Intrusion (12 page)

She frowned. Joe Walker? Joe. Walker. Who—?

She gasped. “You mean security guard Joe? Why on earth would I give my card to him?” Understanding forced her stomach to her toes. “You…you think I stole the armor?”

The full significance of Audra’s accusation speared through her. Audra not only believed she’d stolen the prototype; she thought Margaret had framed her in order to do it. “What possible reason could I have for betraying you?”

Audra crossed her arms in front of her body and hunched her shoulders. “You love your daughter.” She blinked and looked away for a moment, her throat working convulsively. When she returned her gaze to Margaret, there was quiet acceptance in Audra’s eyes. “She’s everything to you. No price is too high to pay for her to get well, and I understand that. I can almost…admire you for it. I just…hope you held out for close to what the prototype’s actually worth.”

“It’s true that Noelle’s hospital bills are astronomical. And it’s also true that I’d do anything for her. Anything.” She reached for Audra. “But not at such a cost to you. I care about you far too much to—”

Audra shrank from her touch. “Selling the prototype would more than cover the bills at a place like Phoenix Children’s hospital.”

“No. I wouldn’t—that thought never crossed my mind. I had Noelle moved because her father…”

Russ.
A brick of unease lodged in her stomach. He’d been in her purse. Asking questions about the nature of her work.

The man with Audra shifted closer and spoke for the first time. “Who’s her father?”

“I…”

Margaret’s cheeks heated. For sixteen years Russell Coburn had remained her best-kept secret. They hadn’t yet talked about his publicly declaring Noelle as his daughter, and although she didn’t think he’d have come forward if he didn’t want to do so, Margaret hesitated to reveal his identity.

“He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Audra leaned between the seats and pierced her with a hard stare. “Who is Noelle’s father, Margaret?”

Margaret’s stomach twisted into knots. If she revealed his name, Audra would jump to conclusions. She’d condemn Russ without giving him the benefit of the doubt. How would he react to being dragged into this mess?

But she couldn’t lie. Not to Audra. When they’d first met, Audra had been so fragile, unwilling to discuss anything outside of her work. Little by little Margaret had coaxed her out of her shell—not by much, but just enough to forge an almost mother-daughter like bond between them.

Margaret closed her eyes, let out a breath. “Russell Coburn.”

Audra flinched and rocked back in the seat. “As in Coburn Industries?” Her hands fisted in her lap. “Nanodyne’s biggest competitor for defense contracts. That Russell Coburn? He’s Noelle’s father?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did he talk you into it, then? Give you empty promises in exchange for betraying a friend?”

He wouldn’t do that.

She wanted to shout the words, to have one hundred percent conviction in them, but something held her back. Was she guilty of putting too much faith in him?

Tears clogged her throat, but she refused to let emotion cloud her judgment—what if this little wiggle of doubt, that tiny prickle of suspicion was wrong? She wouldn’t condemn Russ until she knew the truth. Until then, she’d believe he’d been honest with her.

“Russ wouldn’t have stolen the armor,” she said. “Coburn Industries is successful in its own right. You have to believe if I thought he was guilty, I’d be the first to accuse him.”

“Then let us talk to him.” The man next to Audra no longer glared at her, but his intense scrutiny still managed to unsettle Margaret.

She wrung her hands. “No. Let me. Please.”

A muscle leapt in his jaw. “So you can tip him off?”

“Absolutely not. If he did this…” Then she was a fool. A twisted, pathetic fool, who didn’t want anyone else to bear witness to her shame. She turned to Audra. “I need to go alone. I want him to have to look me in the eye when I confront him. And he won’t do that if he has an audience.”

Audra stared at her for several seconds—long enough to convince Margaret she’d refuse. But then, she shot her a curt nod. “We follow you to his house, though. Park nearby.”

“Why, you don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust him. You…I want to trust. I’m not sure I can yet, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to stay safe.”

Okay. That was no less than she deserved. Maybe she’d get lucky and find business had taken Russ out of town. She was in no hurry to find out just how gullible she might have been.

***

Walker was dead.

Ivan should’ve known better than to trust that imbecile with such an important task. He’d wanted both Dr. McCain and Cameron Scott out of the picture. If they would’ve faded quietly into the background, Ivan would have been content to leave them alone, but he couldn’t take the risk that they would find the armor before he did.

He pounded on the desk. “I want you to find McCain and Scott and bring them to me.”

“Sir.” Dejan cleared his throat. “The armor just went up for sale on the black market.”

He handed Ivan a sheet of paper and he took it, his nostrils flaring at the sight of the faxed photograph of the armor. Heat rushed to his face. He grabbed the pencil holder off his desk and hurtled it at Dejan’s head.

The man quietly ducked the object. “Would you like me to set up a meeting with the seller, sir?”

Dejan had come to Ivan a year ago. Like him, he was a Serbian national with dual citizenship to the United States and sympathetic to Ivan’s cause. He was also an exceptional asset and a genius at obtaining information from the underground. Unfortunately, Dejan had failed to stop Ivan’s armor from leaking its way to the black market.

His.
He’d waited patiently for its completion. He’d shed his sweat, his angry tears over his sacrifice—trapped in America when he longed for home. His family had paid with their blood to get him this far.

Victory for Serbia was in his grasp. He couldn’t lose that over some greedy bastard whose sole motivation was money. What good were riches if everything you loved was gone?

Ivan had nothing unless he brought the armor back to Serbia and reunited Kosovo. No price was too high to pay to achieve the deepest longing in his heart. But he wouldn’t pay it in cash. No, Serbia had already paid billions in blood and treasure.

If the United States of America hadn’t sided with the Albanians, his family might still be alive. They’d helped strip Serbia of Kosovo and were as much to blame. The armor was repayment of their debt. They owed him. Owed his nation.

He spun in his chair and snatched up the phone. “I’ll make the call.” He flicked a hand at Dejan. “Trace the number. Find out who the seller is.”

A fix on the thief’s identity would make the retrieval of the armor much more expedient. Less risk, less mess. Ivan could be on his way to Serbia before the week was out.

He dialed the ten-digit number then leaned back in his chair to gather a long breath in his lungs.

“Yes?” The deep voice on the other end of the line didn’t identify itself. He hadn’t expected it to.

“I hear you’re interested in unloading a certain prototype in your possession.”

“You heard right. The price is fifty million dollars. Firm.”

Ivan choked on the saliva that caught in his throat. “Excellent,” he wheezed. “How soon can we make the deal?”

“Give me your number. I’ll call back with the details.”

As soon as Ivan rattled off his secure cell number, the line went dead. He clenched his jaw and turned to Dejan. “Did you get it?”

Dejan shook his head. “Sorry, sir. Not enough time.”

Ivan shoved the phone off his desk. It crashed to the floor, the receiver bouncing out of the cradle.

He’d been deluding himself; a face-to-face meeting was inevitable. But only one of them would come out of it with the prototype—and their life.

***

“You sure you can do this?”

Margaret nodded to Cameron. They’d finally been introduced when she’d pulled to the side of the road, half a block from Russ’s house.

“Good.” Cameron depressed a button on a small silver gadget and handed it to her. “This is a mini digital voice recorder. Keep it on and in your pocket. We’ll wait here until we see you give us the all clear. Meet us back at your house.”

She took the recorder from Cameron and slipped it into the pocket of her navy blouse. With a breath to steady her quaking stomach, she straightened from the open window of Cameron’s rusted out pickup and walked to her vehicle. She slid behind the wheel, and drove up to the house, parking the van in the massive circular driveway.

Smooth asphalt met the heels of her loafers as she exited the car. She moved towards the steps, noting how her ten-year-old transportation made a striking contrast against the backdrop of Russ’ two-story mansion nestled on the side of Camelback Mountain.

In all these years, she’d never once dared to come here. Her legs trembled as she climbed the wide stone steps. Should she ring the bell? Knock? Maybe she should have called first.

No. Bad idea. Calling would have alerted Russ to the reason for her visit and she needed to see his unguarded reaction when she confronted him with her suspicions.

Please, God, let them be untrue.

She wanted him to laugh it off, to take her in his arms and say, “Mags, my darling, what utter rubbish,” in that clipped, urbane voice of his. And then they’d both run off to the hospital where Noelle would awaken and lay eyes on her father for the first time.

Fairytales. Forty-six years old and she still believed they were possible.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, reached up to ring the bell. Its chimes’ echoed through the house, their deep knell striking hard to her belly. Moments passed, ticking off at a snail’s pace.

He wasn’t home. She’d missed him. She turned but froze when she heard footsteps approaching the door. It swung open.

“What are you doing here?” Russ’s brows pulled into a frown, but the rest of his face smoothed into a mask of neutrality. “It’s not Noelle, is it? I spoke to Dr. Henning a few minutes ago and he said she was good. The same, but good, nonetheless.”

“Y—you spoke to Dr. Henning?”

Her heart leapt. He did care about Noelle.

“Of course.”

“I just—well, you haven’t called, haven’t stopped at the hospital for days. I’ve left several messages—”

He sighed. “Margaret, I’m a very busy man. Coburn Industries has many projects that need my attention. It’s a lot to juggle without throwing you and Noelle into the mix.” His voice softened, smudging the rough edges. “I’m doing the best I can, Mags. Having a…family is an adjustment for me.”

“A family?” She bit her lip. “Do you really mean that?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

She tipped her head, mashing her lips together. Why did she have to ask him about the armor? A man who cared about family would not weaken his integrity with such a betrayal.

But Cameron and Audra were down the street waiting for answers. If Margaret didn’t get them they’d confront Russ without her. She couldn’t have him thinking she didn’t trust him.

Just do it. Get it over with. At least you’ll know for sure.

“Do you mind if I come in for a minute?”

His mouth turned down. Frown or scowl? “I’m on my way to the office.”

“I know. It will just take a minute—and I’d rather not talk about it while standing out here.”

His thick brow arched. “Sounds important.”

He stepped back, allowing her entrance to the marbled foyer. She wandered into the nearby living room with its gleaming wood floors and ornate area rugs. A granite fireplace took up a good section of one wall and drew her attention to the trio of silver picture frames positioned on the mantle.

All three had one common denominator—Russ with his arms around a stunning blonde.

She tried to shrug it off—so what, she’s a huge part of his past—but a sharp pain sliced across her heart nonetheless. “You still have pictures of Kate?”

Russ angled his head, spearing her with narrowed eyes. “Is that what you came here to ask me?”

“No.” But she deserved an answer, didn’t she?

His hand closed around her wrist and tugged her away from the fireplace. “I shouldn’t have to justify the photos on my mantle to anyone.”

She flinched at his razor edged voice, and the cut across her heart began to bleed, until it pooled in her stomach, mixing with the acid there.
Ask him. Now’s your chance.

“Did you hear about the theft at Nanodyne?”

“Of course. It’s all over the news.”

She nodded. “Do you know anything about it?”

Russ’s body stiffened, he pushed her hand aside. “Why would I know anything about it?”

“Someone used my ID card to access the vault—”

A muscle ticked to life in his jaw, cutting off the rest of her words. “What are you implying, Margaret? That I stole your card?”

His lips pulled taut, the corners of his mouth weeping downward.

She studied his eyes but they gave nothing away. Their mocha brown color wasn’t flat, but neither was it swirling with turbulence. His pupils weren’t dilated—they were neutral—and though his mouth showed disappointment, maybe even hurt, the muscle in his jaw still ticked off his indignation.

Which one was the true emotion?

Her heart stuttered and for a moment she couldn’t speak. When she did, the words scraped past her lips in little more than a whisper.

“You’re right. It’s silly. But I had to know for sure.”

Russ edged close to her, touched his finger to her chin and tipped it up with a gentle caress. “And now that you’re here?”

Now that she was here, everything hurt. Her heart, her brain, her eyes from the sting of tears. What was the truth? When he looked at her like that, with lust darkening his eyes, she could almost convince herself that knowing didn’t matter.

She licked her dry lips. “I believe in you, Russ.”

His face lowered, until his mouth was inches above hers. “Mags.”

She cried out at the whisper soft sound of her name on his lips. Then he closed the short gap between them and covered her mouth with his.