The Boss Man's Fortune (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 5) Page 8

  “Hey, no flirting with my woman!” Wes punched Ian lightly in the shoulder. “They told me upstairs they saw you heading this way. I wanted to talk to you about that dot-com stock we discussed last week.” He glanced curiously at Katie, who hadn’t moved. “But I don’t want to interrupt you if you’re busy.”

  “Not at all. Katie O’Brien, this is Wesley Brooks and his fiancée Jasmine. Wes is my cousin’s college roommate. Uncle Harold all but adopted Wes.”

  “Very nice to meet you,” Katie murmured. Now it was her turn to seem flustered, and he marveled at the sudden baffling change. She shot a nervous glance back at the coffee shop. “I should go now. I have to finish lunch and get back to my desk.”

  “You work here at Danforth’s?” Jasmine asked.

  “Ah, yes,” Katie said, starting to back away from the group. “Just as a temp so far. But I’m hoping to stay.”

  “Well, good for you.” Wes turned to Ian. “Actually, in addition to my data on that stock, Jasmine has news about your two party crashers at the gala.”

  Katie wheeled around, her green eyes suddenly bright with interest. “Maybe I could stay just a little while.”

  Ian gave her disparaging look but she ignored him. “Why don’t we sit down over a cup. Sounds as if this might take a while.” He motioned Wesley and Jasmine through the door into D&D’s, and Katie trailed along. The table near the back where she had been sitting with her friends was now vacant, except for the remainder of her abandoned salad, so they settled there and ordered drinks.

  “Go ahead, Jas,” Ian said when they’d been served.

  The attractive African-American reporter leaned over the table and spoke in a confidential tone.

  “You asked me to help find out more about Escalante and Hernandez. The FBI are very interested in them, too. According to my source at the Bureau, these two are associated with one of the most powerful drug cartels in South America. You should be very careful, Ian. These are people with a history of playing very dirty.”

  “No surprise there,” he muttered. “Have they turned up any evidence that these same folks might have been behind the bombing of our headquarters?”

  “Not yet,” Jasmine said, “but they haven’t eliminated the possibility. What they do believe is that Escalante and Hernandez are part of a complex money-laundering scam on behalf of the cartel, which is why the pair is interested in Danforth & Danforth.”

  Wesley nodded. “Danforth’s is an old, highly respected firm, above suspicion. That would make it very attractive to them as a means of turning drug money legitimate.”

  “I’d wondered about that,” Ian murmured, aware that Katie was drinking this all in, her eyes growing larger with every disturbing sentence. He wished to God she weren’t there to hear this. He didn’t want her involved in anything so dangerous. “But the FBI can’t act, I assume, until they have solid evidence?”

  “Exactly,” Jasmine responded. “And my source has asked me to feel you out about helping with that.”

  “How?” he asked without hesitation. He lifted his cup to take a sip of the fragrant brew. It made sense the FBI wouldn’t want Escalante to suspect he was working with the FBI. Jasmine was a clever go-between, in case the Colombians were watching him.

  Jasmine stared at him solemnly. “Meet with Escalante, in private.”

  “Oh, Ian, no!” Katie gasped, clutching at his arm. “Jasmine, you just said they’re violent men.”

  Ian laid a hand over hers, but she quickly withdrew it, as if she realized her gesture was out of character for an employee. “What sort of meeting?” he asked.

  Jasmine fished a business card from her purse. “Call this agent. He’s in charge of the investigation. He’ll explain the details. I gather they hope to record a meeting between you and Escalante, get something on tape to incriminate him.”

  Ian felt a rush of adrenaline at the thought. At last, after months of feeling helpless, he’d be able to do something concrete to stop these men and protect his employees and family.

  “Maybe someone else could meet with them,” Katie suggested, looking concerned.

  “The only other person that would make sense is my father. And he can’t do it.”

  “Why not?” Katie asked.

  “The election. Honest Abe can’t be seen meeting with anyone remotely associated with crime, even if it’s to help the law. His enemies would find a way to make something of it.”

  “Ian’s right,” Jasmine murmured. “Politicians can twist the truth in ways you wouldn’t imagine.”

  “It’s settled. I’ll make the call,” Ian said.

  A few minutes later, Katie sneaked a sideways glance at Ian as she walked beside him across the lobby. She was truly impressed by the man. Of course she worried about him cooperating with the FBI, but she respected the way he was standing up to criminals.

  Ian motioned her ahead of him when the elevator door opened.

  They stepped on. The paneling was of old oak, and the carpet a wine-red. She felt as if she was traveling in a plush antique train car.

  “By the way,” Ian said, as they zipped toward the fifth floor, “you seemed awfully edgy around Jasmine. What was that all about?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged. “You’re right, she really is beautiful. I love her taste in clothes.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Well, talking to newspaper reporters makes me nervous.”

  “You were in the same room with a dozen or more journalists at the gala.” He narrowed his eyes and studied her suspiciously. “It would seem you might have gotten used to them.”

  In truth, she’d been terrified Jasmine might recognize her, connect her with the UPI photo. At the gala, she’d at first been terrified of being recognized. But as the evening continued she’d relaxed, realizing that with so many local celebrities on deck, the press was unlikely to be thinking about a lost debutante from a distant state.

  But sitting across the table from a sharp-eyed investigative reporter, that was different. She had sensed that Jasmine was watching her every gesture, studying her as she spoke. Had the woman recognized her?

  Ian seemed to be waiting for a response from her.

  She grasped for the first thing that came to mind. “It’s just that—”

  “Yes?” he said.

  “That woman should never wear blue with her coloring,” Katie blurted out.

  Ian laughed out loud and pushed through the door to his office with Katie close behind. “I’ll never understand women.”

  “Not if we can help it,” she mumbled beneath her breath, with a sense of relief.

  “Don’t accuse them of anything,” the FBI agent warned. “We don’t want to put them on the defense.”

  “Are you sure they won’t know you’ve bugged my office?” Ian asked.

  Even though Katie stood half a room away from him, he could feel her tension. The odd thing was, he sensed her concern was more for him than for her own safety. He appreciated her loyalty, even after he’d done all he could to force her to leave Danforth’s.

  “We don’t believe Escalante realizes we’ve made the connection between him and the cartel. That’s in our favor. But if he suspects a trap, it’ll be pretty obvious from the conversation. He’ll be careful about what he says.”

  Ian gave a curt nod. “You’ll be in the next office?”

  “We’re all set. I don’t expect they’ll try anything heavy-handed here.” The agent’s glance slipped briefly toward Katie. He’d insisted she stay at her desk to make the meeting appear normal.

  Ian didn’t like exposing her to these men again, but she’d argued that the agent was right.

  “They don’t want to blow a chance to use you,” the FBI man pointed out. “Colombian authorities have shut down several of their other operations. The cartel is getting desperate.”

  When the agent left, it was just Ian and Katie in his office.

  “Are you all right with this?” Ian asked.

&nbs
p; She nodded, gave him a devil-may-care smile that he guessed was meant to cover her nervousness.

  He glanced at the file cabinet. Inside the second drawer was one of the microphones. He didn’t want to say anything personal that the men in the next room might pick up, but he felt the need to reassure Katie, as well as himself.

  Ian put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I appreciate your supporting me in this, Ms. O’Brien,” he said in a proper boss-to-secretary voice.

  “I’m happy to cooperate, sir,” she responded, just as businesslike, playing along. He felt her body temperature rise by degrees within the curl of his arm.

  “If at any time you feel frightened, just get up and leave the room.” He kissed her softly, silently on the lips, then whispered in her ear. “Must be the danger, but I’m turned-on. Don’t know how I’ll be able to leave you alone.”

  She smiled. “I’ll remember that,” she said out loud. Then, for the benefit of the men listening from the next room, she repeated, “Get up and leave the room.” She kissed him back and shot him a wicked grin that just about left him panting.

  “Exactly,” he said, running the tip of his finger down her soft throat. Good thing they hadn’t also installed cameras. “I would blame myself if an employee of my company was harmed in any way.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Danforth.” Katie smoothed her hand over the fine silk shirt fabric across his chest, and he drew a sharp breath at her touch. “And now, I’d better go wait in the outer office to greet our visitors. Don’t you think?”

  He fixed her with an anguished expression before releasing her. “I suppose you should.”

  Not ten minutes later, the door from the main corridor opened and the two men who had tried to corner Abraham at the gala stepped through. Escalante was in the lead and immediately looked past Katie toward Ian’s door. “Mr. Danforth is expecting us.”

  “Yes, sir.” She felt Hernandez studying her, his eyes smoky and hooded. Her flesh crawled under his cold regard. She quickly scooped up her notepad and led the way, knocking on Ian’s door before opening it and stepping through.

  “Your five-o’clock appointment, sir.”

  Ian stood up behind his desk at which he appeared to have been working. “Good. Come in, gentlemen.”

  They all shook hands then Ian waved them toward chairs strategically placed near microphones.

  “We were delighted to hear from you, Mr. Danforth,” Escalante said. “It was our understanding that your father had cut off all chances of our working together.”

  “As was mentioned at the gala, Abraham Danforth has handed over the official reins of this company to me,” Ian reminded them. “Although he still has some unofficial say.”

  “As it should be,” Hernandez remarked, his eyes still fixed on Katie. “A man must respect his father.”

  Katie pulled her chair back a few inches, so that Escalante partially blocked his companion’s line of sight.

  Ian continued. “I feel my father has been somewhat hasty in turning away your business, Mr. Hernandez. I’m not totally satisfied with the quality of the coffee beans our current supplier has been providing. I might consider changing sources, if what you have to offer is better.”

  “Our beans are the best Colombia can provide,” Hernandez assured him, his attention at last drawn away from Katie.

  “But quality of product aside, there are other advantages to dealing with my friend,” Escalante added.

  “And they are?” Ian turned to the drug lord, his expression intent, controlled, although Katie noticed the dangerous darkening of Ian’s eyes.

  She held her breath and pretended to take notes.

  “We understand,” Escalante said, “you’ve had some recent trouble here at your corporate headquarters.”

  The bomb, Katie thought, her heart thudding wildly. He’s talking about the bomb!

  “We have.” Ian frowned. “It’s very upsetting.”

  “Particularly with the señor planning his political campaign.”

  “Yes, particularly,” Ian echoed, and gave Katie a look, letting her know that he was trying to follow the agents’ instructions to let the Colombians do the talking, rather than lead the conversation.

  Escalante continued. “So it would be most beneficial if there were no more, let us say…urgencies?”

  “Of course,” Ian responded, an underlying grit and barely restrained fury in his tone. It was clearly costing him to hold his temper, to not throw himself across the desk at these two who were all but bragging to him that they were behind the bomb.

  Katie held her tongue but kept her hand moving across the paper, taking down words so carefully chosen that she knew they wouldn’t prove anything against the two thugs.

  “She have to be here?” Hernandez suddenly asked.

  “Ms. O’Brien is my assistant,” Ian said. “She sits in on all my meetings. We need a record of our discussion.”

  Escalante smiled and rested a hand on his partner’s arm. “What is wrong with a secretary being here? We are discussing innocent business matters, my friend.”

  “I know her!” Hernandez snapped.

  Katie’s blood ran cold. She bit down on her bottom lip and looked helplessly off into the distance. He must have seen the photograph in the Chronicle. For several seconds no one spoke.

  “Where you know her from?” Escalante asked at last, his voice threatening. “She the law?”

  Katie glanced at Ian, who looked puzzled.

  “No. She was with him, at that party.”

  “Of course, she was there.” Ian stood up from his desk and faced the two men. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  The two Colombians exchanged knowing looks.

  “We understand, señor. A very practical arrangement.” Hernandez smiled smugly at his partner. “Nothing more need be said.”

  “Back to the matter at hand,” Escalante said as Ian took his seat again. “We want to assure you that we take the safety of our business associates seriously. I will personally guarantee you will have no more trouble of the sort you’ve suffered in the past, if you purchase my associate’s coffee beans.”

  “How can you do that?” Ian asked.

  Unless you were the ones who planted that bomb, she finished silently for him. The two men met his demanding gaze, and understanding passed between them. They knew what he was asking, but they didn’t fall for the bait.

  “We have ways of protecting our interests,” Escalante pronounced with a vague wave of his hand. He stood up, and the other two men followed suit. “I believe you understand our position. You know how to reach us, señor.” He nodded at his associate, and the two turned and left.

  Katie shuddered and felt a wave of relief at their departure.

  Ian stood without moving behind his desk, looking like a sturdy but storm-shaken oak. He stared at her. The corridor door closed with a clack, and still neither of them moved.

  “That was worthless,” he said.

  The FBI seconded Ian’s assessment of the interview. The Colombians had said nothing that would hold up in any court of law—nothing that could possibly incriminate them for the bombing, or label them as anything but aggressive businessmen trying to land a new account.

  Yet the tension of the twenty-minute meeting between Ian and the drug lord and his crony left Katie trembling even after the agents had packed their recording gear and gone.

  She sat at her desk, sipping coffee she’d brought up from D&D’s. Decaf this time, to soothe her frayed nerves.

  “Thanks, Katie.”

  She looked up to find Ian standing over her. “For what? All I did was make them suspicious because I was here.”

  “No. Your presence reminded me to keep my mouth shut.” He pulled her up out of her chair into his arms and held her tightly. “Dammit, I should have refused to involve you in this. I hated the way those bastards looked at you. It must have been humiliating for you.”

  “I’m all right,” she assured
him.

  He pulled back to study her face but didn’t release her. “You look terrible.”

  “Flatterer.”

  He laughed. “Maybe I should insult you more frequently. I could feel the muscles in your back loosen up for a moment.”

  Katie closed her eyes against the flow of warmth through her body. He was massaging between her shoulder blades and down the silken crevice of her spine. It felt so good.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “Insult me to your heart’s content, as long as you keep doing that.”

  His hands stopped abruptly. “Katie, there’s something you have to understand.”

  “Yes?” She felt languid, floating under the touch of his hands.

  “There are very good reasons why you can’t work here.”

  “Let’s not talk about that anymore.” She sighed. His hands were moving again. Marvelous. Each stroke of his strong fingers seemed to delve deep within her, easing away tension.

  “I care about you, Katie. I haven’t yet figured out how to deal with that, but I know one thing. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She instinctively stiffened at his protective tone. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

  “No doubt, in most cases. But this is getting serious. Just seeing you in the same room with them made me physically ill.”

  “Ian, really, I was just a little weirded out by the whole situation.” She tossed him an irritated look. “I’m okay with it now.”

  “But I’m not!” he ground out, pushing her none too gently away from him. His eyes were no longer a soft hazel. Blue-gray sparks ignited them. “I worry about you, Katie. What if those creeps tried to get to me through you?”

  She laughed. “I’m your assistant. Why would they target a simple employee?”

  “No,” he shouted, “they realize you were my date at the gala. It’s common practice for men in some countries to keep their mistresses conveniently close at hand by giving them a job.” He slammed his fist down on the desk, sending a pen flying.

  His anger was working on her, driving up her temper to match his. “You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion, Ian.” Her throat burned with unshed tears. “Why can’t you treat me like any of the other women who work here?”