The Alpha Billionaire Club Trilogy (50 page)

I
woke
the next morning to faint light leaking in through the drawn curtains. Awareness hit me all at once. It was earlier than I usually woke, and I lay there staring at the ceiling for a moment when Axel's phone buzzed, and I realized an incoming text had pulled me from sleep. I shifted under the covers, and Axel's arm tightened around my waist. He squeezed me close before releasing me to roll over and grab his phone off the nightstand. Settling back beside me, he held up the phone and checked the screen. Curious, I sneaked a quick glance. My breath froze in my lungs when I saw the message.

Been calling your office. They say you're on a case, but we need to talk. I have a job for you.

It was from William Harper. I didn't have to guess what the job would be.
Me.
Harper hadn't had any luck finding me on his own because Axel was protecting me. The irony of him trying to hire Axel to find me would have been amusing if the whole situation didn't scare the shit out of me.

"What are you going to say?" I whispered, my words so quiet that I barely heard them myself. Axel raised his eyebrows, then he said in a louder tone than my own, “Take the meeting."

"What?" I asked, no longer worried about whispering. If Axel needed me to be quiet again, I was sure he'd let me know. "What do you mean, take the meeting?"

I didn't want to doubt Axel. I’d spent enough time doubting him, and he’d more than proven that I could trust him. Hadn't he? But this meeting with William Harper—I didn't like it. I knew what Harper wanted, and until he was in jail, I'd never feel truly safe.

Axel's sharp eyes studied my face before he answered me. "It's the best way to find out what he wants," he said. "As soon as we're up and dressed, I'll call Tierney and see what he thinks. I'm sure he's going to want me to take the meeting. Maybe this time, we can get a taped confession we can use."

"And if he tries to hire you to find me and bring me in?"

"Then I'll take the job," Axel said, sounding surprised that I would ask.

"What?" I screeched, the part of my brain capable of higher reasoning drowned out by my instinctive denial of Axel's words. I sat up and started to get out of the bed. Axel grabbed me and pulled me back down, rolling until he was on top of me, holding me still with his weight.

"Relax, Emma. This will be the first time in the history of my career that I'll take a job I have no intention of doing. I'm trying to keep you safe. Harper is still after you, and he thinks I'm on his side, or at least willing to work for him. If I can find out where he stands and what's really going on, it's worth taking the meeting."

"What if it's a trap?" I asked, fear for Axel’s safety overcoming fear for myself. "What if he knows we’re together, and he's calling you to flush you out?"

“It’s a possibility,” he said. “We don't know who the mole is or who they're reporting to. My gut tells me it's not William Harper. I don't see him having the brains to infiltrate the FBI."

“Or your office," I said, reminding him of the other possibility. As I expected he would, he gave a sharp shake of his head.

"The leak is not in my office."

“We don't know that," I reminded him. "Until we find the mole, we won't know for sure if it's on your side or Agent Tierney's."

Axel didn't respond. He knew his team better than I did, but everything was too uncertain for me to trust a bunch of people I didn't know. Until we figured out who the mole was, I was willing to suspect everyone.

"If it is a trap, how are you going to protect yourself?” I asked.

"Emma, you have to trust me. I know what I'm doing. William Harper is not going to put one over on me, I promise you." It rankled that I didn't have a choice
but
to trust him. I wanted to believe in him. I did, mostly. I believed Axel wouldn't do anything he knew would put me in danger.

I still didn't like the idea of him leaving me here with the two FBI agents while he went off to meet with William Harper to talk about finding me so that William Harper could sell me into slavery. Or maybe he and Tsepov were done with that plan and they just wanted to find me so they could kill me. As Axel had pointed out, killing me was the most efficient way to deal with me.

In a lower tone than he'd used before, Axel said, "I also need to see if I can get my hands on your laptop."

I thought it was weird that everyone was so focused on my laptop. We didn't need it since Summer had all the evidence I'd stored on the hard drive, plus what I’d gathered earlier in the investigation.

“Get up, sweetheart. I'm going to call Tierney and Evers while you get ready."

“Why Evers?" I asked.

"You think I'm going to leave you here with only the FBI for protection?" Axel asked, shaking his head. "There is a very short list of people I trust with your life, Emma Wright. My brother is one of them. I wouldn't meet with Harper if I didn't think it was the right move, but I'm not leaving you open while I do it."

“Agent Tierney isn't going to like that," I said.

"I don't give a fuck what Agent Tierney likes," Axel said. "Go ahead and take the bathroom first while I get things rolling."

I did as he said, wondering if he really wanted me to get dressed first, or if he just wanted me out of the room while he made his phone calls. Trying not to be so suspicious, I went to the small, ugly bathroom to do what I could to get ready to face the day, wishing we’d been able to bring all the lovely things Lola had chosen for me. Instead, I'd be getting ready—again—in the clothes I'd worn the day before, with no makeup, not even a hairbrush.

When I got out of the bathroom, Axel was sitting on the edge of the bed, his phone to his ear, murmuring into it in a low voice. I couldn't catch what he was saying, just that he seemed to be agreeing with whoever was on the other end. He looked up and smiled when he saw me.

“Tierney will be here any minute," he said. Standing up, he crossed the room to me and pulled me into his arms, kissing me slowly, his hands reaching down to squeeze my ass. The contrast between the sweet kiss and the grope made me giggle, shaking me out of my worry for just a second.

“Wait for me before you go downstairs," he said and disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the water turn on, then off again, in what had to be the fastest shower in creation. Axel emerged from the bathroom a minute later, his short dark hair still dripping, a towel tied around his waist. For just a second, I imagined forgetting everything we had to deal with and tearing off the towel. There wasn't time. Even if we could be quick enough, getting my hands all over that lean, muscled body would have to wait.

When this was over, we needed to go on a vacation, just the two of us, somewhere we could be mostly naked all the time. I stared, completely unashamed, as Axel dropped the towel and pulled on his clothes. His suit from dinner the night before was a little rumpled, but it still looked great. My black shirt-dress? Not so much. Again, I wished for my new wardrobe, which was hanging in Axel's closet at his penthouse. Taking my hand, Axel led me to the door of the bedroom and down the stairs, where the scent of stale coffee lingered in the air.

Two agents greeted us—not the same as those I'd met the night before. There must have been a shift change while we'd been asleep. Axel stopped in front of them, held out his hand, and said, “I.D.”

I got the impression that they knew whom they were dealing with, because they didn't argue. They just produced their FBI identification and gave it to Axel, who opened his phone and dialed. He double checked their information and, when he was satisfied the agents were who they claimed to be, he returned their identification and said, “We’re going to be having a visitor shortly—my brother, Evers Sinclair."

Identical expressions of alarm bloomed on the agents’ faces. Like the agents from the night before, these two looked fresh out of the Academy and uncomfortable with their assignment. The older of the two protested, “You can't invite people to a safe house, Mr. Sinclair. Agent Tierney—"

"I spoke with Agent Tierney already," Axel said, unruffled by the agent’s protest. “He’s on his way. He’ll be here in the next ten minutes, probably before Evers. You can speak to him about it then, or feel free to call him now."

Axel ignored the agents after that, making us fresh coffee and toast for breakfast with the meager supplies in the kitchen. The two young agents huddled near the front door, murmuring to each other, giving up on the pretense of patrolling the house. They watched us, clearly put off by Axel's command of the situation, while we pretended they weren't there.

Axel seemed unconcerned, but I couldn't get comfortable while two strangers were watching me eat toast and whispering about me. I was relieved when the door opened less than ten minutes later and Agent Tierney entered.

The older of the two FBI agents he’d left on duty immediately started forward. Like a child eager to tattle, he burst into speech. "Mr. Sinclair said that he invited a visitor, Sir, but I assure you—”

Tierney waved his hand and interrupted, “It's fine, Agent Read." He sent a glare at Axel, one Axel ignored, and went on, “Evers Sinclair is cleared to visit. Against my better judgment, but—”

Axel cut him off. "If you want me to be your inside man with Harper, you'll let Evers watch over Emma. No Evers, no meeting with Harper."

Agent Tierney rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen, helping himself to a cup of the coffee we'd made. "We already had this conversation, Sinclair. I think you’re being overly cautious. My agents and I are perfectly capable of protecting Emma. But if the only way I can get you to assist on the case is to let your brother in, I'll do it."

Axel shrugged as if saying he already knew this and he didn't need to be reminded. Tierney sent him another glare, one that faded from his eyes the second it looked like Axel might notice. I found it interesting that while Agent Tierney liked to be in charge, he didn't seem comfortable bucking Axel’s natural authority. Despite his threats of arresting Axel the night before, Agent Tierney didn't seem inclined to push Axel very far.

Before the two agents guarding us could relax, a quick triple rap sounded on the front door. Agent Tierney snapped to attention, and I sat straighter in my own seat, hoping it was Evers at the door and afraid that it wasn't. But who else would knock? Axel answered the door himself, waving the agents back. He checked the door from a window in the dining room and then flipped back the deadbolt.

Evers entered, muttering something about Axel taking his time. He shouldered the door open, his hands filled with bags. I spotted several grocery bags, as well as two duffel bags. Looking at me, Evers held up the hand with the duffel bags and said, "I brought some of your things from Axel's place. Figured you might want to change out of your clothes from last night."

Oh, did I. I took the duffel from Evers's hand and headed for the stairs. Then something occurred to me and I turned around. Looking at Axel, I said, “Don't leave until I get back."

He reached out and hugged me to him, laying a quick kiss on the tip of my nose. "I haven't even set the meeting with Harper yet. I was waiting for Evers to get here. I won't go anywhere until you come back down, okay?"

"Thank you," I said and left the men downstairs while I went to change.

It didn't take me very long to trade my cocktail dress for a pair of fine wale, navy blue cords and another lightweight sweater, this one in dark green with a pretty shawl collar and embroidered sleeves. Being a guy, Evers hadn't done a spectacular job of packing my makeup and hair stuff, but he'd gotten enough of it that I was able to get myself together.

I wasn't gone that long, but when I came back downstairs, Axel was on his feet and looked ready to leave. He came toward me as soon as I hit the bottom step.

"I'm heading out," he said. "Evers will be here until I get back. He tells you to do something, do it, understand?”

I nodded. Axel was careful to be neutral toward the three FBI agents, but I knew him well enough to see clearly that the only person in the room whom he trusted was his brother. “Be careful," I said, smoothing his tie. Evers must have brought him a change of clothes as well, because he’d traded the steel gray suit for one in a dark charcoal with almost imperceptible pin-stripes.

"I will,” he said. “I promise."

I stepped back, prepared to let him go, knowing I had to trust him. He had one meeting and then he'd be back. I could hang on until then.

I
could think
of a long list of things I'd rather be doing than having another meeting with William Harper. I've never had a problem playing a part. I’d had to do it often enough for different cases, and I'd always found it easy at worst and entertaining at best.

Pretending not to care what William Harper wanted with Emma was going to be a different story. After a tense negotiation with Tierney, we determined that I had two goals. The first was to get William Harper to confess to as many of his crimes as possible while I was wearing a wire. Evers had brought our equipment with him. I’d refused to let Agent Tierney wire me himself. Until I figured out who was betraying us, I wasn't trusting anyone. My second objective was to try to get Emma's laptop back from Harper. I didn't think we'd have much luck with that, but I’d prepared a scenario that might work. Harper's response to my proposal would tell me a lot about where he stood.

It didn't take me long to reach Harper’s exclusive subdivision. He met me at the door, looking like a shadow of the man I'd seen the night I delivered Emma. Then, William Harper had been giddily triumphant. Now, he was pale and agitated, his eyes darting from side to side as he opened the door and let me in.

He closed it behind me more firmly than necessary, locking the door and setting the alarm. I followed him down the hall to his office. He gestured at one of the heavy seats opposite his desk before sitting down himself. I sat, wondering if this was the chair he’d used to restrain Emma. The thought sent a flood of raw, aggressive rage through me.

I had to lock it down and push all thoughts of Emma as my girlfriend, my lover, out of my mind. If I wanted her safe, I had to do my job, and at that moment, my job was to get this fuckwit talking, not to beat the shit out of him for hurting Emma. Already wanting to leave, I decided to skip the formalities and get the ball rolling.

“What can I do for you today, Mr. Harper?”

Harper shifted nervously in his seat. "It's odd, but I ran into a problem after you left the other night. Emma—Miss Wright—she got away."

I decided to fuck with him just a little. "What do you mean,
she got away
? I thought you planned to call the police?"

"Yes, well, no. I decided I didn't want the publicity. I called a partner in to take her off my hands, you know, just to scare her a little, and, well, before he could get here, she got away."

"She was wearing handcuffs," I said, enjoying his discomfort a little too much. "Did you uncuff her?"

"No, no, but…" he trailed off, probably trying to figure out how to explain what had happened without making himself look bad. "Apparently, a neighbor said they heard a scream. They called the police, and when the officer found her handcuffed, well, he took her with him."

"But you have the evidence, right? You still have her laptop, don't you?" I asked.

"I do, I do," he said. "But I needed to talk to her and find out if she’d done anything else, talked to anyone else. I have associates, and they're not comfortable with only the laptop. They—we—need to know more. We need to know everything she was up to. Who knows if what's on that laptop is the extent of her thievery? I need you to find her and bring her to me."

I resettled myself in my seat and studied him, watching him squirm under my level stare. “What are your plans if I find her and bring her back to you?" I asked. Harper looked away, but he didn’t answer. "Let's be honest with each other," I said, taking a risk that I could push him a little further. “You never intended to call the police on Emma, did you?"

Harper let out a gust of air as if he'd been holding his breath and got up from behind his desk. He crossed the room to pour himself a glass of whiskey from his bar. He held the crystal decanter up, offering me a drink. I shook my head. The amount of whiskey Harper poured into the glass indicated that he was even more anxious and uncertain than I’d guessed.

He swallowed almost all of the whiskey in one gulp. Good. Once the alcohol hit his brain, he’d be less careful of what he said. I settled back in my seat and stretched my legs out in front of me, prepared to take a little time while the alcohol did my work for me.

“Have you had a chance to take a look at the laptop?" I asked casually.

Harper gave a jerky shrug of one shoulder. "It's in my safe, but no, not yet. I already know what's on it, anyway."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked. "Can you get into it on your own? She encrypted everything worth seeing,” I commented, enjoying the way Harper's eyes flared in alarm.

“I didn't realize she would know how to do that," he said.

"Emma Wright was full of surprises," I said. "I can get into the laptop for you, if you need me to," I offered, hoping he would take the bait. He didn't.

"No, that's not necessary. I'm just going to destroy it."

“So you don't want to know what she took?" I asked.

"I already know what she took," Harper said, and then continued cryptically, "it's more important that no one else knows what she took."

At first, his comment made no sense. Harper finished off the whiskey in his glass and went back for more while I sat in silence, letting his words filter through my brain.

If Harper was going to destroy the laptop, then it wasn’t enough to have stopped it from getting to the FBI. Harper didn't want the FBI to have the information Emma had taken, but he also didn’t want anyone else to know what was on the laptop either.

As soon as we got them, I needed to go through the files Emma had sent to her friend. Harper hadn't come straight out and admitted much yet, but my guess was that the laptop didn't just contain evidence against Harper. It contained evidence that tied Harper to Tsepov. For Harper, the only thing more terrifying than the FBI getting that evidence would be Tsepov knowing it existed in the first place.

Evers had been right the day before. Tsepov did not have a forgiving reputation. I'd run into him in the past, and I knew he didn't tolerate incompetence in his employees or his associates. If he found out that William Harper had collected hard evidence tying them together, Harper was a dead man.

He must have thought his problems were solved when he had both Emma and the laptop, but with Emma running around loose, he was at risk again. Judging by his slightly unsteady gait as he made his way back to his desk with a fresh whiskey, I decided to push a little harder. "Do you want me to find Emma and bring her back?"

“Yes. I need you to find Emma Wright and bring her to me so I can question her."

"I'd be happy to assist you with the questioning," I offered. "I and most of my team are well trained in interrogation. We’ll probably be able to get more out of her than you could on your own."

“No, no. I can handle it. My . . . associate . . . will be able to get all the information that we need."

"And after you get the information you need?” I asked. “Will you need help dealing with Miss Wright when you’re finished with her?” I wasn’t sure he was drunk enough to take the bait, but the whiskey had done its work, and this time, he was.

“No, my associate will handle that. I can't have Miss Wright becoming a problem in the future."

"I completely understand," I said, my gut burning at the casual threat against Emma's life. “I’d feel more comfortable delivering the woman to you if I had some idea exactly whom I was dealing with. Who are your associates?"

Harper finished the rest of his second whiskey and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes darting everywhere to avoid meeting mine.

"I don't know,” he said haltingly. “I don't think . . . that is . . ."

"Harper,” I interrupted, “Stop bullshitting me. Something you should know about me is that I don't ask questions to which I don't already know the answer. I know you're working with Sergey Tsepov."

The blood drained from William Harper's face as I said Tsepov's name out loud, as if by speaking his name I could conjure him from thin air. Harper’s eyes darted around the room once more, his hand trembling where it rested on the desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he protested in a weak voice. I sat back in my chair and propped my ankle on my knee. Now that I had him scared, I could get him to talk.

"If you're not going to be straight with me, I don't have time for this,” I said. “I’m not exactly desperate for the work, you know. I've had dealings with Tsepov before. I don't fuck around with him, so I need to know exactly what the situation is and what I'm dealing with before we go any further. If you won’t talk, you're going to have to deal with Miss Wright on your own."

I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for Harper to break. It didn't take long. It was becoming clear that he needed to get Emma under his control before Tsepov lost patience with him, and without any resources of his own to accomplish this, he was desperate for my help.

“I . . . I am working with Sergey Tsepov, it's true. He, uh, contracts me to move . . . certain things," Harper said. He was weighing his words carefully, but the whiskey made his efforts useless. He’d just admitted to moving shipments for a known mob boss. Now I’d see if I could get him to admit what the shipments were.

"Tsepov's crew is known to deal in a lot of shit, Harper. What have you got your fingers in? Guns? Drugs? Women? Or all of it?"

Harper's back went straight at the direct question. He shook his head wildly, his thinning hair swaying with his jerky movements.

"I'm not . . . that is . . .” he stammered, not willing to give me an answer.

"There are things I'll touch, Harper,” I said in a hard voice, “and things I won't. What are you into with Tsepov? Tell me or I walk."

"All of it," Harper said, defeated. "Okay? All of it. I put my notes in a file in my desk so I could keep it all straight, and Emma stole the file for the FBI. You got it before they did, I think. I hope. I don't know exactly when she took it . . .”

Harper trailed off. I'd have to go back through the documentation once we got it from Emma's friend, but I was fairly sure that any hard copies had already been turned over to the FBI. The files I'd caught Emma with a few days before—it seemed like a lifetime ago—had all been digital.

Not letting Harper know he was screwed, I pressed further.

“And Emma Wright? You lost her, but she's not coming back to work, I assume."

Harper shook his head back and forth, his bloodshot eyes now fixed to the polished surface of his desk. I went on, “We got the files she was going to give to the FBI, so why do you need her?"

“She knows too much,” Harper said, not taking his eyes from the desk. “She just knows too much. She has to go. I was going to give her to Tsepov to sell with the other girls, but now . . ." He trailed off.

"Why don't you just have Tsepov take care of the problem for you?” I asked, thinking about the shooter the night before. My guys had caught him and they had him in our safe room, but he wasn't talking. I doubted he was someone Harper had hired, because if Harper had those connections, he wouldn’t have needed me to find Emma.

Harper was shaking his head. "No, no. I can't tell him yet. If he knows I fucked up like this . . . he can't find out."

This whole situation was one big clusterfuck. Someone had sent the shooter after Emma, and it hadn’t been Harper. Harper thought he still had time to get Emma, and he didn't know where she was. The only other person I could think of who would want Emma dead was Tsepov. Which meant the mole was working for him. I had work to do.

Harper had admitted more than enough for the FBI to use against him. I was done with him. Abruptly, I stood and said, “I’ll take the job. I'll keep you posted on my progress. It shouldn't take me long to find her.”

Harper didn't stand to show me to the door. He just gave me a weak smile and said, “Thank you."

I let myself out, climbed into my SUV, and called the office. Jamison picked up in the control room. "Got it, Boss."

“Good job. Get it backed up and send a copy to Agent Tierney. I’ll be there in ten.”

"I'm on it, Boss."

I drove back to the office. Tierney expected me at the safe house as soon as I was finished with Harper, but I had a few things to take care of first. Harper was neutralized, between his hiring me to find Emma and admitting his guilt on record. He didn’t have the resources to cause us any more trouble. But somewhere out there was Tsepov’s mole. I had a feeling we’d have to take the investigation away from the FBI if we wanted to stay alive. Since the FBI currently had Emma, I had to make some arrangements.