T is for Temptation (15 page)

“Let me be the judge of that. I am your lawyer, after all.”

“You’ll have to take my word for it.”

No way would he share Tee’s secret. Alex would laugh his head off or commit him in a heartbeat. And as his distance from Tee increased, so did his skepticism. Blasted didn’t affect his hardening every time he thought of her in that skimpy peach bikini though.

“Jake, your situation is precarious. Now is not the time to clam up on me. I only staved off Homeland Security by agreeing to an interview tomorrow morning.”

“I forgot to mention Tony’s office was burglarized. They took every piece of equipment and wrecked anything they couldn’t carry.”

“Crap, crap, and more crap.” Alex tossed the Montblanc fountain pen he’d been twirling with one hand onto the desk. “This is going to be a bitch to unravel.”

“I have to be on a plane to
London
tonight.”

“Not possible, they’ll get you at the airport. That 20K deposit has everyone spooked. And it points to you since
Trent
is dead. Plus, the majority are marked bills.” He picked up the pen again and started a two-fingered swirling.

“Marked? Jesus, what else can go wrong?” Jake sighed and slouched lower in the chair. He crossed his feet at the ankles and contemplated his moccasin-style shoes. “I thought they did that only with kidnappings.”

“They do.”

“Wonderful. Money from a kidnapping ends up deposited in a suspended account with my company’s name on it. Blast it, Alex, I’d have to be an idiot to do something so stupid.”

“Why are you so wound up? I haven’t seen you this tense since high school.” Alex swiveled the chair to the right, stretched out his legs, and scrutinized his friend.

“Stop studying me like an insect. Give it to me straight.” Jake drummed his fingers on the leather armrest.

“A prominent family in
Colombia
paid three million US dollars to their daughter’s kidnappers eight months ago. Approximately twenty percent of the bills were marked randomly. Most of that 20K deposit came from the ransom payment.”

“I’ve never even been to
Colombia
. How could anyone suspect I’m involved?” Jake straightened, leaned forward in the chair, rested his elbows on his knees, and steepled his hands together.

“You aren’t officially a suspect—not at this point anyway. As your attorney and friend, though, I should warn you, the situation’s grim. Let me investigate the widow.”

“No, and don’t mention it again.”

“I’m on your side, Jake. There’s no need to snap at me. I’d advise you to speak to the relevant authorities immediately.”

“Why should I? They have nothing on me. I have an international cell phone and can answer any question within hours. Unless the authorities want to question me between now and
three o’clock
, they’re toast.”

“It’s not like you to ignore my advice.” Alex shot him with his lawyer-courtroom-interrogative glance, and his tight features relaxed. “It’s the widow, isn’t it? How many trips to
Trinidad
have you made since Tony’s death? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t speculate. It’s not like you to be nosy.”

“I’m a lawyer.” Alex guffawed. “It’s my business and my nature to be curious.”

Jake rose. He’d lose any chance with Tee if he missed his flight.

“Sit down. I haven’t finished.”

He scowled at his friend, but obeyed his order. “Well?”

“I know you’re innocent, and at this point, there’s not enough proof for an arrest warrant. Don’t cooperate and it’s going to stand against you, if we go to trial. Miss the Homeland Security appointment tomorrow morning and I guarantee they’ll take you into custody. Homeland Security does not need evidence to detain someone, just suspicion.”

“You’ve convinced me. I’ll change my flight. What time is the meeting?”

“Nine. Steady, there’s more. The Interpol division of Scotland Yard also wants to speak with you. I got a call from one Sir Arthur Flood from
London
. I’ll arrange for you to meet him while you’re there.”

“Done. Next?”

“A Colombian general called me before Interpol notified me about the marked bills. His granddaughter was the kidnap victim. Made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. While he was polite, he insists on speaking with you. He flew in yesterday and came directly to my office.”

“Jesus,” Jake said, and the hollowness in his belly ballooned.

“You can say that again. I’m not easily intimidated, but that was a tense interview. I arranged for you to see him tomorrow at
7:00 a.m.
”

“What the hell did Tony get me into? What are the dots connecting all of this?”

“I know what you mean. Too many coincidences. I started another investigation into Tony’s background, using an offshore security company this time. They’re not bound by US laws, and I’m hoping they’ll uncover something useful.”

Exasperation and frustration threatened to morph into rage, and Jake gripped the soft leather arms of the chair to regain some semblance of control. “I’ve worked hundred-hour weeks for years to build the company, but I became too impatient. Instead of taking Tony’s capital, I should’ve slowed the acquisition rate.”

“Hindsight,” Alex said and inclined his head. “There’s some good news. With the new attention from Interpol and Homeland Security, the
IRS
folded their investigation. The
US
books are perfect, and they’ve no authority in
Antigua
, or
Trinidad
for that matter.”

“I’ll take any good news at this point.”

“You look beat. Go home and nurse a few Scotches.”

“Best advice so far.” Jake stood. “Thanks, Alex, I appreciate the cover.”

“What are friends for?”

He took two long strides before Alex’s voice halted him.

“Be careful. Watch your temper with these men.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“One misstep and you could be slapped into prison. The new terrorist laws give absolute power to arrest and lock away anyone, even a
US
citizen. Call me at the slightest sign of trouble. Let’s use our old code words.”

Jake smiled. Memories of the old days at the orphanage warmed his insides. “Maggie May. Don’t worry, I realize the seriousness of all of this. I wouldn’t have agreed to change my flight otherwise.”

Checking in at his office, he held a quick meeting with his finance team and ordered a security clampdown internally—no interviews, no press releases, no journalist interaction. Satisfied with his preparations and with current cash flow projections, Jake didn’t arrive at his condo until after six that evening. After a quick shower, he tumbled onto the bed, turned on the news, and fell asleep in short order.

Jerking awake hours later with the image of Tee in her peach bikini searing his mind, he scowled at his raging erection and rumbling stomach. As per normal, a scavenging of the kitchen produced a box of crumbling crackers and one of stale cereal. Better than nothing.

He called Claridge’s Hotel in
London
at
4:00 a.m.
Florida
time

“I want the concierge.”

When a clipped English male voice asked how he could be of service, Jake replied, “Who am I speaking to?” He waited for the man’s response. “Mr. Brown, I’m Jake Mathews. I have the Davies suite booked for this evening under the name Mathews and Trent Corporation. A guest will be staying with me, a Mrs. Tallulah Trent. She’s due to arrive at Heathrow at
9:00 a.m.
Can you arrange to have a limo meet her?”

The telephone system played Bach when Brown put him on hold. Jake picked up the remote and muted the sound on the TV.

“I’m aware the traffic situation is erratic. I’m watching the news here in
Florida
.”

He listened to the man’s warning.

“Fine, the limo may not make it to the airport on time. I don’t care. I’ll pay for it anyway, whether you locate Mrs. Trent or not. Let me give you her mobile number, 868-624-9550.”

Mr. Brown went into a long explanation of the fees.

“I don’t care about the price. Bill the amount to the suite.”

The man wished him a good day.

“Hang on, Mr. Brown, I’m not done.” Bach again; the man had put him on hold. Jake flipped channels while waiting.

“Brown, you’re back. Take this down. Deliver two dozen pink roses to one of the bedrooms in the suite, and make sure the bellman takes Mrs. Trent to the bedroom with the roses.”

On hold again. If he had to listen to classical music, he preferred Beethoven any day. Jake drummed his fingers on the desk. More Bach, and then Brown came on the line and asked him if he needed anything else.

“Yes, I have two more requests. Ten minutes before Mrs. Trent arrives, have the driver alert the hotel. I want someone to draw a bath for her. Make sure it smells of roses.”

Waiting for the concierge to get back to him, Jake wondered how many piano concertos Bach composed during his lifetime. They were so dreary. He stood, walked to the window, and tugged the cord for the blinds. They flew up. The horizon showed a faint hint of gold.

“Last request, deliver a bottle of a good red wine to the room and decant it before Mrs. Trent arrives. If you can get an Edmeades Zinfandel, that would be perfect. That’s it. I’ll make sure you know how appreciative I am when I arrive later today. You’ll be well compensated, I assure you.”

Jake chuckled when Mr. Brown asked, “And should I arrange your transportation as well, Mr. Mathews?”

“My flight arrives at four. I’ll be on the lookout for your limo driver. Bye.”

Jake dropped the landline into its charger and headed to the bathroom, halting in the doorway. A cascade of panic had his teeth grinding, his lungs stuttering, and he bumped his forehead against the doorframe and groaned. Why the hell had he done something so impulsive and foolish? Ordering flowers, wine, and a bath? Blast, had he actually asked the man to make it smell of roses?

Muttering a few choice expletives, he re-focused on the events of the coming day, and continued into the bathroom. He could well be in jail by the end of the day.

Adjusting the jets to a pounding pulse, he lingered in the shower in the hopes the remorseless water battering would ease the stiffness in his neck and shoulders; all to no avail. Dreading the interviews with Homeland Security and the Colombian general, his gaze happened upon the digital clock on the marble counter; Tee’s plane should be landing in
London
soon.

Dawn broke in a glorious ball of burnt amber rising above a horizon delineated by the deep blue of the
Atlantic Ocean
. Boca daybreaks always proved spectacular, even when the tropical humidity peaked above a hundred percent.

Jake checked his watch, seven on the dot. He had made it to the appointment with the Colombian General on time. To his surprise, the general proved an efficient, decisive man, and the interview went well. Within less than thirty minutes, the man acknowledged Jake had nothing to do with the kidnapping.

Alex arrived in time to catch the army commander ending their meeting. They rushed to his office for the Homeland Security interview.

Two hours of aggressive, hostile questioning frayed Jake’s temper. At
noon
, Alex finally demanded the agents leave or produce a warrant for Jake’s arrest. They reluctantly left, promising to do just that.