Sail Away (16 page)

Adam spied Henderson on board with eight other men. Good.

Lowering his binoculars, content to wait until all the fishermen disembarked, he leaned against the sun-bleached rail and shoved his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose.

Gerald Henderson took his time about getting off the boat, but finally he appeared on the dock, wearing worn jeans, flannel shirt, jacket and a hat decorated with fishing lures and hooks. He hauled a couple of fishing poles and a tackle box with him.

“Any luck?” Adam asked, once he’d closed the distance between himself and Henderson. He’d waited around most of the afternoon and now he wanted answers.

“Nah, not even a nibble,” Henderson replied before looking up and realizing Adam wasn’t just another interested fisherman asking about the salmon run. Henderson’s face fell. “What’re you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Why? I’ve already told you everything I know.”

“Have you?” Adam surveyed the smaller man. Henderson was nervous, glancing over his shoulder and gnawing at his lip.

“I just want to know how deeply Simms was involved in the embezzling mess.”

“Kent?” Henderson shrugged. “We went over this, Drake. I’m not sure who was involved. It could’ve been you.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“Probably not,” Henderson admitted, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Kate and I found the discrepancies on the books and brought them to Kent’s attention. He took it from there. But he seemed as surprised as I was that there was something wrong.” He tried to shake out a single cigarette, but three or four dropped onto the dock. Swearing, Henderson bent over and picked them up.

“Maybe Kent was just surprised that you figured it out,” Adam offered.

Henderson stuck one cigarette between his lips and shoved the others back in the pack. “Maybe.” He began walking again, toward the sandy parking lot.

“And you were paid to keep your mouth shut.”

“I wasn’t paid a dime.” He cupped his cigarette against the wind and clicked his lighter to the tip.

“Then how’re you surviving?”

“Disability.”

“What?”

“And my pension. You should’ve stayed on with the company a few more years. Great benefits.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Henderson took a deep drag on his cigarette. “Look, Drake, I don’t know why you think I’ll say something more than you don’t already know, but I won’t. You know everything I do, so why don’t you just bug off?” With that he stalked across the lot to a dusty red pickup and threw his fishing gear behind the seat back.

Adam was right on his heels. “There’s more that you’re not telling me.”

Henderson tossed his cigarette into the gravel where the butt burned slowly, a curling thread of smoke spiraling into the clear air. “I don’t
know
anything. I just have hunches.”

“What are they?”

“Nothing that I can prove.” He started to climb into the cab of the pickup, but Adam grabbed his arm and spun him around, slamming him up against the back fender.

“I’ll do the proving,” he said, shoving his face next to Henderson’s and seeing a drip of perspiration as it slid from beneath the smaller man’s hatband. “Who agreed to pay your disability?”

Henderson gulped. “The old man himself.”

“Montgomery?”

“Yeah.”

Adam didn’t let go of Henderson’s lapels. “And who told you that you’d be paid?”

“My boss. Fred.”

“Fred Ainger?”

“Right.”

Adam’s hard gaze pinned Henderson to the fender. Henderson was shaking by this time, sweat running down his neck in tiny streams. “You think he was involved?”

“I told you, man, I
don’t
know.” Henderson’s gaze slid away, and he smoothed the front of his jacket. “Fred has money problems—I don’t know how serious.”

“What kind of money problems?”

Chewing on a corner of his lip, Henderson said, “Fred’s still paying off Hannah for their divorce—she took half of everything they owned and even got part of his pension, I think. Good old community property.” Gerald lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “And now he’s got Bernice for a wife. She’s the daughter of some bigwig doctor back east. Used to expensive things. Fred tries to get them for her. And she’s hell-on-wheels with a credit card. Seems to think credit means free money.”

Bernice Ainger was thirty years younger than Fred. He’d met her at a convention, become obsessed with her and divorced Hannah to marry the younger woman. He’d been in his early fifties at the time and he’d been paying for that mistake ever since. So how did Fred connect with Simms?

“Funny,” Adam drawled, though he wasn’t the least in the mood for humor, “but every time I’m around Simms, he seems nervous—like he knows more than he’s telling. The thing is, I don’t believe that he’d intentionally get caught up in anything that might ruin his career.”

“Sometimes people do things on impulse.”

“No, this was planned for a long time. Otherwise the money would’ve been recovered.”

Gerald’s gaze shifted again, and Adam got the feeling he was wrestling with his conscience. For that, Adam respected him. Ratting on his friends didn’t come easy to Henderson. Or else he was just trying to save his own neck.

“I heard something once,” Henderson admitted, as the scent of dead fish wafted across the parking lot.

“What?”

“It was Simms, I’m sure it was, though he didn’t know that I was on the other side of the partition in the accounting room. I’d been in the vault, and when I came out I didn’t say anything. Simms was on the other side of that partition that separated Fred’s office from mine…you know the one I mean.”

Adam nodded, his heartbeat accelerating slightly. Now, finally, he was getting somewhere.

“Well, anyway, Simms was angry, really angry, telling someone off, but I didn’t see who it was. They were walking out the door.”

Adam could hardly believe his good luck. For the first time he was learning something new, that Simms
was
directly involved, but that he had an accomplice. Adam had to force himself not to shake every detail out of Henderson.

“Who was in Fred’s office when you went into the vault?”

“No one.”

“Not Fred?”

“Nope, he’d gone home for the day. Saw him leave myself.”

“And Kent?”

Henderson shook his head slowly. “He wasn’t there either, but I was in the vault for a good five or ten minutes. And when I came out, Simms and whoever he was talking to were on their way out.”

“And you don’t think Fred came back? Couldn’t he have returned to the office for something he’d forgotten, his keys or wallet or something?”

Henderson took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. A ring of sweat curled his thin sandy hair. “I don’t think so. But I don’t know.”

“So you think Kent, with or without Fred’s help, took some of the Puget West funds?”

“I can’t say. I don’t know much about Simms. He’s kind of a pretty boy, and I doubt he’d do anything to jeopardize his job. After all, he’s engaged to the boss man’s daughter.”

“
Was
engaged,” Adam said quickly, irritated that anyone, even Gerald Henderson, who probably had been out of touch with the gossip at Montgomery Inns for a while, would think that Marnie and Kent were still an item. “Past tense.”

Henderson stuck out his lower lip and shrugged. “Well, then, who knows. He might have got himself into a heap of debt somehow. That’s what happened to Fred. He’s hurtin’ for cash.” He hesitated a second, but then, like so many men when they can finally get something off their chest, Henderson added, “This might sound strange, but…well, I got the feeling that Simms was talking to a woman—not by what he said, but by the scent in the room. You know, like some kind of expensive perfume.”

Adam’s heart nearly stopped. “Would you recognize it again?”

“I…” Henderson shrugged, then shook his head. “Probably not.”

“But who do you
think
it was?” Henderson’s intuition might naturally come up with the right suspect.

“I said I don’t know. There’s got to be seventy-five women working in that building. Simms was probably on a first name basis with half of ’em. I couldn’t begin to guess.”

“Linda Kirk works in accounting,” Adam ventured, turning his thoughts away from a dark possibility.

“But she was home sick that day. In fact she was gone for over a week with the flu.”

Marnie. She’d been going out with Simms at the time…
But she had no reason to embezzle funds. Just because Marnie was involved with Simms wasn’t any reason to think that she would steal from her own father…no, that line of thinking was preposterous.

Henderson was obviously thinking he’d said too much. His face was flushed; his eyes showed a hint of panic. “Look, Drake, that’s all I know. Really.”

This time Adam believed him and stepped away from the truck.

Climbing quickly into the cab, Henderson flicked on the ignition. The engine sparked, died, then caught with a roar and a plume of foul-smelling exhaust. Above the rumble of the engine Henderson said, “Fred’s not such a bad guy, you know. Just got himself into a little trouble. And Simms—hell, what can you say about that guy?”

“And the woman?”

“
If
there was one. I’m not sure…” He rammed the truck into first, pulled the door closed and took off, spraying gravel and dust behind him.

Adam didn’t know if Henderson’s information had helped him or not. All along he’d thought Kent Simms was responsible for framing him and that he’d done it alone. Had he been wrong? Was Ainger or a mystery woman involved? Or was Henderson just blowing smoke? Trying to save his own tail?

Adam didn’t think so. The man was terrified that he’d slipped up by spilling his guts. So now, he had to try to locate a woman…a woman involved with Kent. But
not
Marnie!

Angrily Adam stomped out Henderson’s still-smoldering cigarette and watched as Gerald’s pickup wound down the dusty road. Without any answers, he walked across the gritty parking lot and slid into the interior of his rig. Spinning the steering wheel, he headed north to Seattle.

Next stop: Marnie’s place. She’d been avoiding him for too long. She’d had enough time to think things through. Besides, he needed her to help him get to the bottom of this.

And you want her.
Scowling, he twisted on the radio, hoping to drown out the voice in his head. A jazzy rendition of an old Temptations song came on the air. Yes, he wanted Marnie. Damn it to hell, he’d wanted her from the second he’d seen her trying to helm that boat in the middle of the storm. And wanting her was all right. Making love to her was okay. But falling in love with her could never happen.

Falling in love?
Now, why the hell did he think of that?

A
s she walked out of the boardroom, Marnie couldn’t believe her good luck! After all his blustering and blowing about company loyalty, Victor had actually signed a contract with her. Of course he’d tried to talk her into coming back to the company and she’d declined. And of course Kent had tried to maneuver her into a quiet corner to convince her that they should get back together.

Now Kent tagged after her. As if their last encounter hadn’t been violent and revolting. “Let’s just take a boat ride Saturday,” Kent suggested with that same all-American smile Marnie had once been dazzled by. “We can try and work things out while we’re sailing the
Marnie Lee
together. Come on, Marnie, what d’ya say?”

The man didn’t understand the word “no.” She didn’t bother answering, just continued down the hallway from the boardroom toward her father’s office.

“You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” Kent insisted, touching her lightly on the arm.

“Mad doesn’t begin to describe how I feel,” she said furiously, jerking away from him, her shoulder banging against the wall.

“You know, the boat’s half mine.”

“I’ll send you a check.”

“But the
Marnie Lee
was a gift. You can’t just buy me out. I won’t sell.”

“I don’t think you’ll have much of a choice, unless you want to buy my half.”

“I don’t have that kind of money!”

“Then you’ll have to borrow it, or we’re at an impasse.” She started down the hall again.

Kent swore under his breath as he raced to catch up with her.

“This has gone far enough, Marnie. You’ve had your chance at being independent. Hell, you’ve even had your little fling with Drake. But now I’m tired of playing your little games and—”

“How many times do I have to say it?” she declared vehemently. “It’s over!”

“Why? You seeing someone else?”

“None of your business.”

“Drake?”

“Leave me alone.” But he grabbed her arm, spinning her around. She braced herself for the same kind of assault as in the elevator. “Touch me and I’ll scream or worse,” she warned, and he must’ve believed her for he dropped his hand to his side and didn’t blow up as she’d expected. Instead he became deadly calm, his mouth tightening into a thin line of fury, his hazel eyes frigid as he stared at her. A chill slid down her spine.

“There you are!” Victor, who had been delayed by one of the architects, flagged her down. Ignoring Kent, he strode to Marnie and patted her on the back. “Nice presentation,” he said, finally noticing his executive vice president. “Went well, didn’t you think, Kent? Now, Marnie, if this doesn’t work out, you can always have your old job back.”

“If this doesn’t work out, we’re both in real trouble,” she joked back.

Kent didn’t crack a smile.

“Come on, drinks are on me,” her father insisted. “We’ll celebrate our new partnership.”

Marnie’s stomach did a peculiar flip at the mention of partnership, but she indulged her father. They sipped champagne and nibbled on hors d’oeuvres at a French restaurant with a view of Elliott Bay, and Victor wasn’t satisfied until the three of them had toasted their new alliance.

The fact that Kent had come along as well made Marnie uncomfortable, but she suffered through it because of Victor. She loved her father, and finally he’d really tried to give her the freedom she so desperately needed.

Two hours later, Victor drove her back to the parking lot where she’d left her car.

“It was like old home week with you here today,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

“Dad, I’ve only been gone a little while.”

“Seems like forever. Oh, well, we’ll just look to the future, right?”

“Right.”

He opened the door of her Ford and chuckled. “This isn’t your BMW, but I guess it’s better than the twenty-year-old Volkswagen I thought you’d purchase.”

“It’ll have to do. Looks like I’ll have to buy out Kent’s half of the
Marnie Lee.
”

“Don’t be too hasty, Marnie.”

“Or else he has to buy me out,” she said, lacing her fingers through her father’s. “I think Kent finally understands that I don’t love him, probably never did, and that I’ll never marry him. Now, if I could just convince you…”

“Ahh, Marnie,” her father said, smiling sadly. “I was only thinking of you, you know.” As she slid into the driver’s seat, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s good to have you as part of the team.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

She started the ignition, but Victor hesitated before closing the door. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from Drake, have you?”

“I thought you didn’t want his name mentioned.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, since you brought up the subject, you may as well know. I will be seeing him,” Marnie said, deciding that she had to be honest with her father from the beginning. Not that it was any of his business, but she wanted to start off on the right foot.

Her father’s face drooped. “I was afraid of that.”

“Trust me, Dad. I’m a big girl now.”

Glancing over the hood of the car, Victor sighed. “Whatever you do, Marnie, just don’t let that bastard hurt you.” He slammed the door shut, and as Marnie backed out of her parking space, she caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. He looked older and paler than he had earlier, as if all his vigor had been drained by the mere mention of Adam’s name.

She steered the car out of the lot and joined the thread of late-afternoon traffic clogging the city streets. Mist seemed to rise like ghosts from the streets as fog settled over the bay and crept steadily up the steep hills of Seattle.

Pleased that she finally had a paying client, she nevertheless felt a little niggle of guilt. Just how far away from Victor’s influence had she really gotten? And was she making her own decisions or allowing Adam to manipulate her? Seeking Montgomery Inns for a client had been Adam’s idea. Maybe, like the fog settling against the hillside, she was clinging to the past.

Refusing to be glum, she flipped on the radio and hummed along to soft rock as she followed the line of taillights leading out of the heart of the city. Pulling into the reserved carport of her apartment unit, she switched off the engine, her thoughts turning once more to Adam and her father. Oil and water. Suspect and victim. Her lover and her next of kin.

Raincoat tucked under her arm, she hurried up the exterior stairs to her second-story unit.

Adam was waiting for her.

She saw him seated against the wall, arms folded over his chest, and she nearly dropped through the floor. He glanced up at her. A warm grin stretched slowly across his face, and his eyes seemed a shade darker with the coming night. His black hair gleamed an inky blue in the glow from the security lights, and Marnie’s heart leaped at the sight of him.

“’Bout time you showed up,” he drawled, rising to stand next to her as she unlocked the door.

“I wasn’t expecting company.” She slid a glance his way, and her pulse skyrocketed at the sight of his angular jaw and sensual lower lip. “But that’s how you operate, isn’t it? Always showing up where you’re not expected.”

“Keeps people off guard.”

“Keeps you in trouble.” She shoved the door open. “Come on inside. You’ll talk your way in anyway. And this way maybe we can keep from being the gossip of Pine Terrace Apartments.” Inviting him inside wasn’t the greatest idea she’d ever come up with, but she felt like celebrating and the fact that he was here, sitting in the dark, waiting for her, touched a very feminine and romantic side of her nature.

He followed her inside. She heard his footsteps, and her heart thrilled at the familiar sound. “I thought I’d take you out to dinner.”

“A bona fide date?” she mocked, glimpsing him over her shoulder.

His grin slashed white against his dark jaw. “That surprises you?”

“More like knocks me off my feet.”

“Well, true, our relationship has hardly been flowers, wine, poetry—”

“Oh,
pleeease…
” She tossed her raincoat over the back of the couch and turned to face him. Her tongue was loosened by the champagne, and she was in a mood for honesty. “We don’t even have a ‘relationship,’ remember? Just ‘sex.’ Isn’t that what you said?”

He had the decency to frown. “I was oversimplifying.”

“Oh.” She lifted her brows, silently inviting him to explain himself.

“We’re partners.”

“Unwilling,” Marnie reminded him, but he touched her then, his fingers surrounding her nape as he drew her to him.

“Why do you keep fighting me?” he whispered.

Staring into his intense gold-brown eyes, she hesitated only a second. “It might be because you have a history of lies,” she managed, her voice trembling a little. “I have a long memory, Adam, and it seems that you hang around me whenever it’s convenient for you. Most of the time I think you’re interested in me because I’m Victor Montgomery’s daughter.”

His eyes searched her face. “It would be easier if I hated you.”

“Don’t you?”

“What do you think?” he said, his gaze delving deep into hers.

“I wish I knew, Adam.”

“Unfortunately, I find you the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”

“Unfortunately?”

“I never wanted to care about you, Marnie. Not even a little.” His eyes swept her lips, and her stomach knotted at the thought that he might kiss her. “Believe that I never intended to hurt you.”

“You couldn’t,” she lied easily, though her pulse was fluttering wildly. “I don’t care enough.”

“Good,” he replied with a knowing smile that accused her of the lie. “Then you’ll go out with me.”

Of course she would. Was there any doubt that, if she saw him again, she’d go along with any of his wild schemes? When Adam Drake was around, it seemed as if all of her hard-fought independence disappeared, that she willingly cast away any vestiges of being her own self-reliant woman. “Why not?” she said, “just give me time to change.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve dressed perfectly for what I have in mind.”

“I hate to ask,” she said, but decided that her white dress with a wide leather belt looked professional and tailored, dressy enough for a nice restaurant but a little too sophisticated for corn dogs on the beach.

Adam took her arm and whirled her around, propelling her back down the stairs to his car, some sort of four-wheel-drive rig that looked as if it should be tearing up some winding mountain road rather than racing from red light to red light only to idle in the city.

He threw the truck into gear and drove south, through the hilly streets toward the waterfront. Curling fingers of fog climbed over the water and into the alleys, creating a gauzy mist that seemed opalescent as it shimmered beneath the street lamps. Neon signs winked through the thin veil of fog, and the city seemed to shrink in upon itself.

Adam drove to the waterfront and they dined in a funky old restaurant located on one of the piers. Adam had requested a specific table with a window that offered a panoramic view of the dark waters of the bay. The bowed glass was angled enough that through the rising mist some of the city was visible. The tower of Montgomery Inns, Seattle, with its glass-domed ceiling, rose like a thirty-story cathedral on the shores of the sound.

“You must’ve hunted all over the city for this view,” she remarked as the waiter poured white wine into their glasses.

“Nope. I used to come here often when I worked there.” He hooked a finger toward the corporate headquarters of Victor’s empire. “Remember?”

She didn’t bother answering, just sipped her wine as the waiter concentrated on other diners. They ordered salmon, clams and crab, drank Riesling wine, and avoided any reference to Montgomery Inns. Some of Adam’s hard edges seemed to retreat in the flickering light from the sconces on the wall. Or was it the wine that caused her perception of him to change? Or maybe the cozy restaurant with its rough cedar walls and eccentric antiques caused her to be a little less critical, slightly nostalgic, more forgiving.

“I saw Henderson today,” he finally said, after the waiter had cleared their plates and they were left with two mugs of Irish coffee.

“And? Did he help you, ‘unravel the mystery’?” she quipped, unable to keep a trace of scorn from her voice.

Adam scoffed, swigged from his cup and swallowed slowly, his Adam’s apple moving sensually in his neck. Marnie tore her gaze away from his throat, but not before her stomach tightened a fraction and the shadows of the darkened restaurant seemed to close around them. She heard the clink of silver, the rattle of dishes, the soft laughter of other patrons. There was also the sound of soft-rock music drifting from the bar and the hint of smoke lingering in the air, but she was so aware of Adam that everything else seemed distant and faded.

Adam’s gaze touched hers for a heart-stopping second, and without thinking, she took a swallow of her drink, then licked a lingering dab of whipped cream from her lips.

A fire sparked in his eyes, and she cleared her throat. “You were talking about Henderson?” she prodded, hating the breathless quality of her voice. If only she could feel cool and sophisticated and completely immune to his earthy sensuality.