Blush(89)
“Not that we could find. But that’s not uncommon for a man who moves around. Cash-under-the-table jobs aren’t that difficult to come by.”
“Don’t search on his name. His father had a large construction company in Chicago. Thirty, thirty-five years ago. Father was connected. Politicians, police chief. Wife died under suspicious circumstances when son was in his teens. Suicide, or murder. Keep looking. Go deeper,” she said, lowering her voice, knowing Cruz was nearing the kitchen. As soon as the words crossed her lips she felt awful for saying them, yet, another part of her was glad she couldn’t take them back. This was what she should do, what she was supposed to do, to protect herself. Still, it felt wrong.
“Will do,” Somerville said just as Cruz came into the kitchen, his laptop in hand. After setting it across from her on the island, he strolled over to pour himself some coffee, then sat watching her, eyebrow cocked inquiringly.
“I’m emailing you a list of two hundred and twelve names,” she told Somerville, not missing a beat. “I want a thorough background check on all of them. Expedite this, I need it right away. I want as much as you can dig up by Sunday night. Yes, I know. Weekend. Only two and a half days. I’m sure you can handle it. Tell me when you’re ready—I’ll give you a thumbnail with what I know. I’m looking for any and all ties of the people on this list to one another. Also, I want to know if they have been involved or are involved in illegal activities, and have hidden bank accounts. Large sums moving in or out of it, too. Ready?”
She met Cruz’s eyes across the counter and began: “Todd Wentworth . . .” She gave the Black Raven agent any details she knew about each person. She was so tempted to cross off Todd and another dozen people she was sure weren’t involved. Just like she had been tempted to drop the check on Cruz. She didn’t. It didn’t matter what she thought. Cruz was right. Everybody had to be vetted. Even him.
It took three hours.
Cruz made another pot of coffee, made her a sandwich, which she didn’t eat, and massaged her shoulders. Then he worked at God only knew what on his own computer, a frown of concentration on his face as his fingers tapped away at the keyboard.
• • •
Mia fanned her face with a sheet of paper from the stack beside her. She liked paper, a lot of paper, and printed every new list, every new bit of information they dug up on someone. And since that involved more than two hundred people, there was a shit storm of paper on the table, on the floor, stacked beside a printer that had come out of one of dozens of boxes in the otherwise empty living room.
“We have cool fog in San Francisco,” she told him, reading as she talked. “Even in the summer. I’m not used to this ‘muggy’ stuff.”
Her dewy skin looked as if it tasted of flower petals, and her hair clung damply against her neck, curling seductively, beckoning him closer. He ignored the temptation. He’d tossed his shirt over the counter hours ago, and wore khaki cargo shorts and nothing else. She’d changed into a red tank top and white shorts earlier. Cruz enjoyed the way the ribbed cotton accentuated her unfettered breasts, and the sharp buds of her nipples caused by him looking at her.
Giving him a sultry look that spiked his blood, she blew a breath, which fluttered her bangs. “I’m going home tomorrow.”
His heart did a double tap. “Away somewhere safe? Yes. Home to San Francisco? Hell fucking no.”
She raised a dark brow. “I beg your pardon? Who put you in charge of me? I appreciate you being protective, I really do. But this is my decision.”
Damn it. He’d put himself in charge of her. And until this shit was resolved to his satisfaction, and he knew she was safe, he was going to be her shadow. And then, like a shadow, he’d be gone at the right time. The thought wasn’t nearly appealing today as it had been a week ago.
“You already know dark pool shit is swirling back there. It would be incredibly foolish to tempt fate. You say you’ll keep bidding up until whoever is in that pool finally runs out of capital and gives up? Stay here until that happens.” Stay here with me was left unsaid.
Picking up one of the pens littering the table, she seesawed it between her fingers. Papers, pens, and cold mugs of coffee attested to their persistence and focus for hours. A glance outside showed that night had fallen, and blackness pressed against the windows with their ridiculous half curtains covered with fruit.
“I can’t let other people, Todd in particular, fend off questions and innuendos without me,” Mia told him, putting down the pen and accordion-pleating a piece of paper to make herself a hand fan. “However this is resolved, the press will be like scavengers picking at the bones of everyone involved. No matter what, this isn’t going to end up neat and tidy. It’s not fair, not to mention irresponsible, of me not to be right there in the middle of things.”