Matter Of Trust
Authors: Lisa Harris
Print ISBN 978-1-59789-888-1
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-936-4
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-937-1
A MATTER OF TRUST
Copyright © 2007 by Lisa Harris. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
Table of Contents
one
Ty Lawrence was running out of time. He drummed his fingers against the top of his polished mahogany desk that sat near the window of his office and tried to calm his staggered breathing.
One more minute, Lord. That’s all I need
.
The computer whirred as it copied the files onto his flash drive. He might not have evidence to hand over to the police for an actual conviction, but he did have enough confidential files at his apartment to keep a government official busy for weeks if Abbott Financial Services was ever indicted. These last files, thanks to an unanticipated inside tip and his password, were the best corroboration he’d found so far in linking the CEO, Richard Abbott, to fraud.
And thirty years behind bars if Ty had his way.
Forty-five seconds left.
Ty stuck a dirty coffee mug and a half-eaten bag of peanuts from his desk drawer into the cardboard box he’d brought from home. The corner office with windows overlooking the city, the company Jag, and a yearly bonus that could pay off the debt of a small, third-world country hadn’t been enough enticement to stay in the game. Not since the morning he’d awakened with a hangover and the front page of the
Boston Times
in his lap with pictures of five executives from Orlando arrested for fraud and conspiracy charges.
It was a sobering thought, requiring little imagination to realize that was where he was headed if he didn’t get out before it was too late. The unexpected letter from an old friend offering him a job in Farrington, Massachusetts, had cinched the deal. Never mind the fact that he’d make a third of what he made now, drive his old car, and work from an office smaller than his bedroom closet. He’d have a clean conscience, which was worth more than Richard Abbott could ever give him.
Ty glanced at the computer screen. Twenty seconds. His head throbbed. Once Abbott received the resignation letter with his morning correspondence, security would be sent up to escort Ty off the property.
Voices buzzed in the hallway, growing louder as they neared his office. Five seconds …
His office door slammed against the back wall as his boss crossed the threshold. Ty looked up from the potted plant he was setting in the cardboard box.
“Good morning, Mr. Abbott.”
“What is this, Lawrence?” Abbott’s face reddened as he held up the resignation letter Ty had composed the night before on company letterhead.
An expensive, pinstriped suit hung across the older man’s broad shoulders and thick waist, but with his late-night drinking, high cholesterol, and added stress that came with trying to defraud a company out of millions, the man would be lucky to live past sixty-five.
“I’m guessing you found my resignation letter?” Ty worked to keep his voice calm and prayed for wisdom.
“I want an explanation.” Abbott slammed his fist against the desk and let the letter sail across the top. “I’ve spent three years grooming you for a place on our management team, and you have the gall to walk out of here with nothing more than a paragraph of explanation?”
“I’m moving to Farrington.” Ty spoke his well-rehearsed lines out loud. It was all the truth. He had just decided to leave out the part that he preferred not to be involved in the company’s alleged illegal activities or the fact he was probably avoiding an inevitable arrest by not sticking around and becoming the chief financial officer. “A friend of mine just offered me a job with Farrington Cranberry Company, and I realized it was time to make a change. I’m not cut out for this anymore.”
The veins in Abbott’s neck began to bulge. “It was because of your father I gave you this job.”
Ty dipped his head. “If he were here right now, I’m sure he’d voice his appreciation for all you’ve done for me.”
“You’re telling me you plan to up and leave all of this for some underpaid job in some … run-of-the-mill cranberry co-op?”
“Granted, the money’s not as good, but the stress will be minimal, and I’ll have a friend’s boat to use on the weekends.”
“You’ve got accounts to deal with. Clients to placate. You can’t leave, Lawrence.”
Ty slid a framed picture of the seaside off the wall and set it on the desk beside the box, each move calculated and precise. To Richard Abbott, Ty must appear to be another burnt-out employee needing a slower pace of life before a heart attack took his last ounce of breath.
“I’ve already gone over everything with Reed.” The diploma from Stanford came off the wall next. “The Caldwell account closed last Friday, and that’s the main account I’ve been working on for six months. I skipped the two weeks’ notice, figuring once I turned in my resignation you’d throw me out anyway. I’m just making it easier for you.”
“Easier? I …” Abbott gritted his teeth.
He’d never seen his boss speechless before.
Ty forced a relaxed smile. “I’m tired, sir. Tired of the rat race, the competition, and the sleepless nights. I guess I’m just not cut out for this.”
“You ungrateful—”
“No, Mr. Abbott.” Ty held up a hand. “Trust me when I say I’m grateful for everything you taught me.”
When it came to legal issues and taxes, Abbott knew every nuance of the law. The fact that the man was a criminal didn’t obliterate his brilliant mentoring skills.
Abbott spun around on his Italian loafers, knocking over a chair with his hand in the process. “Maurice, search him before he leaves. If you find as much as a thumbtack in his possession that belongs to me, have him arrested.”
Maurice appeared from behind his boss, 250 pounds of solid muscle in a coat and tie that were a size too small. Ty never had been sure what the forty-something-year-old did at the company, but at the moment it didn’t matter. The bald man’s lip twitched as he strode across the carpeted room and began digging through the cardboard box, dumping out the peanuts and spilling dirt from the plant across the desk. Next he turned to face Ty with a grin on his face that made Ty’s stomach clench. Even four times a week at the company gym upstairs couldn’t prepare him for what this man could do if provoked.
What was I thinking?
“Spread your legs and raise your arms.”
Maurice patted down Ty’s arms and chest. The flash drive burned a hole in his left sock where he’d stashed it.
It’s time for a miracle, Lord
.
Maurice frisked his right leg. Ty knew Abbott’s threat of arrest was far from empty. On hiring, employees were required to sign all but their lives away. And Abbott knew every trick in the book to cover his backside when it came to hiring and firing whom he pleased.
Maurice started on his left leg. Ty’s heart pounded in his chest. What had he been thinking when he planned to take the files out of the building with him?
“Mr. Lawrence?” Penny, his secretary for the past three years, knocked on the door.
Maurice looked up. Ty took advantage of the distraction and quickly moved behind his desk to pick up his box and framed pictures. “What is it, Penny?”
“I was trying to transfer a call through to you, but your phone’s not working.”
No doubt his password had already been deactivated as well.
“Reed will be taking my calls from now on, Penny. I’ve just resigned.”
“Resigned?”
He wasn’t surprised at the confused look she flashed him as he slid past her, but neither was he about to wait until Maurice realized he hadn’t finished his job. With all that remained of his life at Abbott Financial Services in his hands, Ty hurried down the stairwell, expecting any moment to hear someone shout out his name. The lobby loomed before him with its tiled floor and expensive artwork hanging on the wall. Another dozen steps and he’d be out the front door.
A vision of silky auburn hair and milk-chocolate brown eyes filled his mind as he slipped through the glass doors of the building into the morning sunlight. He might be leaving behind a six-figure salary, but there was one benefit of moving to Farrington … Kayla Marceilo. Kayla was not only his ex-fiancée, but also the only woman he’d ever loved. The only woman he still loved. Losing her had been the most foolish thing he’d let happen, and getting her back was likely going to prove to be more complicated than indicting Richard Abbott in a court of law. Somehow he would have to win her trust and prove to her that turning his life around hadn’t been just another one of his acts.
Ty glanced behind his shoulder. He saw no sign of Maurice or Abbott chasing after him. In twenty-four hours he planned to be sipping iced tea and listening to the hum of farmers mowing the banks of the cranberry bogs. And he had no intention of ever looking back.
Kayla Marceilo threw off her shoes and sank into the taupe-colored couch she’d bought at an estate auction last month. Soft strains of Vivaldi filled her two-bedroom apartment as she closed her eyes, relaxing for the first time all day. Moments like these made her grateful she’d moved away from Boston’s bustling suburbs to the quiet of Farrington. She loved the winding roads of the countryside filled with apple orchards, quiet woodlands, and the bright red cranberry bogs. Working in her mother’s catering business had given her a fresh start, allowing her to leave behind certain ghosts from the past.
The phone rang beside her. Kayla opened her eyes and sighed, wishing she’d remembered to turn off the ringer. She’d spent the past ten hours on her feet, baking seafood cream puffs and petite crab cakes, along with an assortment of other dishes for Sarah Jamison’s full buffet wedding reception. Now she wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next week. The answering machine could pick it up. She closed her eyes again, then remembered the answering machine had stopped working three days ago and she hadn’t had time to replace it.
She answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?”
“Kayla. It’s … Ty.”
The sound of his familiar voice sent a ripple of goose bumps across her skin. She sat up straight. “Ty, it’s been a long time.”
Twelve months to be exact
.
“Yes, it has. How are you?”
“I’m good.” Extremely good with you out of my life.
“How is the catering business?”
Kayla hesitated. Most people assumed she had moved back to her hometown a year ago to work in her mother’s catering company. The truth was she left Boston to forget about the man she loved. Had loved, she corrected herself.
She cleared her throat and tried to corral her runaway heartbeat. “We manage to stay pretty busy.”
“I remember what a great cook you were. I sure could go for a big helping of some of your cream carmel.”
“Crème Caramel.” Kayla corrected his French, laughing for an instant at his horrible accent before stopping herself. She had to be careful. Ty Lawrence had a way of charming his way into the stickiest of situations. “Where are you?”
“I’m here in Farrington. That’s what I called to talk to you about.”
“You’re in town?” Kayla’s pulse raced at the thought of him so near. While she never regretted her decision to call off their wedding, the truth remained that no one had ever affected her the way Ty had. From his charming smile, striking looks, and stirring kisses—at one time he had been her knight in shining armor. Until she’d found out who he really was: a black knight in disguise.
“I know this is a bit awkward.” Ty’s voice sounded strained. “But I really need to talk to you … in person.”