Gunning for the Groom (3 page)

“Cyber or personal?” Aidan inquired.

“Both, if I understand the setup,” Frankie answered. “She and her business partner built it on the backs of their government careers.” Regretting her burst of bitterness, she plowed on. “Once I'm out there, I thought I'd worm my way past her defenses. With your agency working this behind the scenes and me working on-site, I'm sure we can get to the truth quickly.”

“Frankie.” Victoria leaned back in her chair, her reading glasses in her hands. “Going out there with the intent to deceive your mother is a terrible risk.”

Frankie paused, studying her. “I've worked undercover before.” She couldn't afford to think of this as anything other than a mission. If her mother could ignore the bonds of family, so could she.

“That's not what I mean. Please, sit down.”

Reluctantly, Frankie returned to her chair. She didn't want to endure a lecture on discretion or family unity in front of Aidan, but it seemed Victoria wasn't giving her a choice.

“Since I clearly can't stop you from going, I'm sending Aidan with you.”

“Pardon me?” Having braced for the lecture, Frankie needed a moment to digest the actual statement. “That's not necessary.” She shot a quick look in Aidan's direction. “Can't he research the passports and documents from here?”

“I want him on-site,” Victoria said. “You shouldn't be out there alone.”

“I'll keep you updated—” Frankie began.

“I know you will,” she interrupted. “That isn't the point. I refuse to take any chances with your safety.” She turned to her computer monitor, and her hands rattled on her keyboard for a moment. Then she met Frankie's gaze with a thoughtful expression. “Assuming your mother's statement is legitimate, your search will likely lead to someone better prepared to retaliate than offer up a confession.”

Yes, Frankie was angry and she was hurt. That didn't make her a fool. “I've considered that and taken precautions.” She didn't want or need a babysitter. The fewer witnesses to her family embarrassments, the better.

“Good,” Victoria replied.

“You know I can protect myself.”

“This isn't up for debate, Frankie. I've known you since you were a child. You'll give your mom a call and let her know you're coming out for a visit. We'll get Aidan an interview with your mother's company by Monday afternoon.” She held up a hand when Frankie started to protest again. “I'm sure he'll be hired. As former Interpol, he knows his way around security and covert operations. Once the details are settled, the two of you can work together.”

Call her mom?
She wasn't a teenager caught smoking in the girls' room. Her mother wouldn't believe Frankie suddenly had an urge for mother-daughter bonding time, and Frankie wanted the element of surprise. “That's not—”

Victoria cut her off. “I
insist
that you have someone watching your back.” Standing, she came around the desk and pulled Frankie to her feet for another hug. When she let go, her eyes were misty. “Legal debacles and strained relationships aside, try to focus on the things your parents did right. They gave you their love and affection through a wonderful childhood. Both of them raised a strong, independent woman.”

Frankie did her best to muster a smile as the grief sliced through her. She'd questioned every nuance of her life lately, wondering what to believe about her parents and how that impacted her view of herself. Cornerstones of her upbringing seemed little more than loose theories in light of recent events. “I'll be careful,” she repeated, not wanting to lie to Victoria.

“I hope your mother helps you find what you're after.” The woman's smile was sad. “Would you like us to stay while you make the call?”

Frankie hesitated, but only for a moment. If this investigator would be trailing her around Seattle, he might as well get a taste of what he was in for. He'd be combing through her family's secrets soon enough.

* * *

A
IDAN
DID
HIS
best impersonation of an invisible man while Frankie spoke briefly with her mother. It was clear she wasn't happy about Victoria's insistence on the task, but his boss was difficult to outmaneuver. Her voice cool and her face pale, Frankie managed a polite exchange, excusing herself from the office the moment it was over.

“The woman's a spitfire,” he observed, closing the door behind her. He admired her grit. Not to mention her lush sable hair, expressive dark eyes and that generous mouth. Even without the surname Leone tipping him off, her perfect posture implied a military background. Although with those cheekbones and long limbs, she could've passed as a model. If she wasn't a new client, he might have asked her out for a drink. “I'm to get myself hired and then what?”

“Find a way to stay close to her. If the documents are real, she'll be a target as soon as the person pulling the strings learns she found them. I want you there. You're the best at unraveling knots like this one.”

That was Victoria's way of saying she suspected fraud, his primary focus during his time with Interpol. “Do I report to you only?” The freedom and case variation were nice, though his favorite part of being a Colby investigator was the concise chain of command.

“Yes, please. I don't care for the way she was led to what she considers proof positive her mother willfully ended her father's career. The only thing I believe about the man who dropped this in her lap is that digging for the truth could get her hurt. Or worse.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Aidan waited for the other shoe to drop.

“General Leone was an excellent strategist,” Victoria said, almost to herself. “Frankie takes after him. She's smart and highly skilled, but I'm afraid she's rejecting the most logical explanation. It's understandable under the circumstances. I'm sure you heard the temper and need for vengeance in her voice.”

He bobbed his chin. “Hard to miss.”

“Please tread lightly,” Victoria continued. “As you meet Sophia Leone and work out the details with Frankie, keep an open mind. You might be the only one who can.”

“Of course.” At least in this case he wasn't at the center of the storm battering the family. There was a great deal of comfort in that.

“I'll send you her file for review,” Victoria said, leaning back against her desk. “The most pertinent fact is Frankie's service as a cultural liaison with the navy SEALs.”

That gave Aidan pause. Though it was the only post women could fill on those operations, very few had the tenacity and fortitude to do so. “She looks a little young to have hit her twenty years already.”

“She suffered a serious injury while her team was in a convoy that left her paralyzed for a time. Inconveniently, her recovery coincided with her father's problems. Surgery and months of rehab got her walking again, but the navy retired her for medical reasons.”

That explained some of the anger, Aidan thought. He knew firsthand it was never easy to relinquish control when life dealt out an unexpected detour.

“She claims she's fit,” Victoria added, “but I'm not entirely convinced.”

“Duly noted,” Aidan said. Healthy and able-bodied weren't the same as fit for service. If this case turned into a danger zone, he'd offer protection first and apologize for any insult later.

“Expect her to try to shake you.”

He'd already reached the same assumption. “Do you think she'll blow my cover?”

“No. She wants the truth too much to take that chance. That doesn't mean she'll cooperate with you.”

“She's not my first challenging case,” he reminded his boss.

Victoria blessed him with an amused smile. “I was right to call you in on this one.”

“I'll see her safely through whatever happens,” he promised.

“Thank you. It's the least I owe her parents.”

A firm knock sounded on the door and Victoria signaled for him to open it. He did, finding Frankie on the other side, her dark eyes sparking with impatience. She marched right past him to confront Victoria. “Your receptionist tells me she's booking us on a flight to Seattle tomorrow.”

Aidan took a position that gave him the best view of the inevitable fireworks.

“That's right,” Victoria said. “I'm not taking any chances, and you told me you didn't want to waste any more time.”

“I need to go home first,” Frankie replied. “I'll travel from there.”

Victoria folded her arms across her chest. “Do you think your mother hasn't kept tabs on you? Traveling from Savannah gains you nothing. Sophia and I are friends. She might very well call me for advice about
you
. We've both had challenges with children.”

Frankie didn't cooperate with the clear dismissal. “That's not it,” she protested.

Victoria tapped her reading glasses against her palm. “Are you having second thoughts?”

Brick, meet wall
, Aidan thought, watching the two women.

“No.”

The internal battle Frankie was obviously waging dragged out for another long minute. She still didn't explain herself. Aidan caught Victoria's eye. “Frankie.” He waited for her to turn his way. “Any gear you might want you can borrow from us. I'll show you the way.”

Behind Frankie, he caught Victoria's relieved expression when the younger woman finally agreed, slinging her backpack over one shoulder and retrieving her suitcase. When they were alone in the elevator, he felt a modicum of tension ease. He asked what she expected to find in Seattle.

“I'm trying not to expect much of anything,” she answered.

“That limits the potential disappointment.” He'd walked through life a long while with that mind-set. “And the potential happiness.”

She sighed, her hand flexing on the strap of her backpack. “I know I must sound like an overgrown toddler on the verge of a tantrum.”

That wasn't what he saw at all. He saw a woman in pain, confused and wary. “I don't know enough about your situation to have an opinion.”

She looked up at him and laughed, the startled, bright sound bouncing around the elevator car and spilling out as the doors parted. “Oh, you have an opinion,” she said. “Maybe I'll ask for it later.”

He didn't want to be fascinated by this new client with a huge chip on her shoulder, yet he couldn't quite stop himself. She exuded stubbornness, and he couldn't imagine what kind of strength required to overcome her injuries.

As an investigator, he was naturally curious about all the things she hadn't said, but it certainly didn't help his concentration that she made such an art form out of walking.

Chapter Four

Aidan watched Frankie carefully choose a laptop and a cell phone to back up the devices she'd brought along. Together they decided on surveillance gear, both visual and audible, proving she understood the tech. He nearly laughed out loud, thinking he'd met the perfect woman. It was a relief that he couldn't act on the undercurrent of attraction teasing his senses. He was more than capable of working with beautiful women as partners and clients, and he'd sworn off ever bridging the gap between business and personal again.

As she examined some newer button cameras, he picked up a surveillance-signal jammer. When they moved toward the available weapons, he selected a 9 mm semiautomatic and a .22 revolver as backup, along with ammunition. Frankie shied away from all of them.

“No?” How was it possible an American with her background didn't carry a gun?

She shook her head, her pretty eyes clouded with something he couldn't quite label. “I prefer knives.”

Knives?
Was that some strange holdover from her navy days? “You brought knives? We're flying commercial.”

“It'll be okay,” she replied confidently. “I flew commercial to get here.”

“Can I see them?”

She arched one dark eyebrow before consenting to rest her backpack on the table. “If you can find them.” She stepped back, crossed her arms and waited.

He searched the main compartments, but other than her laptop, phone and a variety of other personal items, he found only her multipurpose tool and a digital camera no bigger than his palm. He patted every inch of the material, searching for a blade in a hidden pocket, until he finally admitted defeat.

With a shake of her head, she unzipped the main pocket once more and reached to the bottom. Then he heard the distinctive tear of a hook-and-loop pouch opening. A moment later, she revealed a black clip point, fixed-blade knife.

“That doesn't look like standard navy issue,” he said.

She shrugged, a gleam of pride shining in her eyes. “It's what I carried when we deployed.”

Any doubts he'd had about her military pedigree evaporated. “Won't do you much good in a gunfight,” he pointed out.

With another hitch of her shoulders, she tucked it out of sight. “Haven't you heard? I'm not heading to a gunfight. I'm heading for a happy reunion with my mom.”

She didn't sound the least bit happy.

“Why do you prefer a knife over a gun?” Aidan asked.

“It's easier to get through airport security. Easier to conceal no matter what I'm wearing. And I don't need a permit.”

Considering the lethal-looking blade, he wasn't so sure he could agree with any of her reasons. “How
did
you get it through security?”

“The pocket is a double layer of ballistic fabric. Unless they know where to look and how to open it, it's invisible to a security scan.”

“Nice trick,” he admitted.

“How do you get the guns through?”

“Registrations and permits in checked baggage. The private investigator license helps, too,” he added as he gathered up the gear. “How do you think your mom will react when you're on her doorstep?”

“I'm not sure.” Frankie looked at a small button camera on the end of a pen. “At least we have gadgets and tools on our side. It feels like a spy movie set in here.”

He laughed. He'd thought the same thing when he first arrived. “Victoria keeps us well equipped. She has a reputation as the best.”

“That she does,” Frankie said quietly. “You knew of it even at Interpol?”

“Yes.” He could practically see the wheels turning inside her head. She'd been more than uncomfortable at the end of the meeting, pushing against Victoria's control of the investigation. He should've seen it earlier. Frankie had felt cornered and outnumbered, possibly even betrayed. She'd done what was necessary to get through it and out of the office, retreating but not relinquishing anything just yet. It made her a hazard—to both of them.

“You can trust her,” he said, knowing he'd hit the mark when her gaze snapped to his. “And me, by extension.”

“Sure.” She looked around, studying everything but him. “Are we done here?”

“Pretty much.” He checked his phone. “Flight reservations are booked. We're on a midmorning flight.”

“Not the early one?” She reached for her own cell phone even as she leaned to look over his shoulder.

When she was this close, the ginger and clove scents of her hair teased his senses. He ignored the enticing aroma, the way it slid over and around him, in favor of keeping her talking. “Please tell me you're not a crack-of-dawn type of person,” he said with exaggerated fear.

Her eyebrows puckered. “Why do you care? It's not as though we'll be living together.” Then her mouth formed a perfect circle. “Oh. Victoria's orders?” She flicked those away with a twitch of her fingers. “Don't worry about playing bodyguard. I can handle myself. As long as we find time and space to check in regularly about the case, you won't have to follow me around.”

It was far too early to throw himself on that conversational grenade. “Are you up for a review of the situation before we call it a night?”

“Sure.” The tight curve of her lips hardly qualified as a smile. “It will give us more time on-site to scope out the area before we knock on her door.”

He couldn't argue with Frankie's work ethic. “We can talk in the conference room.”

“Great.” Her smile carried little enthusiasm.

He wondered how her face and eyes might get in on the action if she ever smiled sincerely. Her outward calm didn't quite cover all the anger lurking underneath. He wanted a look at the evidence so he could gain some insight and perspective. Until he had a better grasp of the situation, her tension made him edgy, as well. Too bad he couldn't blame it all on mutual attraction, but that seemed to be entirely his problem. If she noticed him as anything other than an interloper, she hid it well.

“I'd like to learn all I can so I'm prepared to recon your happy reunion, and know the right words for my interview on Monday.”

With a small nod, she trailed him to the elevator, her suitcase rolling along behind them. When the lift arrived, they stepped inside and he punched the button for the conference room. They decided on a pizza from a little place down the street, and he set about searching through what she knew and what she thought she knew about her mom.

An aerial view of Sophia's neighborhood and the surrounding blocks filled one of the computer monitors. “When you meet with your mother, I'll watch the house from right here,” he said, pointing to a corner he'd highlighted.

“Are you worried I'll do something stupid?” Frankie gave him a long look.

He stared right back. “Are you planning on doing something stupid?”

She tilted her head to the side, stretching and massaging the long column of her neck. “Of course not.”

Did she know she was irresistible? “Here.” He stepped behind her. “Let me.”

She shifted out of his reach. “No, thanks.”

“No problem.” He held his hands up in surrender. Though he was tempted to fib and tell her he was a certified massage therapist, he didn't want to give her any reason to doubt his word. In the short time they'd been acquainted, her trust issues were abundantly clear.

“It's just from the plane,” she said defensively. “I tweaked it when I dozed off.”

“It happens.” He kept his smile easy, his stance casual. “If you change your mind, I've picked up a trick or two from my massage therapist sister.” That was the truth.

“Rain check.” Frankie looked back at the overhead images of the neighborhood. “If you're going to watch the first meeting, I assume you'll want me wired for sound, too?”

He was glad she'd been the one to suggest it. “If you agree, we could analyze the conversation afterward for any slips or stresses she makes.”

“She won't slip up. Sophia Leone is too slick, too careful.”

Aidan thought it was possible the apple hadn't fallen far from the Leone family tree. Frankie appeared to be an extremely cautious woman, as well. Whether it was nature or circumstance, he could honor that trait, respect it. He needed to earn her trust quickly, for everyone's benefit. “Once you're reunited, you'll have better personal access, and I can be looking for anything within the company records, associates or systems that implicate her or clear her of wrongdoing.”

Frankie nodded, but he knew her mind was working overtime on something she wasn't ready to share. Leo Solutions had gone from idea to full-service business in a remarkably short time. That required significant capital, though Frankie blamed the instant growth on her mother's extensive connections. He'd withhold his opinion until he had more information.

He didn't discuss his reasons, simply made a list and kept digging. Sophia Leone's personal finances were remarkably transparent. She'd tucked the money from the general's death into a trust fund for their daughter. A fund Frankie refused to touch. Considering the salary Sophia drew from the company, she lived modestly and seemed to be socking away as much as possible into savings. This piqued his curiosity.

“Did you ever discuss your personal goals for after your service with your mom?”

“No,” Frankie said, distracted by her study of her mother's neighborhood. “I was on active duty one day and retired the next. The transition time was filled with physical therapy.” She zoomed out and moved the cursor to the Leo Solutions site. “Why did you leave Interpol?”

“Victoria made me a better offer.” She had, in fact, saved more than his career when she invited him into the Colby Agency.

“Sounds like there's a story.” Frankie shot him a sideways glance under her lashes.

That look landed like a punch to his gut, stealing his breath. “Isn't there always in our line of work?” If she wanted to hear it, he'd share a few of the more palatable details. He waited, relieved when she didn't ask.

Pushing herself out of her chair, she rolled her shoulders and then pressed her fists into her back. “I passed the physical,” she said with a weary frown. “It's the new hardware in my spine the navy can't accept. You don't have to worry about me breaking on your watch.”

“I wasn't thinking about that at all.” He'd been thinking far less appropriate things about the gentle flare of her hips and the supple way she moved.

“You'd be the first.”

“Will you tell me how you got hurt?” He needed to find some common ground, a starting point they could build from. He had no intention of being the first of Victoria's investigators to go down in flames before a client left the building.

“It was an improvised explosive at the edge of a dirt track too vague and rutted to qualify as a road.” Her voice was as quiet and still as a pond sheltered by a bank of fog. “They tell me I was tossed up in the air like a doll. It was the landing I screwed up.”

He marveled that she could be almost meditative about such a life-altering event. The contrast between her distrust and temper over her father's demise and her serenity about her personal troubles intrigued him. His injuries had been emotional, though the alcohol required to silence his demons had taken a toll. “You don't remember it?”

“Not the explosion.” She stacked her hands on top of her head. “I remember far too much of the recovery.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “It's late. I really wish I could've gone home first.”

He understood the subject was closed. For now. “What did you leave behind?”

“Clothes. I didn't pack for a week of socializing with my mom. She's always perfectly dressed for any moment. You'll see.”

He wasn't buying that. What did he have to do to earn a peek into her real concerns? “You're not going to shake me,” he said. “We're going from here to the hotel, to the airport. We're catching the flight into Seattle tomorrow. You can shop there if it becomes a problem.”

She studied him, her big brown eyes impossible to read. “I don't want to shake you.” Her gaze dropped to his lips. A long moment later, she glared at the computer as she shut it down. “Do I call a cab to get to the hotel or are you in charge of my every move?”

He grinned at her, noted her irritation. “We'll go together and call it team building.”

“Team?” She snorted. “You'll be asking for a trade as soon as you meet Sophia Leone and get caught up on the fiasco that is my family.”

Aidan didn't reply. Once he took a case, he stuck until it was closed. No matter what.

Saturday, April 9, 8:20 a.m.

A
IDAN
COUNTED
IT
a victory when they arrived at the airport on time and without further argument or conflict. When they were seated on the plane, he quickly changed his mind. The seats were too close, her body one temptation after another as she carefully situated herself and her belongings.

More than the fleeting, innocent touches of her arm or knee, the way her mind worked—swift and a little dark—compounded his problem. She was a
client
and deserved his best effort on the case. He had to find a way to ignore how she stirred him. More, he had to find a way to ignore the brief, assessing glances she'd been aiming his direction when she thought he wasn't looking.

They'd been at peak altitude for just over an hour when she shifted in her seat. “Aidan?”

Her hair was down today and as she pushed it behind her ear he caught that lovely scent again. “Yes?”

“I'm thinking we need to change up the plan.”

He kept his expression neutral, though he couldn't wait to hear what she'd been mulling over since last night. “How so?”

“If we go into Leo Solutions separately, the odds aren't in our favor. Either one of us could get tossed out if we're discovered. This may be my best chance to learn the truth. I can't afford to get pushed back to square one.”