matt was both annoyed and impressed by her chops.

  He chose his route carefully— away from his mother's place. "I suspect they'll have an issue if I return it looking like it competed in a drag race." Through a network of back roads with the fewest local residents and a series of switchbacks, he drove through the slumbering town.

  "Some people are so picky."

  Despite his wariness, he smiled. So far— so good. No tail. No mystery vehicle trying to shove them off the road. But it was just past dawn, wisps of mist still clinging to the shadowy road where the sun hadn't reached.

  "It must be hard on Captain Jonas— a case this big." A fleeting frown marred the soft perfection of her skin. "He's lost a co-worker on his force. I'd imagine in a place like this, everyone knows everyone."

  "He can't decide whether he wants to run the op or stay on the sidelines. And . . . I can't tell him he's not qualified." His glance sliding to hers, he read compassion in the beautiful eyes. She'd done something to her hair, twisting it into a knot. Several long, honeyed strands slipped free, escaping to curl into her neck. They looked impossibly soft and silky. Clenching the wheel, he resisted the impulse to touch.

  "Once news gets out, the whole town will be asking questions. I supposed it's natural to want to appear in charge."

  "He doesn't have a choice." Jonas' icy tone had indicated reluctance about the change in plans. His gaze swept the road before them, seeking anything out of ordinary. "It's officially in the hands of DEA and state police."

  "Can't you give him something public to do?"

  "That would be up to Mullaney," he admitted.

  "How about local spokesperson? You could ask him, right? You've worked with him before?"

  "Eight years of my ten with DEA." He was surprised to acknowledge how great it felt saying those words. Maybe he was ready to return, after all.

  Seemingly overnight, a cold case now appeared ready explode. Lambeth and Dandridge. Two solid leads. Both centered around Juliet Kimball. Dandridge bothered him. Though Lambeth had sent her into dang
er, it was the attorney who'd gained control over KTec. Clearly a motive for something— but was there any connection with Viper?

  A question hovered in the murky shadows of his brain, but forcing it when he was battling exhaustion would be pointless. Running a hand down his face, he felt stubble. He likely looked as rough as he felt.

  "What about Tori? What if . . . we find her?"

  Julie's uneasy voice scattered his thoughts. Braking for a stoplight, he turned. "Try not to worry." Her sigh suggested that might be impossible. A sudden memory shoved its way to his frontal lobe. "If the Keyes Group meeting was secret— how did Tori know where to find you?"

  Puzzled features worked through his question— each thought visible on the expressive face. Lying was clearly not her forte.

  "She sees my calendar. She knew I was staying out here."

  "But not about Keyes Group?"

  Guilt flashed in her eyes. "I kept that secret from everyone. I just said . . . I needed a few days off."

  "You usually tell her everything?"

  "Tori's been on my side since I took over."

  On her side. An interesting choice of words. "My boss says the hotel confirmed you showed up Wednesday night."

  Julie's expression suggested her brain was on rewind. "I met Keyes Group Thursday morning."

  Easy enough to verify. Matt made a mental note for follow up. "What did you discuss?"

  "It was typical first meeting stuff." Her eyes lit with memory. "I handed over the financials and the film they'd asked for."

  Captivated by her determined expression, Matt momentarily lost his train of thought. "Hold up— what's this about film?"

  "Keyes Group asked for a few minutes of film of our warehouse operations."

  "They wanted an inventory?"

  "More than that. They wanted to see the processes— I guess because we'd discussed ways to cut cost." She frowned in memory. "Everywhere. Production and shipping."

  "So you shot film of your warehouse operation." Could that be at the heart of it? Had she witnessed something she shouldn't have? "Was anyone there?"

  "The warehouse manager."

  "Was he curious?"