Branded
Authors: Cindy Stark
(Book
One in the Retribution Series)
By Cindy
Stark
AMAZON KDP EDITION
PUBLISHED BY
C. Nielsen
Branded ©
2012 C. Nielsen
All rights
reserved
Amazon KDP
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This ebook is a
work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of
the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be
construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events,
locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Cowboys and Angels (Aspen Series #3)
Lawless (Aspen Series #2)
Relentless (Aspen Series #1)
Moonlight and Margaritas
Sweet Vengeance
To all the pups who have made me laugh and smile—I love you all
Boo, Apollo, Stormy, Charlee, Kai, Cheyenne, Baylee, Misty and Ginger
To my beautiful daughters who continue to amaze me
Special thanks to Kerri, Tiffinie, Natalie and Lesli for their invaluable
expertise and friendship.
One
Nicole Camden wound her way through the eerily
quiet and mostly empty cubicles on the fifth floor of the First Freedom
Financial Company building in downtown Portland, wondering if she’d missed an
early morning meeting. As she made her way closer to the opposite side of the
floor, the hairs on her arms stiffened.
Her co-workers had congregated in the vicinity of
her
cubicle. Her first thought was poor, old Mr. Hadley who sat opposite her must
have suffered another heart attack, but as she drew nearer, a hush fell over
the crowd as all eyes turned toward her.
She slowed her steps, some basic instinct telling
her she should turn and run.
Two gentlemen wearing coats with “police” in
bright yellow letters on their backs sat in her space, both wearing latex
gloves. The dark-haired one was busy emptying her drawers, and the bald one placed
her keyboard into a large plastic sack.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, a silent
foreboding seeping into each cell of her body. Julie and Mary from IT wouldn’t
meet her gaze. Even Susannah from the first floor had found her way upstairs
to watch the commotion.
The dark-haired man looked at her and stood, his
lanky frame towering over her by several inches. “Nicole Camden?”
She glanced at her fellow co-workers for a clue as
to what was going on. She turned back to the man. “Yes?”
He stepped toward her, his height and demeanor
imposing. “You’re wanted for questioning. It’s serious, and believe me, it
will be easier if you come with us now…rather than later.”
“
What
?” She wanted to think this was some
kind of practical joke, but she could tell from his expression he was dead
serious. “There must be a mistake.”
“I’m afraid not, ma’am. We’d like you to come to
the station for questioning. You can go willingly or force us to get an arrest
warrant.”
She gripped the edge of her cubicle for support as
she searched for someone, anyone who might save her from this madness. Her
gaze landed on Riley, the only person on her floor who’d been more friend than
co-worker since she’d begun her employment there.
“What did you do?” He widened his light blue eyes.
“Nothing. I…I don’t know.” Fear tightened her
vocal cords, raising the octave of her words.
“Shall we?” The detective took her arm and tugged
her toward the elevator.
“Don’t say anything. I’ll call my lawyer,” Riley
called as she stumbled her way back through the maze of workstations.
She nodded over her shoulder, panic stealing her
rationality as the dark-haired man led her away. She’d never been anything but
upstanding and honest. “I don’t understand any of this.” Someone had made a
serious mistake.
“It’s a good thing you’re coming with us to get it
sorted out, then,” the detective replied as they entered the elevator.
“Can you tell me what I’m being questioned about?”
“The embezzlement of ten million dollars from your
employer.”
Her brain couldn’t comprehend the idea of it. She
glanced at the officer, surveying his uniform. It looked real. “Is this an
office joke or something?”
He returned her searching gaze. “I’m afraid not,
ma’am.”
Events during the next half hour blurred
together. Warm October sunshine contrasted with her being deposited in the
backseat of a police car. The detective who’d escorted her down to the lobby left
her in the custody of another officer who drove her to the precinct.
Just being in the police station frightened her. Everyone
eyed her as though she was guilty even though she’d done nothing wrong.
Worse still, it dredged up memories of her
childhood. Memories of a loud blast and a bright flash of light ripping her
from her sleep. Of armed men busting into her home. Of yelling and scuffling
that she didn’t understand. She’d hidden from them under her bed and watched
as they’d roughed up her father and taken him in the middle of the night.
When the commotion had settled and the men had gathered
in the front room, she’d slipped from her window and down the fire escape to
hide across the street. Hours had passed before they’d left and she could
sneak back inside.
It was years later that she’d realized it had been
the police conducting a raid. At the tender age of nine, she’d spent five days
alone, waiting and wondering if her father would return. When he did, he’d
been so proud that she’d evaded the police. Told her she was just like him.
He’d been wrong. So wrong. She’d never been
anything like him, never would be.
He’d
been guilty. Guilty of too many
physical and emotional crimes.
But that was the past. Her future concerned her
now. If they learned who her father was, would they consider her guilty, too?
Was that why she was there? And good Lord, ten million dollars? The thought
made her sick.
The officer guided her to a small, nondescript
room with a marred wooden table and four chairs. He left her there with
nothing but the furniture and an intimidating one-way mirror. She glanced at
the reflective glass, wondering if anyone was behind it watching her. The
thought freaked her out, and she quickly looked away.
A few minutes later, a man not much older than her
wearing a buttoned-down shirt, loosened tie and dark blond hair entered the
room. A friendly smile settled on his face as he sat opposite her, but she
could tell his intense brown eyes studied and assessed everything about her. “Ms.
Camden, I’m Detective Sam Holden. I have a few questions I’d like to ask.”
She twisted her fingers in front of her. “Okay.”
If he wasn’t questioning her integrity, she might have thought him attractive.
He glanced at his yellow notepad. “I show that
you’ve been an employee at First Freedom Financial Company for the past six
months. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Or it was. If her bosses seriously
thought she’d stolen money from them, she doubted she’d still have a job even
if she was innocent.
“And you have access to their financial computer
system?”
Instinct put her on alert. She might be innocent,
but she was also smart enough to not say anything without representation. “Shouldn’t
we wait for my attorney?” She hadn’t been formally charged or read her rights,
but she didn’t think he could deny her.
His smile disappeared. “I wasn’t aware you’d
called a lawyer.”
She swallowed a healthy dose of nerves. She
really didn’t want to piss off this man, but she had to protect herself. “A
friend at my office called for me.”
“I see.” He stood and picked up his notepad. “We’ll
wait for your lawyer then.” The sound of the door closing echoed through the
isolated room.
Embezzlement of millions of dollars? That was
grand larceny. The irony of it mocked her. Grand larceny was the one
indictment that had finally stuck and landed her father in prison. Interesting
and unnerving that the amount was the same as his last heist. Not the crime he’d
been convicted for, but the authorities had been certain he’d been behind the
theft.
A massive shudder rippled through her. Now, she had
the same accusation hovering over
her
head. She didn’t need anyone to
tell her she’d somehow become entangled in a serious mess.
She laid her head on the cool table and closed her
eyes, trying to force herself to breathe in a normal pattern.
Another hour passed before an older gentleman entered
the room. She’d guess him to be about her father’s age, if her father had
still been alive. There was enough gray in his hair that he could no longer
call it black, but the close-cropped cut gave him a suave, smart appearance.
He approached the table and held out his hand. “Cecil
Barton. Riley called me.”
She stood and shook his hand, appreciating the
warmth and strength she found there. “Nicole Camden.” She resumed her seat,
and he followed suit before pulling a legal pad and pen from a leather case.
“Ms. Camden, or may I call you, Nicole?”
She released a breath, feeling a tad less
vulnerable. “Please, call me Nicole.”
“Well, Nicole, these are some pretty serious
charges they want to question you about. What can you tell me?”
“Honestly, not much.” At his raised brows, she
continued. “I don’t know why they think I would steal ten million dollars, but
they have to be lying or mistaken or something. I would never do that.
Ever
.”
She didn’t know what else she could say to convince him.
Mr. Barton went through a few hasty preliminaries
with her, but he seemed to realize quickly that she truly had no further
information she could possibly provide. The whole thing had been such a
whirlwind, and she was basically as clueless as he was.
The door opened, and Detective Holden walked in,
an air of confidence surrounding him. “It appears your counsel has arrived, Ms.
Camden.” He exchanged polite greetings with Mr. Barton.
