Authors: Mallory Crowe
The receptionist nodded and led Victoria and Jace through the offices. “Right this way. He’s been here since the beginning of summer and we’re grateful to have him.””
Victoria didn’t believe a word the woman was saying, but she did appreciate a loyal assistant. She highly doubted the nineteen-year-old heir to the Farrell fortune was that great of an asset to the company. When the woman came to a stop outside a closed door, Victoria pushed her way in.
Nathaniel Farrell looked just like she expected: Handsome, in a perfectly tailored suit that cost more than her rather considerable monthly rent. Rich, living off Daddy’s money and proud of it.
He stood as she entered. “Ms. Green. What a nice surprise.” He held out a hand.
She gave Jace a look and he gently closed the door so only the three of them were in Nathaniel’s large office. She pointedly ignored his outstretched hand. “Don’t worry, I won’’t be long, Nate.”
His smile disappeared as he stared her down. “So I’m assuming you’re not here to talk business.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No. I’m here to discuss Katy Carey.” His entire demeanor changed in a heartbeat. ““Oh, honey. If you want to make it in this city, you really need to work on your oh shit face.”
“There’s nothing happening between me and Katy,” he insisted.
“I know. I’m here to make sure it stays that way.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What does it matter to you who I pass the time with?”
She raised a brow. “Her brother is my boyfriend.” It felt strangely good to say that out loud. But she didn’t have time to revel at the moment. ““So his business is my business from now on.”
“So what? You’re going to warn all the men in the city to stay away from her? She’s pretty. She’s too smart for her own good. You can’t keep her locked away.”
She took a step forward and stared him down. “I’m not trying to keep every man away from her. Just you. I know your type. I know her type. And I dare you to look me in the eyes and tell me she’s not too good for you.”
Nathaniel met her gaze, but no words came out. At least he had the decency not to lie.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Farrell.” With that, she turned and nodded to Jace, who held the door open for her as she strode out and back to the elevator bay. Once they were on their way down, Jace studied her.
“What?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing. That was just more fun than I expected.”
She nodded. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” Her phone buzzed in the clip that held it to her skirt. All the outfits that made her look like a CEO had a bad habit of not having pockets. She glanced down at the text. “It looks like Terry wants to go out to dinner,” she told Jace as the elevator hit ground level.
There went her plans of getting any work done.
Great. Going out to dinner with her brother right after he found out the bulk of their father’s estate was going to her. This wouldn’t be awkward at all.
“Where does your brother live?” Jace held the door for her as they moved onto the street.
“He’s sending the address now. I haven’t been to his new place.”
“Maybe it’s not the best idea to have a private dinner with your brother and me. I might kill the mood.”
“I don’t want to be rude, but it would probably be best if you stay in the lobby while Terry and I talk.”
Jace came to a stop. “Ma’am, I think it would be best to have this in a public place.”
“And I think that my brother isn’t a killer. And since I will probably end up bawling like a baby, I don’t want to be anywhere that I can be recognized. The press got their pictures of me this morning and I allowed it. I need some privacy.”
Jace didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? One hundred percent sure? There’s no room for probably here.”
Victoria didn’t have to think before her answer. She’d been doubting Terry ever since he showed up in town, and she had to admit that she’d been wrong. ““A hundred percent.”
“I don’t agree,” said Jace simply as he reached into his pocket. “Have you ever used pepper spray before?”
She looked down to the small black canister he handed her. “I had some in college, but I never used it.”
“It’s easy. Aim at the face, don’t spray when the wind is blowing in your direction, and get the hell out ASAP. For one, if you spray it inside, it’’s going to get in your eyes no matter what. The idea is to get more of it in your attacker’s. For two, even in pain, they’re not incapacitated. Spray. Run. Got it?”
“Easy peasy.” She hooked the canister onto her phone clip and adjusted her suit jacket to cover it. Just then, another text came in. She checked it and showed the screen to Jace. “Now we have our address.”
The apartment was uptown, so it wasn’t a long drive from the Farrell Corp building to the upscale apartment building that Terry directed her to. Jace gave her one last disapproving look before she got out of the car and walked in. She directed the driver to stay close and he nodded before he made room for the other vehicles making dropoffs.
The doorman nodded at her as she walked in. Apparently she was expected. As she reached the lobby, she looked down to her phone. Six fifteen. Gordon should have the video tapes by now. She might be a hundred percent sure Terry wasn’t the guy, but she was still in a hurry to know who.
She keyed in the numbers for Gordon and, in typical Gordon style, he answered on the first ring. Without any formal greeting, he said, “I just pulled the footage up. I’ll send you the photo within the next ten minutes.”
She’d give anything to be in the office with him as he found the son of a bitch doing this to her. So she didn’t have to carry pepper spray and a bodyguard with her wherever she went. But it would be just as easy to check her text messages upstairs as in the lobby.
So Victoria got into the elevator and took it to the twenty-first floor. The building was nice. Not as nice as hers, but obviously Terry still had a decent chunk of money saved away, and Joslyn had her own trust fund.
Hopefully Terry had some wine. Or whiskey at this point. It had been a long day. She’d take what she could get.
The hall didn’t have many doors, signaling that the apartments were big. This place really was nice. If she walked in to find a two-story apartment, she’d be especially shocked that Terry could afford it. Maybe after he sold the property that had been left to him, this would be within his reach, but he’d been unemployed and burning through his trust at a rapid rate for the past few years.
As she reached Terry’s door, she rubbed her temples. If Terry wanted to blow all of his money, that was his problem. She gave him a job she felt he was qualified for, and if he blew his entire, relatively small, salary, that would be his problem. She’d reached the extent of her charity with him.
If he proved himself, he’d get more responsibility and be rewarded.
She knocked on the door.
This was going to be a nice, pleasant evening
, she told herself.
No talking about money. Just fond memories of Dad.
The door opened and Joslyn appeared, a massive smile on her face. “I’m so glad you could make it! Come on in. You must’ve had such a long day. I can’’t believe you worked after the funeral.”
Joslyn reached in for a hug and Victoria hesitantly leaned in. She supposed sister-in-laws hugged, but she just wasn’t that kind of person. Luckily, it was over soon enough. Victoria kicked herself. Joslyn had been nothing but pleasant and had been an enormous help during the funeral. She didn’t have to act like the woman had some sort of contagion.
“Come on in. I’ve got some of my family’s famous crab cakes on the stove.”
Victoria followed her into the massive loft space. Although it wasn’t a double story apartment, the ceilings were well over twelve feet high. The living room, kitchen, and entryway were all oversized spaces. The kitchen was in ultra-modern stainless-steel everything: counters, appliances, seating. Not her style, but it was nice. “It’s a cool place.” She took a seat at one of the bar stools against the kitchen island.
“Isn’t it?” Joslyn pulled some glasses down from a cabinet. “It’’s not really what I’m used to, but it’s so New York, I just couldn’t pass it up.””
Victoria frowned.
Didn’t Terry have a say?
“I thought Terry was going to be here.”
“Oh, he’s supposed to be here now. He probably got stuck in traffic, though. You know how it is around this time.”
“Yeah…”
He hadn’t mentioned that in his text.
Victoria pulled her phone off the clip and checked it for another message from Terry, but there was no signal.
Which meant no picture from Gordon. Damn it.
Her disappointment was immediately alleviated when she looked up to see Joslyn fiddling with the blender.
“I hope you’re a margarita girl.” She set a bottle of tequila next to the blender.
“You have no idea how much I’d like a drink.”
Joslyn waved towards the living room area. “The couch is brand new and so much more comfortable than that thing you’re sitting on.” Joslyn grimaced at the bar stool. ““Go relax and I’ll be over in a second. Then maybe we can get some girl talk in before Terry gets home.”
Girl talk.
Victoria didn’t even know whether she could feign excitement for that one. But relaxing on a nice soft sofa didn’t seem like a bad way to end the night. Especially with a margarita in hand.
She slid her jacket off as she sat down and set it over her lap as a pseudo blanket. The blender turned on and the whirring filled the apartment. Victoria checked her phone again, but still nothing.
Good grief, she couldn’t remember the last time she couldn’t get signal in the city.
The blender stopped, but Joslyn was still fiddling with God knew what in the kitchen. Boredom seeped in…Victoria couldn’t remember the last time she just sat and did nothing.
She leaned forward to look at the magazines on the coffee table, but it was all junk mail advertisements that came to every apartment in the building. She was about to lean back into the couch when something caught her eye. The mail didn’t have Terry or Joslyn’s name on it.
They were addressed to C. Jones.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jace Lance eyed the street, looking for anything possibly suspicious. So far there was a lot of nothing, but that was hardly surprising.
Not that the surveillance was boring. In fact, the very reason that New York City was his favorite place to work was because there was never a boring moment. Now, surveillance in a jungle, watching an empty safe house on the off chance a drug lord would show up—that was boring.
But in order to be effective, he needed to look at each person, assess them for backstory, skills, and possible threats.
And the perks of working with heiresses weren’t too bad. Good food. Good pay. Bad hours. It would do for now.
His cell rang and Gordon showed up on the caller ID. “Jace here.”
“I need to get a hold of Victoria. Where is she?”
“She’s having dinner with her brother. She
requested
I stay downstairs to offer her privacy.” Jace had a feeling Gordon knew exactly how persuasive a request from the CEO could be.
“Shit. You need to get up there. Her future sister-in-law is behind everything. She was the one who wired the funds to the North Carolina attacker. Her brother might be involved too.”
“On it.” Jace hung up the phone and jumped out of the car, feeling inside his jacket for the comforting presence of his sidearm. As subtly as possible while he crossed the street, he flipped the safety off.
The doorman eyed him as he approached and Jace knew he wouldn’t get in the building as easily as Victoria.
“How can I help you, sir?” asked the burly older man.
Even though he was older, Jace was on high alert. The bulk beneath his uniform told Jace that he was stronger than his scruffy beard gave away. “I’m here for Victoria Green. She was having dinner with one of your tenants. Either allow me up or call the apartment, please.””
The man nodded. “I’ll call her right away, sir.” He opened the door. “Come on in.”
He really wanted to get upstairs, but knew in a building like this, security was tight. The doorman came in behind Jace and motioned for him to follow through a lobby decorated in rich reds and golds with a small sitting area. The doorman picked up a phone and pressed a button.
“A young man is here for Ms. Green.” After a pause, he continued, “Okay, I will tell him to wait.”
By the time the doorman turned around, Jace had his gun drawn and pointed at the man. “Who are you?”
The doorman held up his hands, his eyes wide. “Whoa, man. She’s coming right down.”
Jace shook his head. “No, she isn’t. You didn’t call an apartment. You told someone I was here. How many of you are there?””
Jace didn’t hear a sound, but the doorman’s eyes gave the other attacker away. Jace swung around and slammed the second man in the face with the butt of the gun. The “doorman”” jumped on his back, wrapped a meaty arm around his neck and cut off his air. Jace shoved backwards and rammed the man into the edge of the desk.
Just as the man’s grip loosened, something hard and cold slammed into the side of Jace’s head.