Hard As Ice (Fortis Series 1) (9 page)

“Are we still on for tonight?” Lianne asked after a quick hello.

Nia bit the inside of her cheek, trying to think of a good excuse. Lianne’s fiancé, Eddie, had his brother in town for a couple of weeks. Lianne had made plans for Nia to join them for a night out. It wasn’t a double date or anything since Eddie’s brother, Kevin, had a girlfriend back in Seattle. But Nia still hesitated. She wasn’t really in the mood to hang out as part of a group.

“Please don’t cancel, Nia. I found this place downtown that has a live band playing tonight. You can’t leave me with the boys by myself!” pleaded Lianne. “If you’re not there, they’ll just insist on going to a bar and I’ll be stuck watching baseball all night or something.”

That did sound like hell, so Nia caved.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” she conceded.

“Yes! I’m thinking seven o’clock for dinner?” suggested Lianne.

“Sure. I’m going to go home and change, but that should be fine.”

“Do you want us to pick you up?”

“No, that’s okay,” Nia replied. “I’ll just grab a cab.”

“Okay, I’ll send you a text with the address. See you later!”

Nia barely had time to say good-bye before her phone was beeping with another call.

“Hello?” she quickly answered.

“Hi, Nia, it’s Evan.”

She sat back in her chair, trying to regain her composure.

“Hi, Evan,” she managed to reply smoothly. “How are you?”

Geez, that sounded so formal. She could almost see his teasing grin, mocking her.

“I’m fine. How are you?”

It was her turn to grin.

“I’m good, thank you,” she returned.

“Did you sleep well?” His tone lowered a bit, making his words sound more suggestive than they should have. Heat warmed her cheeks.

“I did, actually.”

“Good,” he stated. “I didn’t sleep at all, in case you’re wondering.”

Nia smiled harder, enjoying his flirting more than she should.

“Really? That’s unfortunate. What do you think caused that?”

“I was feeling a bit tense for some reason,” Evan surmised, his voice smooth as silk.

“Hmmm. Tension is very bad for you, Evan. You should do something about that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. What are you doing this evening?”

Nia couldn’t stop grinning.

“I have plans, unfortunately,” she told him.

“Any chance you can change them?” he probed. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, really tempted to accept his offer.

“Sorry, I can’t. I just confirmed them with a friend.”

He cleared his throat, and Nia waited for him to respond.

“There is something to be said for a good workout at the gym, I guess,” he stated.

Nia paused for a moment, hoping he would suggest another opportunity to get together. The silence became awkward.

“I’m glad you called anyway,” she added.

“And why is that?” Evan drawled.

“We need to start work on your collection,” she explained in her best professional voice, as devoid of flirtation as possible. “I need to sit down with you to look at the options for when we can do a complete inventory, followed by the appraisals. Once those two processes are complete, then I can advise on the best strategy to auction off the collection.”

“Okay, let’s do that tomorrow,” he stipulated.

“Tomorrow? It’s Saturday,” Nia reminded him.

“Exactly. So plenty of time to discuss it. I have a charity event to attend at the Vineyard. You can come with me. We’ll drive, take our time,” he added.

“What? Martha’s Vineyard?” she stammered. “Isn’t that a little far?”

“Only just a couple hours’ drive. It’s Memorial Day weekend. We’ll stay the night, drive back Sunday. Or even on Monday if you’d like.”

“Evan, I . . .”

“No expectations, Nia, other than your company. My family has a house there, plenty of room.”

“You have a house there,” she repeated, feeling both surprised and overwhelmed by the offer.

“Just a little summer cottage,” he humbly clarified. “Come with me, Mia. I was going to fly in just for the party, but I would much prefer to make a weekend of it with you. And there will be plenty of time to discuss my contract.”

Nia squeezed her eyes tight, trying to think of a response. It would be so easy to say yes, to rush off for the weekend with the hot guy she’d just met. And they would very likely end up in bed together. The physical attraction they shared was undeniable. But self-preservation and life experience were both screaming in the background that it was too good to be true. He was too good to be real.

“I don’t think I can go, Evan. I have a commitment tomorrow that I can’t break,” she finally told him.

He was not dissuaded.

“What time?”

“Nine-thirty,” she replied, weakly.

“In the morning? For how long?”

“About two hours,” estimated Nia. It was technically only an hour, but she felt the need to make it sound more time-consuming.

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at one o’clock, then we’ll have a late lunch in Cape Cod. Unless you have other plans for the weekend. Or don’t you want to go?” Evan suggested when she didn’t respond right away.

She couldn’t lie, even though it would have been better for her well-being to do so.

“No, no other plans. You just caught me off guard, that’s all,” she explained. “It sounds like a great trip.”

“So, you’ll join me?”

With a deep breath and eyes scrunched, Nia went with her desire.

“Yes, I’ll go. But, only for one night.”

Evan had always approached surveillance with analytical detachment. Early in his career with the agency, it was effective training on reading people and surroundings to predict behavior and all possible outcomes. Later, in the field and as part of the CIA Protective Services, his instincts became razor-sharp. There were countless files where the smallest observations effectively foiled plots, apprehended suspects, and saved lives. Even his final mission in the Protective Services division was completed successfully. Despite taking a bullet in the leg from the assailant, Evan had still managed to save the ambassador to the United States from an assassination attempt in Azerbaijan near the Iranian border. His injury was unfortunate, but was also a calculated and necessary risk in the situation.

Today, as he and Raymond tailed Nia’s taxi into downtown Boston on Friday evening, he didn’t feel sharp or detached. His thigh muscle throbbed from the intense workout he’d gone through that afternoon. Evan rubbed at the tight scar tissue, trying to relieve the ache. Eight months after the shooting, he only had lingering pain when he pushed his body beyond normal endurance. It was an acceptable amount of discomfort considering the original prognosis had been permanent disability. The bullet hit him from close proximity and punctured a main artery, tore up his quadriceps, and chipped the femur bone. In the chaos after the shooting, the priority had been to get the ambassador safely out of the vicinity without causing an international incident. It was several hours before Evan could seek proper medical attention, resulting in massive blood loss followed by a deep infection.

Five months and two surgeries later, there had been minimal improvement to the mobility in his leg. Evan was unwilling to accept that he would be forever crippled. He politely retired from the CIA and returned home to move on with his life, determined to at least walk without a limp again. The first thing he did was start private sessions of physical therapy, the second was to reach out to his good friend, Lucas Johnson.

The two men had met in Washington, D.C., early in their government careers. They worked together on a lengthy bank fraud case with ties to Eastern European organized crime, and quickly became close friends. Over the years, while Evan was home in Virginia between assignments, they often talked about starting a private agency together, providing elite asset recovery, corporate security, and personal protection services beyond what local police could offer.

Four years ago, when Lucas wanted to launch the company, Evan wasn’t quite ready to leave the CIA. Instead, Evan offered to be an investor and silent partner. With the strength of the DaCosta name in the military security and defense industry, they would have quick access and credibility to a very niche client list.

Fortis was born. Evan provided seed money from his trust fund, Lucas managed the operations, only needing to consult with Evan on major decisions. One of which was the opportunity to extend their partnership to include Samuel Mackenzie, a former British MI5 agent whom Lucas had worked with in the Secret Service. After meeting the burly Scot, Evan was fully supportive. It was a smart investment. The agency quickly grew into a successful organization with few competitors in North America.

Evan’s attention returned to the present as the cab they were following stopped at the curb a half a block ahead. He parked the nondescript black SUV he was driving a short distance back. He and Raymond watched Nia exit her cab and walk into a small bar. Raymond then quickly installed a small earpiece and prepared to follow her in.

As planned, Tony was in New York for a couple of days, looking into the lead that had surfaced yesterday. There was an Interpol informant, known only as Spencer, who ran a well-respected art and antiquities dealership in Manhattan. The word in Tony’s network was that Spencer was the man to talk to about high-end stolen goods in any major city on the East Coast.

Before he left, Tony had managed to get into the dead security guard’s apartment while his girlfriend was out. Unfortunately, Flannigan had been too smart to leave anything incriminating or relevant there.

Now, with Tony out of town, the team was a man down and had to make do with someone Nia had met before. In casual clothes and a baseball cap, it was unlikely that she would still recognize Raymond as one of the Fortis investigators, if she saw him.

“Let’s get a picture of everyone she talks to,” Evan instructed, repeating their surveillance plan. “I want to hear about every move she makes. And make sure she doesn’t spot you.”

“Got it.”

Raymond exited the car and casually followed Nia. His voice came through to Evan’s earpiece about three minutes later.

“Okay, I have her. She’s just joined a guy at a table in the back of the room. They hugged,” Raymond described.

Evan clenched his jaw, the only physical reaction to the instinctive annoyance he felt. He knew it was ridiculous. He should feel good, this man could be the break they were looking for, a tangible lead into who Nia is working with, if in fact she’s involved in the robbery.

“I’ve just sent the image,” continued Raymond. “This would be a good place for a meeting. It’s small, a little dark, music playing but not too loud for conversation. But they’re laughing now. It looks more like a date than business, to me.”

“It could be,” Evan replied, in a neutral tone. “She only said she had plans with a friend. Let’s see if Lucas can find anything on the guy with his new facial recognition toy.”

“Okay, looks like a foursome,” Raymond quickly added. “Another couple has joined them, bringing a round of drinks. More hugging, laughing. Pics on the way.”

“Got ’em,” replied Evan a few moments later. “Sit tight until I hear back from Lucas.”

“No problem. There’s a live performance that’s about to start. I’ll just chill out with a beer and enjoy the show.”

Within a couple of minutes, they had Nia’s associates confirmed: Lianne Bloom, registered psychotherapist, engaged to Edward “Eddie” Thompson, financial analyst, brother to Kevin Thompson, veterinarian. The latter was visiting Boston from Seattle, according to a social media post. Not one police arrest or known illegal association among them.

“Wow, it’s a real who’s who of the criminal underground,” quipped Raymond. “How do you want to play this, Ice?”

“Let’s keep watch, just in case,” Evan instructed. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen a clever criminal operate in plain sight.

But the rest of the evening went by without any notable activity. The group of four left the club together, and Nia was dropped off at home before eleven o’clock.

“The music was pretty good,” Raymond stated as they drove back to the Harbor Hotel.

Evan only raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously, it’s pretty hard to find a nice place with live music these days,” the agent added. “It’s called Moody’s, and I pulled up their website. Turns out they have a few locations on the East Coast, including Arlington. I’m going to have to check it out. Impress the ladies.”

Evan was saved from responding when a call came in from Lucas.

“Ice, when will you be back at the room?” he asked through the speakerphone.

“In about five minutes. Why?” Evan replied, on edge.

“We got something from the sealed juvenile record on James. It was a burglary charge. Call me when you’re in the control room and I’ll give you what I know.”

Twenty minutes later, the ground team was in the middle of a debate. Lucas’s intel revealed that Nia James had been attending a prestigious private high school in Bloomfield, Michigan, on scholarship. In the middle of her junior year, she was accused of trying to steal diamond earrings from the home of a schoolmate. Six months later, the charges were dropped by the victim, but not before Nia lost her scholarship and was expelled from the school.

“That’s it, boys. The evidence against James just keeps stacking up,” Raymond stated.

“No wonder she was so cagey in the interview,” added Michael. “A prior burglary charge. Even if she was just fifteen and the charges were dropped.”

“It’s still a fact we can’t ignore,” contended Raymond. “Millions of dollars in rare jewels as motive, the access to the safe for opportunity, and now a previous arrest for theft. Of diamonds, no less. Then add recent communication with the ex-con?”

“Nigel St. Clair,” stated Evan.

“She’s the only viable suspect, guys. We’ve got zippo on anyone else in the company,” Raymond reminded them.

“Can’t argue with that,” Michael agreed.

Evan turned from the spot he had been planted, near the window with a view of the glittering harbor, ignoring the disappointment that had settled low in his stomach.

“We continue the plan with James as the prime suspect,” he instructed. “I’ll trail her to the appointment she has in the morning, then I’ll keep a close eye on her for the weekend. Tony will be back Sunday from New York, so let’s use the next few days to get all the answers we need. Either James will slip up, or we need to confirm the buyer and locate the money trail.”

The other two men nodded in agreement, then broke up to pack it in for the night. Evan entered his suite. His body was exhausted, but his mind was racing. For the first time in his professional career, he couldn’t trust his instincts and it was frustrating.

Like Michael and Raymond, Evan could not dispute the evidence stacking up against Nia. All logical reasoning told him she had to be involved in some way. His initial assessment was still accurate; she was not a woman who could easily be pressured or coerced into anything. So the same logic would indicate she was dangerously manipulative and conniving. An unscrupulous thief, callously using her femininity to dupe the men around her, including Edward Worthington. And maybe even capable of planning the murder of an accomplice.

Unfortunately, other than logic and common sense, nothing Evan had observed about Nia James in the last three days suggested she could be willingly involved in the high-stakes game of grand larceny and assassination. When he was with her, pretending to start a hot love affair, nothing between them felt like she was guilty. If he was really honest about it, their time together hardly felt like working a case. It felt like a man wanting a woman in the most natural way. And that was just fucked up.

And there was no doubt he wanted her. Even now, knowing what was in her juvenile file, seeing her out with another man, Evan was anticipating their weekend together. She triggered something in him that he didn’t understand. A physical attraction that was unlike anything he’d experienced before. It was uncomfortable and unnerving. And Evan knew he had to get it under control. He had two days in close proximity in which to do that, and uncover whatever secrets Nia James was still hiding.

Evan spent another couple of hours packing a weekend bag and reviewing the various files and reports they had gathered on the case to date before catching a few hours of exhausted sleep. He was up at six o’clock Saturday morning to join the team for a workout in the well-equipped hotel gym. By eight o’clock, he was inside the black SUV, watching Nia’s front door. Thirty minutes later, she walked out of her apartment dressed casually in narrow fitted jeans, a light jacket over a T-shirt, and flat shoes. Her thick hair was still in the usual ponytail, but without the professional clothes, stiletto heels, and blood-red lipstick, she appeared younger, less untouchable.

He watched as she walked in the direction of the nearest subway station. Evan stepped out of the truck to follow her on foot. For the next fifteen minutes, he stayed within visual range, but well hidden by the other transit passengers. Wearing track pants, a hoodie, and running shoes, he looked like every other guy headed to the gym. His holstered gun was concealed under the baggy sweat clothes. Nia exited the subway in Dorchester, just south of downtown Boston. Evan’s senses were on high alert. This neighborhood seemed to be at the epicenter of the suspects involved in the robbery. Whatever Nia was doing there had to be related.

She walked another three blocks, head held high, with no sign of concern for the rough characters gathering at front stoops or the drunks hanging out in front of the closed liquor store. She was focused on her destination, with a strong, determined stride. Evan almost wondered what would happen if someone tried to mess with her. He remembered her firm body, and comment about kickboxing. His money would be on Nia doing some serious damage.

Finally, she turned to enter a small community center. It was five minutes before nine o’clock. Evan sped up his pace so that he wouldn’t lose sight of her inside the building. He cautiously opened the front door, but found the center hall in front of him empty.

“Excuse me, mister.” Evan turned to find a young girl standing behind him. “I need to get in or I’ll be late for my class.”

She was tall and reed-thin, with dark hair and ivory, freckled skin. He figured she wasn’t more than eleven.

“Class on a Saturday? That sucks,” he commented while opening the door for her.

“It’s not school,” she shot back, like he was an idiot. “It’s music.”

Then she was off running down the hall, stepping into the last doorway on the right.

Evan looked around again. The rest of the building seemed empty. He slowly made his way down the corridor, cautiously checking each of the rooms along the way. He was halfway to the end when he heard Nia’s laugh. It sounded natural and genuine. There was also the trilling giggle of a girl. Cautiously, he crept forward toward the doorway the girl had entered.

“Okay, enough silliness. Let’s get started,” he heard Nia state. “How much practicing did you do this week?”

He peeked in to find the two females seated beside each other on a bench in front of a full-size piano with their backs to him.

“Three hours?” the girl replied, hesitantly.

“Three? Meghan, you were supposed to do at least forty-five minutes a day,” Nia scolded.