C.J. Miller - Taken by the Con

Neither one was a thought to harp on.

For a moment, Lucia regretted the simple black pants and blue blouse she’d chosen that morning. She hadn’t bothered with jewelry or makeup, and her one-inch black heels weren’t anything that screamed sexy vixen .

“Could I have a cup of coffee? I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m feeling foggy,” Cash said.

Georgiana straightened and grinned at him as if he was a genie granting her a wish. “Oh, of course. How would you like it?” She said the last two words while giving Cash a long, lingering look. Cash had Georgiana eating out of his hand after ten seconds. Then again, Cash’s charisma and charm were legendary. Even Lucia had fallen for it, however momentarily, the night before.

Georgiana was behaving as if Lucia wasn’t standing there or her presence didn’t matter. If Young’s assistant represented Holmes and White’s employee base, no wonder they’d been snowed. Lucia chastised herself for the nasty thought. What had happened at Holmes and White could have happened to anyone Clifton Anderson selected as his target.

“Sugar and a little creamer. Thanks,” Cash said.

Georgiana hurried off, not asking Lucia if she’d like something, as well.

“Was that necessary?” Lucia asked.

“Was what necessary?” He took a seat behind the woman’s desk and started looking around.

“Flirting with her. And you can’t do that,” Lucia said, setting her hand over Cash’s to stop him from searching Georgiana’s desk.

The heat that burned between them had Lucia stepping back. She had to keep these strong reactions to him in check.

“Come on, boss. This stuff is in plain view,” Cash said. “What’s the harm if I take a look?”

“Gray area,” Lucia said. Even if Georgiana were involved in the fraud, she wouldn’t have evidence that she’d leave on top of her desk with the FBI sniffing around.

“Relax. I’m not looking to get anything entered into evidence. I want a little more insider knowledge and to get a sense of the people we’re dealing with,” Cash said.

“The people we’re dealing with are the victims,” Lucia said.

“Anderson could have had people on the inside. A well-placed assistant with a lower-paying job who could be bought off,” Cash said.

Since Cash had worked with Clifton Anderson in the past, Lucia took note of the theory to explore later, though she had considered it herself. Many of the employees at Holmes and White had been questioned. Lucia would see if Georgiana was one of them.

Cash removed a small pen from his pocket. She recognized it as one of the FBI’s camera pens.

“Where did you get that?” she asked.

“Renee in IT gave it to me. She heard I was doing some interviews today and thought it might come in handy. Which it does,” Cash said.

No one in IT had ever given her a device to use in the field, at least, not without her prompting.

After snapping some pictures, Cash took a seat in a chair outside Young’s office. “Is this what it’s like to be an FBI agent? Running around the city and interviewing people?”

He made it sound easy. “Sometimes.” The work could be challenging and dangerous. Days like today were among the easier ones.

“Come on, I’m being friendly.”

“You’re making me hate that word,” Lucia said.

“Then give me a chance to get on your good side,” Cash said.

Everything he said sounded light and good-natured. It was almost harder to keep her dislike of him than to give in to his charm. “You don’t need to be on any of my sides,” Lucia said.

“There’s one side of you in particular I’ve seen and really like,” Cash said, looking at her mouth.

Her lips prickled and burned and she remembered how amazing kissing him had been. “You are something else,” Lucia said, trying to diffuse the blistering desire spreading down her body. She would not let down her defenses.

“I think she would agree with you,” Cash said under his breath, rising to his feet and taking the coffee from Georgiana’s outstretched hands.

Cash talked with Georgiana, leaning in and laughing at her lame jokes. Lucia pretended not to notice. Georgiana returned to her desk, wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to Cash.

“Call me,” Georgiana said. She ran her hand down his pale green tie, fisting it at the end and pulling him a little closer to her.

Cash looked at the paper and then slipped it into his suit jacket pocket. He looked pleased and interested in the cute redhead.

Annoyance burned through Lucia. Why was it so easy for some men to win over a woman?

Lucia could think of a dozen snappy remarks to make about the exchange, but she kept her mouth shut. Saying anything would make her sound jealous and juvenile.

“Tell me. I can hear you fuming,” Cash said, taking a seat next to her.

“I’m not fuming,” Lucia said. “I’m observing.”

“I’m establishing a rapport,” Cash said, the lightheartedness gone. “If she knows something about Young or the theft, I want to know it, too.”

They waited in silence for twenty minutes before Leonard Young returned to his office. Twenty minutes of thinking about Cash when she should be thinking about the case. Twenty minutes of replaying that kiss. Twenty minutes of every nerve in her body being aware he was next to her and dancing excitedly about it.

When Young returned, he had another man in tow.

“I thought it would be a good idea to have our in-house attorney present for this conversation. He’s worried about lawsuits,” Young said, ushering them into his office. “Nothing’s been finalized with our clients and we have a lot of angry people waiting for a settlement.”

Lucia’s bull-crap meter went off. A month ago, when the story went public, Holmes and White had publicly asked the FBI to assist and had reassured their team they’d be cooperative and open. A lawyer in attendance seemed like a defensive measure.

Holmes and White were likely conducting their own internal investigation. If they’d stumbled on a mistake, they’d want to keep that under wraps. It was Lucia’s job to bring everything on the level.

Young took a seat behind his large desk. His lawyer sat next to him, quiet and with a notepad poised on his lap.

Sensing this interview would be a waste of time, Lucia introduced herself and Cash and then launched into her questions. She had not conducted the initial interviews with Young, but she had read them. To this point Young had been helpful but cautious. That hadn’t changed.

Cash said nothing and his face was impossible to read. He appeared both indifferent and slightly amused.

“How is your investigation progressing?” Young asked.

Not as well as Lucia would have liked. Their team had tracked two percent of the stolen money to accounts within the United States. Those accounts had been frozen pending the FBI’s investigation. The rest of the money had disappeared. “We’re following every lead we have available.”

“I’ll tell you whatever I can,” Young said.

His lawyer shook his head and Young glanced at him. “I will tell you anything I can within reason.”

Cash didn’t write anything. He didn’t fiddle. He didn’t look around the office or sneak another look at Georgiana. His eyes stayed riveted on Leonard Young and his lawyer.

As Lucia expected, Young’s answer was “I don’t know” to almost every question. When he did answer, he gave disappointingly little information. For someone who wanted the money found, he was stingy with details. His behavior earned him a slot in Lucia’s “look into this much deeper” folder.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Young,” Lucia said after forty-five minutes of questions had yielded nothing new. “We’ll be in touch.”