Stop at Nothing (2 page)

Three weeks later…

Abby Morrow frowned at the data displayed on her monitor. It didn't make any sense. But she'd pulled the files four times and received the same results each time. There was no way she'd made a mistake.

She'd never been so sorry to be right in all her life.

Damn it.

She ran her hands through her already disheveled blond hair, then dropped her face into her hands with a groan, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. But as much as she hated to admit it, facts didn't lie. That was the beauty of being a digital forensics investigator and the primary reason she'd chosen the specialty.

Other facets of law enforcement could be murky and not as clear-cut. How many times were convictions based on mostly circumstantial evidence? Even the science of law enforcement had a certain margin of error. But when it came to digital evidence, the information was either there or it wasn't. She let the detectives draw their own conclusions from whatever facts she uncovered.

In this case, those facts were most definitely staring her right in the face. The texts, the photos, and the call logs that the individuals had tried so desperately to hide were right there on her screen.

Her stomach churned with the implications.

Just how in the hell had she managed to get sucked into this mess?

Oh, that's
right
… She'd asked to take on this particular freelance job. No, no. Not asked.
Begged
was far more accurate
.
She'd bugged the hell out of Sheriff Dawson, assuring him that taking on a paying client in a private investigation wouldn't interfere with her duties for the Sheriff's Department in any way, until he'd finally relented and had given his okay for her to take on the very lucrative opportunity.

There was nothing Abby loved more than a challenge, and this job definitely fit that description. She'd jumped at the chance, eager to take on something more than the standard cell-phone data pull or hard-drive extract.

Great call there, Abby. Sheer brilliance.

Of course, she never could've guessed what she'd find. That had been a total—and devastating—surprise.

She glanced at the clock in the lower right corner of her screen and cursed under her breath. She'd have to sort everything out later when she had time to mull it over. Right now, she had to get her butt moving or she'd be late picking up her nephew, Tyler. And that was the last thing the boy needed right now.

She quickly saved the reports to her encrypted flash drive, then grabbed a couple of Tums from the top desk drawer while her laptop powered down. She'd pull the data one last time later, just to make absolutely
certain
she hadn't missed anything before she turned in her final report to her client.

If
she turned in her report to her client.

She considered denying the findings, claiming she couldn't hack the technology, which certainly could happen if a device was too new. She shook her head and pressed her lips together in a frustrated line. She had fought seriously freaking hard to establish her reputation in the male-dominated field. Her client was the sort of man who had the power to ensure her career came to a grinding halt. Under any other circumstances, she would've just turned over the data to him and let those involved worry about what happened next. And yet…

Damn and double damn.

She shoved the flash drive into the pocket of her capris and grabbed her cell phone from her desk. She impulsively dialed a number on her way to the front door, desperately in need of a second opinion. But she came to an abrupt halt, her thumb hovering over the Call button, and stared at the phone number on the screen. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath hitched in her lungs when she realized who she'd been about to contact.

Since the day she'd met Kyle Dawson at the police academy, he'd been her best friend, her confidant, her go-to guy when she had a case she couldn't quite figure out and needed a fresh set of eyes.

But he was the last person she should be calling right now. Or ever, for that matter. She'd made damned sure to burn that bridge, hadn't she?

Of course, that hadn't stopped her from thinking about him every single freaking day in the three years since she'd broken things off, missing the warmth of his arms around her even after all this time. How many times had she almost dialed his number, wishing she could confide in him, laugh with him, make love with him as she had countless times that summer before he'd left for Quantico?

She shoved her phone into her purse sitting on the credenza next to the front door. No, there'd be no running to Kyle for advice. She already knew what she had to do.

Walk away.

Which meant passing up the crap-load of money her client was offering, money that would've paid for the treatment center where her mother was in rehab. Again.

But for the sake of everyone involved, Abby needed to turn the case over to the feds, let them pursue the leads she'd uncovered, and let the chips fall where they may—which was going to be way closer to home than she'd ever dreamed. And once again, she was going to be left to pick up the pieces.

Typical. So freaking typical.

Abby dropped into the driver's seat behind the wheel of her ten-year-old Camry, shoulders sagging. If things could go more to shit, she wasn't quite sure how. And to add insult to injury, she was once again going to have to break the news to her nephew that his parents were letting him down. Although, she had to admit, considering her sister and brother-in-law's track record, she hadn't been entirely surprised when her sister had called her a few days ago from Chicago to let Abby know she'd decided to stop off on her way home from France to see an old friend.

Yeah right.

Abby knew all about Emma's “old friend.” A playboy billionaire, he was one of the most sought-after
married
men in the United States and had a penchant for bedding other men's wives while leaving his own to deal with the fallout in the press. He was also chairman of the board for one of her brother-in-law's international security firms.

She shook her head in exasperation. Her sister's affair with the man was certainly no secret to the social elite of the Midwest. But the wealthy had a way of turning a blind eye to the tawdry goings-on within their circle—until that information could benefit them in some way. That was a truth their mother had learned the hard way. Abby could only protect her sister from scandal for so long. And that time was rapidly running out…

* * *

“You're a prick.”

Kyle grinned in spite of himself, glad to hear his brother's voice on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately. But usually there's a colorful adjective in front of it—arrogant, self-important. Get with it, bro.”

His brother Joe wasn't amused. “Imagine my surprise when a buddy of mine over at the South Bend FBI office asked me how I liked having my kid brother back home. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about and sounded like a major jackass when he told me you'd been transferred and were now assigned to one of their resident offices up this way. What the fuck, Kyle? You can't pick up the goddamn phone to let us know?”

Kyle set down the last box of his stuff on the office floor and straightened on a sigh. “I'm sorry, Joey. I wasn't ready for Dad's shit. I just got in yesterday and wanted to get settled before I had him bustin' my balls about screwing up again.”

“What happened?” Joe asked. “I thought you liked New Orleans.”

Kyle sat down on the corner of the desk and stared out the office window that had an oh-so-scenic view of the dumpsters. Nothing like being the FNG—the fucking new guy—all over again. “Yeah, well, turns out I wasn't such a good fit.”

“One too many
X-Files
jokes to Skinner?” Joe chuckled.

Kyle ran his hand through his thick black hair, wishing it were that simple. “Something like that.”

“You can tell me about it over dinner tonight,” Joe informed him. “I'll throw some steaks on the grill.”

Kyle's mouth began to water at the thought of a home-cooked meal. After so many years as a confirmed bachelor, he rarely bothered much with cooking. Pizza and Chinese takeout were easier and didn't make it so blatantly obvious that he was eating alone. “Sounds good. But you'd better run that by Sadie.”

“Already did,” Joe said. “She said to getchya ass over here by seven.”

Kyle couldn't suppress his grin. It was good to see his big brother happy again. Joe had had one hell of a time of it when he'd returned home from his last tour in Afghanistan. The physical scars he'd suffered were bad enough, but the emotional ones… Well, thank God for Sadie Keaton and her love. They'd nearly lost Joe in more ways than one, but thanks to Sadie, his brother was happier than Kyle had ever seen him. As far as Kyle was concerned, if that woman asked him to walk through fire, he'd slap on some sunscreen and get to steppin'.

“You're one lucky bastard,” Kyle told his brother. “You know that, right? Sadie grows up next door to the four of us Dawson boys, and
you're
the one she falls for? How the hell did
that
happen?”

Joe chuckled. “I guess she came to her senses after one date with you.”

Kyle grunted, remembering well that night back in college even all these years later. He'd never stood a snowball's chance. After just a few minutes into the date, it'd become painfully obvious that the girl next door would never be his, that there was only one Dawson brother for her. And that brother had been on his first deployment to Afghanistan.

“Yeah, well, all she did was go on about you the whole time,” he admitted. “It's about damned time you two finally figured out you were in love with each other. I was getting sick of Sadie calling me all the time to talk about your sorry ass.”

“You can kiss this ‘sorry' ass,” Joe shot back. “You only
wish
you could be the fine specimen of manhood I am.”

Kyle's smile grew. The only thing he didn't regret about being reassigned was that he was now within a two-hour drive of the brother he'd worshipped while growing up and had missed like hell since leaving home. “Dream on, loser. I'll see you tonight.”

“Hey, Kyle.”

“Yeah, man?”

“It's good to have you home.”

Kyle disconnected the call and stared at his phone for a moment. His brother's happiness brought a dull ache to the center of his chest, and Kyle wondered for the millionth time what his life would've been like if things had gone differently that summer three years ago. If Abby had just asked him to stay.

The memories he'd managed to keep barricaded in the back of his mind most days came flooding back to him as if his mental dam had finally crumbled under the stress of keeping them in check. He'd worked with Abby at the Sheriff's Department for a couple of years, had flirted mercilessly with her in spite of his strict “don't shit where you eat” rule about dating. But when he announced that he was leaving for Quantico, everything had changed.

It'd all started that day at the lake when his friends had thrown him a party on the beach to celebrate. Even now, he could see Abby coming out of the water in that pale blue bikini that showed off her long, tan legs, pert breasts, and smokin' hot figure. He'd seen the look in her eyes as she caught his lustful gaze and knew it was
on.
And when she'd seized the beer bottle in his hand and taken a drink before handing it back with a wink, he'd been glad to have a towel wrapped around his waist to hide the effect she had on him.

It'd been sheer torture the rest of the day until he could get her alone. Finally, as the party was winding down, they'd gone out for a boat ride together at sunset and had ended up anchored in a secluded cove, screwing their brains out. He was grateful for the sport yacht's T-tops that at least partially shielded them from view—in the captain's chair, Abby's long legs straddling him as she rode him; Abby on her knees on the speedboat's bench, bent over the stern as he clutched her hips, drilling her from behind; or down on the floor of the boat on the cushions as he thrust again and again, watching in fascination as rapture played over her beautiful face.

When they were too exhausted to go at it again, they settled for huddling together under beach towels, kissing and making out, stroking one another into smaller, mewling releases most of the night. He hadn't been able to get enough of her. His hands and lips constantly sought her out, craving the feel of her velvety soft skin. And her hands had been just as eager to explore his body, bringing him more pleasure than he'd ever imagined possible.

The entire summer had been that way. The sexual tension that had always simmered between them erupted with such explosiveness that they'd been swept away. But it was more than just sex. She'd brought a light into his life that had been sorely lacking, a love that had filled him with the kind of happiness that he hadn't believed existed. And it'd come to an abrupt end the night before he had to leave when he'd told her he loved her and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

How many times had he wanted to call her over the years, just to see how she was doing? Find out how she was? Try to figure out if she missed him even half as much as he missed her? It's not like he couldn't have found out how things were going for her. He worked for the FBI, for chrissake. Or, hell, Abby was Sadie's best friend. He could've just asked about Abby during one of Sadie's many calls to talk about how much she missed Joe. But he never had, too afraid of the answer he'd get. And Sadie hadn't volunteered any information.

His thumb smoothed over the screen of his phone as his frown deepened, wondering what Abby would say about him being back in town. Did she already know? Had Sadie told her?