Authors: Patricia Paris
Simms chuckled and under different
circumstances Gage might have grinned.
"Actually, I'm inclined to
agree with you on that. The topic of discussion was, however, very
interesting."
"The suspense is killing
me," Gage said blandly, dispensing with his thumb perusal and crossing his
arms.
"Why did you request to have
the details of the AG's probe into your company kept confidential?"
"GFI was cleared of any
wrongdoing. That's all our stockholders care about, and that's all anyone
needed to know."
"Hmmm.
When did you find out Carpenter's lover forged a letter to initiate the
probe?"
Simms had been a busy man, Gage
thought with begrudging respect. "About three days ago when Forrester
notified our legal group he was dropping the probe."
And
agreed not to disclose
the specifics of the case.
"Are you sure you didn't
somehow find out before Carpenter was murdered?"
"If you want to know when I
suspected Carpenter was behind the allegations, that would have been several
weeks ago, after he raised slanderous accusations against GFI at a joint press
conference I had with Mayor Phillips."
Simms's mouth curled up on one
side. "I guess I should be more specific with my questions." He
tapped his pencil against the yellow tablet he held on his lap. "The AG
usually doesn't make an issue out of cases they drop, so I have to ask myself
why you felt compelled to request confidentiality."
"Why don't you tell me your
theory, Detective? I'm sure you've got one."
"On the surface it would
appear you have nothing to hide; you were cleared. But to your request,"
the detective continued with a wry grin, "let's say an ambitious reporter
happened to be at the press conference, and after Carpenter gets popped, he
remembers the accusations. He decides to dig around a little and discovers
Carpenter bid against you for the riverfront deal and lost. He's a reporter, so
he naturally wonders if there's a story in there somewhere."
Simms angled his head, probably
watching for a reaction. Gage kept his expression neutral. He knew where the
man was going. It was a good theory, one he'd expected someone would stumble on
sooner or later.
"Please go on," Gage
drawled. "I'm fascinated."
The detective gave him a mock
smile. "He's got sources, and he discovers Carpenter's ex is working with
you to market your new development. Now things are getting interesting. He
thinks that's a lot of coincidences. Since Carpenter seemed to have inside
information about the AG's probe, maybe he should see what he can turn up on
that in case there are any other connections."
Gage refrained from clapping.
"You left out the part about Abby and me being lovers."
"Speculation.
Are you officially verifying it?"
"You know damn well what we
are. You've had a tail on both of us since the night of Carpenter's murder.
Neither one of us can walk out a door without tripping over one of your
people."
Simms shrugged. "You're
consenting adults. I don't care what the two of you want to do with each other
beyond how it impacts our investigation."
He made a note on his pad.
"Back to my theory," the detective said, rubbing a hand over his
chin. "If the AG reveals only that GFI was cleared, no one's the wiser.
If, however, our reporter finds out Carpenter put someone in Forrester's office
up to implicating your company in fraud, then you start looking like a person
who has a valid reason to dislike our murder victim."
"Forrester's got a loose
tongue," Gage said, furious the AG hadn't respected his request to keep
the probe confidential.
"He really didn't have a
choice. If he'd refused to disclose, I would have gotten a subpoena, and he'd
have had to let me see the file, anyway."
A muscle in Gage's jaw flinched.
"I don't give a damn what you know about me or Carpenter, just make sure
anything Forrester told you doesn't get leaked to the press. If it does, I
won't be a happy man. And trust me, Simms; you
do not
want to make me
unhappy."
The detective studied Gage with
probing interest. "I didn't think you cared about public opinion."
"I don't. Nor do I care if you
think your little theory constitutes motive. I'm perfectly capable of defending
myself if need be. If I wasn't, we wouldn't be sitting here."
Gage realized he'd responded with
more emotion than he'd intended or than was wise. He didn't want to give Simms
an edge. The man was too perceptive.
Silence bounced around the
interview room like a handball on steroids, turning the seconds into a long
drawn out pause that punctuated the standoff with each pa-ping.
Gage glanced at his watch. Simms's
gaze trailed off to the left, seemingly studying nothing in particular, his
expression thoughtful. When he finally looked back, his eyes had turned sharp,
as if they held a newfound awareness. He chuckled softly.
"You're trying to protect Abby
Carpenter," he said with an air of confidence that told Gage it would do
no good denying it. "Does she know anything about the probe?"
"She knows GFI was being
investigated, and she knows we were cleared."
"But not about her ex's involvement,
or that he had a lover working for Forrester who tried to help him implicate
your company."
"No."
Simms dropped his tablet onto the
desk and leaned forward. He rested his elbows against the edge then clasped his
hands together.
"I'm going to level with you,
Faraday," he said, as if he relished doing so about as much as he would
having
his legs waxed.
The image of Simms having the hair
on any part of his body ripped off strip by strip brought a sardonic grin to
Gage's lips. He draped an arm over the back of his chair and, raising his left
brow, met the other man's gaze.
Simms frowned. "I'd have to be
stupid to think Mrs. Carpenter hasn't told you everything we've talked to her
about, and you'd have to be stupid not to know we've considered her our prime
suspect up to this point. Whatever else we may think about each other, neither
one of us is stupid."
"Up to this
point?"
Gage asked, curious about Simms's choice of words.
"Does that mean you've changed your focus after talking to Forrester?
Perhaps I should have asked Robertson to come with me after all."
"If you want your attorney
present, we'll end the discussion now since his presence will have the same
outcome. Or we can call off this pissing contest so I can try to find out who
murdered Dick Carpenter and clear your girlfriend."
Gage knew he could call Simms's
bluff and walk out now. But what if the detective was on the level? What if
Gage had information that could help Abby's cause? The last couple of days had
hit her hard. She was persevering, but at what cost?
"What do you want to
know?" He might be making a mistake, but his concern for Abby outweighed
any reservations he had about Simms's agenda.
~~~
Abby closed her laptop and set it
on the trunk. "I'm meeting with Norwell tomorrow afternoon to show him the
print ads I did for
phase
one."
"Fine," Gage said with a
nod. "Let him know I've already approved the copy." He gathered up
the paperwork he'd scattered across her coffee table and stacked it back into
his briefcase.
Pulling out a large manila
envelope, he held it in the air a moment then let it drop onto the now cleared
table and said, "I got this from Cheryl Stevens, the VP in charge of our
marketing group today. It's a response to your implementation plan with some
suggested revisions. I thought I asked you to call her last week," he
said, looking slightly annoyed.
Her defensive juices stirred.
"I did call her last week." She remembered thinking at the time the
woman hadn't seemed too friendly, but she'd shrugged it off. Maybe she should
have paid more attention to her first impression that Cheryl Stevens didn't
sound happy about having to work with her.
"Then why the hell is she
bothering me with this kind of stuff? Did you make it clear I wanted everything
to come through you?" He stood up.
Okay, now he was in boss mode,
expecting everything to be what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted. Well,
she'd done what he
wanted,
when he wanted, how he
wanted, but it appeared her contact at
GFI's
headquarters had a different idea about what, when, and how things should be
done.
"Yes, Mr. Faraday," she
said, stressing the formal use of his name, "I introduced myself and
explained to
your employee
that I would be managing the account and that
everything regarding
Riv
One should be directed to
me. I'm not sure why she sent a
revised
copy of
my
implementation
plan directly to you." She stopped short of voicing her suspicions but
then figured the hell with it. He wanted to know, she'd tell him. "Maybe
she likes the idea of dealing directly with you. Maybe she was trying to
impress you by suggesting my plan fell short somehow."
Abby got out of the club chair and
stalked to the coffee table, snatching up the envelope. "Who knows,"
she suggested, slinging one hand on her hip, "maybe Miss Stevens has a
crush on her boss and doesn't like the idea of an interloper coming between you
and her."
He put his hands in his pant
pockets, observing her through hooded eyes.
She shook her head. "Just
forget I said that." She walked back to the chair and dropped the envelope
next to her laptop. "I'll look over her ideas and call her again
tomorrow."
He caught his lower lip between his
thumb and forefinger and tugged on it a couple of times. "I probably could
have approached that a little better, huh?"
She turned and looked at him.
"My vote would be yes." She read the regret in his eyes and sighed.
"And instead of morphing into
Cruella
de Ville,
I could have been a little less bitchy and tried discussing it with you instead
of getting defensive." She slanted him a glance. "And your vote would
be?"
His look turned tender.
"Whichever answer would make you most likely to kiss me so we can make
up."
"Oh," she said, having no
desire to argue and little ability to resist him, "that one does the
trick."
As she crossed the room, he opened
his arms. She walked into them, welcoming the comfort she always found there.
"You know—" She tilted
her head back so she could look at his handsome face. "When you hold me, I
can almost forget about everything else."
"Almost?"
His smile would tempt Satan. "I must be slipping." He caught her by
the hand, pulling her toward the staircase.
"Where are we going?" It
was a silly question.
"What?" He mocked.
"You think you can issue a challenge like that and expect me not to
respond?"
As was his habit of doing, he swung
her up in his arms, holding her close against his chest. "You should know
better, Abby. I don't take my ability to make you mindless lightly."
"I do know." She laughed
against his shoulder. "Why do you think I brought it up?"
"You little tease." He
took the stairs as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow. "And
now," he said seconds later as he let her slide down the length of his
hard body, "I'm going to make you forget everything but two simple
words."
Her knees went weak as his lips
began to sear a trail of flaming kisses down the side of her neck. "What
two words?" she asked, her ability to concentrate on anything but his
wicked mouth slipping away with alarming speed.
His tongue found her ear and he
whispered, "Gage, please."
Five minutes later, pleasure was
her abode. It hummed through her veins as he plucked the chords of her desire.
It drove her upward, seeking more of his touch. She opened herself to it,
welcomed it, gave herself up to it, and he gave her what she asked for.
"Gage, please," the words
came forth on a breathless moan. "Please," she said again, and again,
and again.
~~~
Gage watched the moon crest above
the bank of skylights running across the back peak of the bedroom ceiling to
spill its muted light into the room. Abby's fingers played in the hair on his
chest, her nails scraping lightly over his flat nipple. He shivered.
Catching her hand, he brought it to
his mouth and kissed the baby soft skin on the inside of her wrist. He could
feel the beat of her pulse against his lips.
"I went to the Roundhouse this
afternoon to meet with Simms," he said. He'd planned to tell her earlier
after they'd finished working, but he'd seen that envelope from Stevens and
jumped on her about it without thinking. Of course, then he'd gotten to spend a
very enjoyable two hours making it up to her.
Abby leaned up on her elbow beside
him. Her expression turned immediately worried. She searched his face, his eyes,
silently looking for the answers to the dozens of questions he knew were
already racing through her mind, pricking her fears.
"What did he want?" she
asked, and he heard the concern in her voice.
He slipped an arm around under her
hip, lifting her onto his chest. "Relax, he just wanted to talk."
"About what?
Why did he want to talk to you? He didn't accuse you of anything, did he?"
She sounded anxious. "I won't let them harass you because of me. That's so
unfair. Guilt by association, you know that's all it is!"
"Hold on there, tiger."
He chuckled and pulled her up higher where his mouth had access to hers.
"Baker's an asshole, and I wouldn't be inclined to ask Simms to join me
for a drink after work, but after our meeting this afternoon, I am considering
canceling the contract I took out on him."