Kay David - Obsession

“A problem?” His voice rose slightly. “Oh, no, there’s no problem. Unless you think not having any funds to cover the check presents a problem.”

EMMA SWALLOWED, her throat suddenly tightening. “It hasn’t gone through?”

“Not as of this morning. I got our list of potential problems when I came in, and it was at the top. There were no funds in that account as of Friday at 7 p.m. I think you’d better talk to Felicity and find out exactly what the other bank said. And then you’d better contact Mr. Santos.” He stopped again, then spoke. “You haven’t traded on that account yet, have you?”

“No.” She hated to explain, but she didn’t have a choice. “He came last week to execute a trade. I didn’t have some information he’d requested, though, and he didn’t want to do the deal until he had that packet.”

“Well, you’d better thank your lucky stars it worked out that way. Otherwise this conversation might be going down a much different track.”

Emma’s stomach took a dive. “I understand.”

“Then you’ll take care of this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Absolutely. I’ll handle it, Christopher. Immediately.”

RAUL CLIMBED into the rented Range Rover and started the engine. His SUV was still in the repair shop and probably would be for the next six months. As often as accidents happened in Santa Cruz, he would have expected faster service; then again, this was South America. The parts had to be imported, and the skilled labor necessary to install them was scarce. He had to wait his turn. In the meantime, the Rover would actually work out better, he decided. Kelman would have no idea now what Raul was driving.

He made his way through the convoluted traffic circles to Las Palmas, the suburb where Kelman lived. He tried to concentrate, but his thoughts were on Emma more than they were on the traffic. Since the last time they’d been together, she’d turned down all his invitations, and his frustration was growing. How could he find out what Kelman was doing if Emma continued to avoid him? He cursed himself for the kiss he’d stolen; the taste of her lips still lingered and the smell of her perfume haunted him at night. It’d been a mistake, and a big one. Getting close to Emma-hell, being attracted to her as he was-definitely muddied the waters. He’d have to watch himself in the future.

The entrance to Kelman’s subdivision came into view, and Raul turned the big SUV left, his thoughts shifting back to where they should be. It’d been easy to find out about the mansion Kelman bought, because there were only two Realtors in town who handled expatriates. Prepared to go to them both, Raul had lucked out with the first one. The agent had bragged about the sale, even though it hadn’t been hers. She’d been very helpful, in fact, even driving him past Kelman’s house to show Raul what he could get for his money when he decided to buy, as he’d implied to her he would.

The subdivision wasn’t huge, but the houses certainly were. Mostly stucco with pools and lush landscaping, the compounds were surrounded by towering brick fences that marked each property’s perimeter. They kept out everyone and everything, including prying eyes.

Raul eased down the street until he was almost opposite Kelman’s home. On the sidewalk just outside the wall sat a tiny shack. It housed a series of guards whose primary task seemed to be visiting the maid next door. The only break in the brick came where the driveway intersected the fence. A set of double gates, made of iron and highly ornate, led inside to a garage. Raul knew the layout of the house and yard.

He had been inside twice.

Driving by slowly, he glanced toward the guardhouse. The guard was inside. Asleep. Raul circled the block, then parked, along with a line of waiting mothers, in front of a nearby school. Kelman would be out sooner or later.

Within a very short time, a horn sounded inside the gates, and the guard jumped up to open them. A shiny green Jeep-without any scratches-slipped through them a second later. Raul let several cars by, then he pulled into the street and followed a safe distance behind the Jeep.

Twenty minutes later, both vehicles pulled up outside the Banco Nacional.

Raul watched as Kelman exited the Jeep and headed up the sidewalk. He walked with a purposeful stride and rudely brushed off the Quechua, who had the misfortune to approach him with her palm outstretched. The bright spring day sparkled as he entered the bank through the side door, the door that led directly to Emma’s office.

EMMA’S HAND shook as she disconnected the line, then reached out to redial her own office number. Felicity answered after three rings.

Emma spoke quickly. “Felicity, when you called that bank in El Paso to check on the Santos account, what exactly did they say?”

The secretary answered in Spanish, and Emma interrupted her impatiently. “In English, Felicity, please!”

Ignoring Emma’s request, the young woman spoke a second time, still in Spanish. “You have a visitor, Ms. Toussaint,” she said. “I’m telling you in Spanish because he’s sitting right here. He’s very unhappy that you are not in your office.”

“Who is it?”

Instead of giving his name, the secretary described the man. She clearly didn’t want to let him know she was talking about him. “He’s older,” she whispered, “with short gray hair. He looks…intense.”

“Did he give you his card?”

“Sí.”

“Is it William Kelman?”

“Sí, sí, exactamente.”

Emma closed her eyes. God, why had he come in now? When she wasn’t even there. When everything was going wrong. She wanted to cry that the timing was bad. On the other hand, if there was a problem with Raul’s account, she had a feeling Kelman’s dividend could more than make up for the difference.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke rapidly. “When we hang up, tell the gentleman I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Offer him coffee or wine or whatever he wants, but for God’s sake don’t let him out of there. Do you understand?”

“Sí, sí.”

“Okay, now tell me about the bank in El Paso. In Spanish, please.”

“I called them, and they said there were no funds in the account, that it often ran close. They expected a deposit by the end of the day.” Her voice turned fearful. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You told me they said everything was fine.” Emma spoke through clenched teeth.

“That’s what they said.” The girl sounded near tears. “They said it would be fine, so that’s what I told you.”

“In the future, I need the details. I need to know exactly what they say, all right? Not your interpretation.”

Crestfallen, yet clearly relieved, Felicity answered, “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”

“Good. Now please give Mr. Kelman the message, then I want you to call Raul Santos and tell him I need to speak with him. Set up a meeting at any time and place he wants, but make it today. If he asks, tell him I need to firm up some details about his trade.” She paused. “I really need to talk to him, Felicity, so I don’t care how he wants to arrange it. Just make sure I get to see him today. I have to.”

A second later, Emma hung up the phone, then ran to her closet, tearing off the robe she had on and grabbing the first dress her hand fell on. In five minutes, she was flying down the stairs and in another ten, after a wild taxi ride, she was opening the door to her office.

William Kelman rose when he saw her, his blue eyes flicking over her in a silent appraisal.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.” Trying to appear calmer than she was, Emma crossed the room and held out her hand, smiling.