Читать книгу High Society Sabotage - Kathleen Long - Страница 9

Sara spit the dirt out of her mouth and reached for the strap of her helmet even as she launched herself into action.

She’d been able to jump from the motorcycle as they wrecked, but Kyle hadn’t been so lucky. She’d tried to tell him to jump, but he’d no doubt been unable to hear her above the noise of the motorcycle’s engine.

He and the bike were nowhere to be seen. When Sara spotted a telltale gash in the earth at the edge of the road, bile clawed its way up her throat.

It would take a miracle to survive a fall over the cliff.

She scrambled toward the edge of the roadway, ignoring the pain in every muscle in her body. She held her breath as she peered over the edge, utter amazement ripping through her at the sight of Kyle sprawled on a section of rock just below her. The bike, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Kyle!”

Sara yelled his name when she spotted movement in his arms and legs. To her amazement, he pulled himself into a sitting position, each move an obvious struggle.

“You’re all right?” He spat out the words as he tipped his face toward her, pulling off his helmet as he did so.

The arrogance so prevalent in his expression just minutes earlier was gone. Instead, he searched her face, sincere concern plastered across his features.

Sara nodded, surprised by the absence of any hint of self-awareness on his part.

“Are you hurt badly?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’ll live.”

She dropped onto her belly, reaching for him. “Give me your hands.”

Kyle gave her one hand while he used the other to pull himself up the jagged face of the section of mountain.

Sara pulled with all her might, being careful to let him set the pace. When he cleared the top, he dropped onto his side, wincing in pain. His shirt had been ripped and blood seeped through the white fabric in several spots.

She reached for him, but caught herself at the last moment, deciding against the move. “We have to get you help.”

He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “We have to get back. Get you checked out.”

“I’m all right. A bit battered, but nothing’s broken.”

He gave his head another shake. “We still need to get you cleaned up.”

Sara glanced up and down the road. They’d encountered no other vehicle during their trip except the SUV. “Any ideas?”

Kyle pulled off his boot and reached inside, pressing something along the seam.

“What are you doing?”

He lifted his pale gaze to hers and gave her a weak smile. “Automatic tracking signal.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” She shook her head, letting a laugh of relief slide between her lips.

He shot her a wink. “Never underestimate the power of technology.”

KYLE LEANED into the stream of steaming water pouring from the showerhead, his palms splayed against the cool tile. He’d been lucky. Bumped and bruised and he’d no doubt feel much worse in the morning, but he’d survived. That was a whole lot more than he could say for his bike.

He’d dropped Sara at her home and sent her car over with one of TCM’s drivers. His personal physician had followed close behind.

Dr. Franklin had checked in a short while ago to let Kyle know Ms. Montgomery would be just fine.

Kyle winced as the water stung his still raw wounds. He couldn’t believe how close they’d both come to dying.

Who had been behind the wheel of the SUV? And had the driver’s actions been done out of sport, or out of malice? If malice, who was the target? Surely not Sara. They must have been after him, but why?

He hadn’t planned to go up into the mountains, so if the attack had been made purposefully, he and Sara had been followed from the time they’d left the party. No one but the two of them knew where they had been headed.

Kyle thought of the alleged memo bearing his signature and the call he’d placed to Dwayne. Surely today’s accident had nothing to do with his demand for an explanation, did it?

He shook his head.

Pure coincidence. Though, he’d never been a fan of coincidence.

He twisted off the water and reached for a towel. After he’d dabbed at his wounds and anchored the towel snuggly around his waist, he padded barefoot to his personal office.

Here, he could access the TCM computers twenty-four hours a day. No one knew of his setup, not even his stepfather.

The one perk of his bad-boy reputation was the fact that everyone had forgotten he actually had a brain beneath his well-styled hair.

He stopped as he passed through the kitchen to snag a tall, cold beer from the fridge. He deserved a drink—or several—after today’s events.

Kyle popped the cap and took a long pull. Even though he’d literally fallen off a cliff and had had one of the worst days of his life, he couldn’t avoid the way he’d felt since the moment he first met Sara Montgomery.

Shaking her hand.

Debating land issues.

The feel of her slender shoulders beneath his touch.

His stomach tightened and he chastised himself as he dropped into his leather desk chair. He’d never let a woman get to him before, so what made this one different?

For one, she didn’t hesitate to argue with him.

He smiled. Now there was something new.

Typically, the women he met were so eager to please in order to get their claws into him that they’d agree with most anything he said.

Kyle fired up the computer and leaned back, kicking his feet up onto the handmade wooden desk. He took another long taste of his beer, staring out into the night sky. The Denver skyline twinkled in the distance.

When his architect had suggested a full glass wall in the office, Kyle had thought the man a bit mad, but every night when he sat in this very spot, he knew he’d been wrong.

The man had been a genius.

Something about the view, the expanse of land and sky, the enormity of it all, kept Kyle grounded. The sight was a constant reminder of who he was—and how small he was—in the grand scheme of things.

His father would have loved this view.

Kyle’s gut twisted. He’d never known his dad after his mother had taken Kyle back to the States as a kid. When he and Robert Prescott had reconnected a few short years ago, the relationship had been strained, but there’d been a bond that Kyle had never felt with his stepfather.

Stephen Turner was a good man, but a chasm of awkwardness existed between them that Kyle could never quite bridge.

His father had been another matter altogether. Robert Prescott had been bigger than life, at least in Kyle’s eyes. When his plane had gone down on a trip to Spain, Kyle’s playboy antics had spiraled out of control. And he’d let them.

Why not?

He had no reason to do anything else.

Robert’s wife, Evangeline, had taken over Prescott Personal Securities with an icy resolve. Matter of fact, he’d never so much as seen his stepmother flinch after his father’s death. For all he knew, she was secretly happy to find herself in the position of boss.

Marriage.

He took another drink and shook his head.

Based on what Kyle had seen, he was the smart one. Love ’em and leave ’em. That way no one stuck around long enough to get hurt, or produce offspring.

The computer blinked the entry screen for his pass code and he dropped his feet to the floor, pulling the chair close to the desk.

He had work to do.

He typed in his code and waited for the TCM welcome screen to appear.

Kyle had decided not to wait for Dwayne Johnson to return his call. There was no time like the present to search the files in case he’d “signed” more than one memo in absentia.

If someone had used his electronic signature, Kyle had every intention of finding out who…and why.

SARA BYPASSED the cubicles inside the Prescott Personal Securities headquarters and headed straight for Evangeline Prescott’s corner office. She’d received a call from her boss on her secure line not long after Kyle’s physician left.

Word had spread about the accident and Evangeline wanted a face-to-face. Like Sara, Evangeline didn’t think the SUV’s maneuvers had been anything but deliberate.

But why? And who?

Was Kyle Prescott the next name on the list of land investors in the TCM scheme? Had Sara merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Or was the man a target for an altogether different reason?

Sara knew the collision hadn’t been meant for her. She hadn’t been on the case long enough to raise anyone’s interest. Had she?

She rubbed her shoulder absentmindedly as she tapped on the doorjamb to Evangeline’s office. Her boss looked up and smiled, pushing herself to her feet.

Her long blond hair had been sleeked into a flawless twist and her vivid blue eyes sparkled through the reading glasses that sat partway down her nose. She pulled Sara into a quick hug, the move taking Sara by surprise.

Sara hadn’t seen her parents in years, and she had no personal life to speak of, so the genuine display of affection was something she wasn’t used to. It was also a side of Evangeline rarely witnessed.

“Thank goodness you’re all right.” Evangeline pushed Sara out to arm’s length and smiled. She gestured to the sofa that sat facing the bank of windows overlooking downtown Denver. “Sit down. Can I get you something? Coffee? Water?”

Sara nodded. “Coffee sounds great.”

She stared out into the lights of the city as Evangeline pressed the intercom. “Coffee please, Angel. And bring in the other items we discussed, if you would.”

Sara narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Other items?”

A smile tugged at one corner of Evangeline’s mouth. “Secret weapon. You’ll see.” She sat down on the sofa and patted Sara’s knee. “Start at the beginning and don’t leave out a single detail.”

Her expression turned from gentle to intense. “You never know what’s going to be the clue that breaks this investigation wide open.”

Sara nodded and launched into a blow-by-blow description of the day’s events. She left out nothing, even going so far as to detail the kiss she and Kyle had shared at the top of the mountain.

“Plates on the SUV?” Evangeline asked as soon as Sara stopped speaking.

“Wyoming.” Sara shook her head. “I got the first three digits, nothing more.”

Evangeline nodded and stood, reaching for the notepad on her desk. She handed it to Sara along with a pen. “Let’s get it all down. We’ll see what magic we can work with what you got.”

A pang of sadness hit Sara as she remembered the man who would have had no trouble making the information sing. Only a few weeks had passed since Lenny had been senselessly murdered, and the sudden shock had begun to give way to acceptance and grief.

The man who had been PPS’s resident computer genius was sorely missed. A geek among geeks, as he’d referred to himself. A true one-of-a-kind.

Sara wrenched her thoughts to the present. Surely someone else could make the database sing using just the SUV’s description and the partial plate.

Sara had no sooner finished making her notations than a knock sounded at Evangeline’s door.

Angel, one of the company’s receptionists, entered, black hair gleaming and multiple piercings shining.

“You’re all right?” she asked Sara, a note of genuine concern softening the harsh, Goth facade she maintained.

Sara nodded. “Thanks.”

Sara’s eyes, however, never left the object Angel carried. Two steaming mugs of coffee sat balanced on top of a large, flat box.

The secret weapon?

What on earth was Evangeline up to now?

Angel set the box on Evangeline’s worktable, handed Evangeline and Sara each a mug, then looked at Evangeline. When Evangeline nodded, Angel carried the box to Sara and set it in her lap.

“Your secret weapon.”

Sara’s pulse quickened inexplicably. “What is it?”

“The key to my stepson’s heart,” Evangeline answered.

Sara studied the size and depth of the box. Lingerie perhaps? Her belly tightened at the very thought of modeling lingerie for Kyle Prescott. Their kiss had been hot enough to momentarily undo her focus. She didn’t want to consider what a lingerie-modeling session might do.

She swallowed.

“Open it.” Evangeline instructed.

Sara lowered her coffee mug to an end table then slipped her fingertips beneath the edges of the box, slowing lifting the lid.

A plate of brownies sat inside, carefully sealed in a clear container.

She squinted and frowned. “This is the secret weapon?”

Angel excused herself from the room as Evangeline softly chuckled. But when Sara lifted her gaze to that of her boss, Evangeline’s blue eyes had gone steely.

“You’ve got to get inside his life.” She patted the container of sweets. “Seems to me this would get you in the door of his home with no problem. Let him think you’re the perfect little woman—intelligent and attractive, with a great cook on staff.”

She tipped her chin toward the brownies then stood, moving back to her desk.

“We’ve received some new intel that’s rather disturbing when it comes to my stepson. Seems you’ve edged your way into his life at the perfect time.”

Sara set the container of brownies aside and straightened. “Like what?”

Evangeline nodded. “A series of real estate documents bearing his electronic signature. All pivotal to the land deals yet detrimental to TCM.”

“I don’t understand.” Sara frowned.

“Even though the documents bear his signature, they point the finger of responsibility—and guilt—squarely at TCM. Quite brilliantly, actually.”

“But why?” Sara ran the information through her brain. She couldn’t envision the Kyle she’d met doing what Evangeline was saying he’d done.

Yes, the man was as arrogant as they came, but based on his actions after the accident, his heart was a whole lot bigger—and softer—than he let on.

Was he capable of plotting to take down his family’s company? He didn’t seem the type.

Evangeline shrugged. “Kyle never warmed to his stepfather. Maybe he’s setting the man up for a fall.” Her expression softened and the corners of her eyes turned sad. “He was never the same after his father’s death. Who knows what he’s capable of.”

Sara stood and paced a tight pattern to the windows and back. “Or maybe someone’s setting up Kyle.”

Evangeline’s pale brows climbed toward her hair-line. “So I see it’s true what they say about Robert’s son.”

“What’s that?” Sara turned to face her boss.

“His charm is legendary.”

Sara tensed defensively. “Trust me, I have no plans to fall for his charm. I’m just trying to see this situation from every possible angle.”

“Something you do extremely well.” Evangeline hesitated momentarily before she continued. “There’s one more thing.”

“What?” Sara asked.

“We found a notation in the last victim’s date book. Seems he had a meeting scheduled with a K.P. before his untimely death. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to keep his appointment.”

“Kyle Prescott.” A mix of excitement and disappointment fired in Sara’s belly. She’d found just the man she needed to unravel the mystery lurking behind the corporate facade of TCM, yet her gut didn’t believe him responsible.

Evangeline stood, her usual nonverbal mode of dismissal. “I trust you’ll take care of those bumps and bruises—” she nodded toward the container of brownies as Sara picked it up “—and put those to good use.”

Sara mulled over Evangeline’s words as she drove back toward her apartment. She couldn’t picture Kyle Prescott sabotaging the family corporation, but she forced herself to take a mental step back.

She’d known the man for mere hours. Who knew what he was really capable of?

She shoved the inexplicable flash of disappointment out of her mind for the second time since Evangeline had given her the news.

What had she expected? That Kyle Prescott might be more than handsome packaging and a society pedigree? That he might be innocent of the illegal doings inside TCM?

Was she so naive she’d fallen for his legendary charm just as Evangeline had suggested?

Get a grip, Montgomery. Now.

There had obviously been no love lost between Kyle and his half brother, Peter. Perhaps Kyle was out to hurt TCM, if for no other reason than to sabotage Peter.

Sara had no trouble, however, in picturing Kyle being involved in the oil-investing scheme. After all, he’d out and out declared his support for developing and drilling open land.

The puzzle pieces began to circulate through her brain, her favorite part of the investigative process. Now all she had to do was worm her way fully inside Kyle’s life—and inside TCM.

She patted the container of brownies on the passenger seat, then traced a finger over the address of the all-night dry cleaner Evangeline had recommended. She’d drop off Kyle’s tux jacket and have it repaired, cleaned and pressed by morning.

Tomorrow she’d dazzle the man with her concern, caring and her secret weapon.

She planned to use Kyle for an item on her personal agenda, as well.

Finding her sister’s killer.

Her gut told her Peter Turner might hold the key to the mystery she’d failed to unlock even after all this time.

Kyle’s half brother made her skin crawl, but Sara needed to follow up on what he’d said about Annemarie.

As best Sara could figure, Peter Turner would have been a mere five or six years old at the time of Annemarie’s death, but if he’d found her to be kind and patient, he might have trailed behind her at the last party she’d attended.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d seen something that would finally lead Sara to Annemarie’s killer.

After all, there had been no notes in the investigative file about interviewing a child that fateful day.

If Peter Turner had seen anything, no one had taken notice. Perhaps the investigating officers had overlooked a vital piece of evidence. A key witness.

Sara wouldn’t make that same mistake.

Access to his half brother made cozying up to Kyle Prescott very attractive. The fact Kyle himself might be neck-deep in the oil scheme justified whatever moves Sara needed to make to win the man over.

Sara always got her man.

This time would be no different.