The Christmas Clue

Matt just glared at her. “That won’t work.”

“What won’t?” she asked innocently.

“Insulting me.”

She scratched her eyebrow. Auburn eyebrows that didn’t match her now-chocolate-brown hair. “I was actually trying to goad you.”

“That won’t work, either. So, talk to me about this so-called evidence that’ll exonerate you,” Matt insisted. If there was anything to it, and that was a huge if, he could pass on the info to the authorities once she was in custody.

“Surveillance disks,” she answered. “Dominic records everything that goes on in every room. And I mean everything. Since the murder happened in his office at the estate, I’m sure some information about it will be on one or more of the disks.”

Matt didn’t even try to suppress a loud groan. “And I’m guessing there are plenty of these disks?”

“Hundreds in a vault in the basement. I have the code to get into the vault. That’s not the problem. The problem is, according to someone who’s familiar with the estate, Dominic only keeps each disk one year. That means if I don’t act fast, he’ll erase any evidence I can use.”

He leaned slightly closer. “That isn’t helping your case, you know.”

“You mean because if Dominic records everything, then the sheer volume will make it impossible for us to find the evidence?”

“You,” he corrected.

“You what?”

“You said it’ll be impossible for us to find the evidence. There is no us in this delusional plan, only you.”

“Oh, there’s an us all right.” She shook her head, and sent a lock of her chin-length hair sliding across her cheekbone. “The little blond-haired girl in that picture changes everything.”

“No. She doesn’t.”

And Matt was almost positive he believed that.

Cass Harrison apparently thought otherwise because she just stared at him.

“Okay,” he said trying a different angle. “Let’s suppose for argument’s sake that there is disk evidence. How do you intend to get it?”

“We will use equipment to jam Dominic’s disk surveillance feed. After that, we can gain access to the basement. Since covert measures are your specialty, that shouldn’t be a problem. Then, we’ll open the vault and search through the disks until we find what we’re looking for.”

Matt bypassed the last half of what she said and groaned again. “Equipment? What kind of equipment?”

“That’s another area where I’ll need your help. I don’t have access to the kind of equipment necessary to bypass Dominic’s state-of-the-art security system, and it’s not something I can buy.”

Matt really didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. “But I do have access?”

She made an of course sound. “Don’t make me quote questionably obtained intel reports about the recent rescue of an American businesswoman who was being held hostage in South America. The only way the military and the Justice Department could have gotten her out was if they’d used the exact kind of jamming equipment that we need.”

He scowled at her. “And you think the Justice Department just leaves this equipment unsecured so anyone can use it?”

“No. But I think you can get it if it becomes necessary. And guess what? That little girl in the picture makes it necessary.”

Matt leaned in. “Yet another example of totally faulty reasoning. Or maybe it’s just a lie.”

She groaned. “I wish you’d stop accusing me of lying.”

“Sorry.” An apology Matt definitely didn’t mean, and his tone conveyed that. “It’s just that I get a little testy when someone breaks into my house, holds a tranquilizer gun on me and then demands that I steal classified equipment, break ranks and join in a halfassed, stupid plan that would almost certainly get both of us killed.”

“It’s not a half-assed, stupid plan.” But then she paused, shrugged. “Okay, maybe it does have some half-assed, stupid elements to it, but I’m doing the best I can with what I have. And what I have is you, Matt Christensen. You’re a highly trained federal agent. You can get us into that estate.”

In most cases, that would be true.

But not this time.

Judging from the intel reports he’d read, Dominic Cordova’s estate was a fortress. With reason. The man had enraged at least a dozen people, criminals, who killed as easily as they breathed. And that kind of situation made a person paranoid about security.

“Why didn’t you just ask the authorities to check out Dominic’s place, huh?” Matt asked. “If the evidence is there, they could find it—legally.”

“First of all, the authorities wouldn’t believe me. And if by some miracle they did, they wouldn’t risk offending their new ally by requesting the necessary documents to do a search of his estate. Plus, I’m about ninety-nine percent sure there’s a leak in communications. I think Dominic may have an insider in the Justice Department, and this person might be feeding him official information.”

Interesting. Matt hadn’t heard that particular accusation. Perhaps because she’d just made it up. He certainly wasn’t about to assume it was true. “Is that a guess, or do you actually have proof?”

“Proof. I did a test a few days ago and phoned in some bogus info to a person I thought I could trust in the Justice Department. Then, I timed it. In less than an hour, Dominic received a call on his secure line at his estate. The caller spoke through a computer voice scrambler so I have no idea who he or she is, but the person relayed the bogus info verbatim to Dominic.”

Matt considered all of that and decided it could mean nothing. It did, however, warrant some further investigating. “Do I dare ask how you gained access to Dominic’s secure phone line?”

“No.” She had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “That’s not a good question to ask.”

If this entire conversation hadn’t been so frustrating, Matt would have smiled. But he doubted he’d be doing much smiling tonight. “How’d you ever hook up with Dominic Cordova in the first place?”

She angled her head and stared at him. “Is this small talk?”

“In a way.” Matt checked his watch. “I’m waiting on my friend to call back. If he doesn’t within the next ten minutes, I’m phoning the cops. I figure this is as good a way as any to pass the time.”

For a moment Matt didn’t think she’d answer. Strange, since she’d volunteered everything else. But then, he’d probably riled her with that threat to call the cops. Which wasn’t exactly a threat. He would call them.

As soon as Ronald verified that she was lying.

“Dominic,” she mumbled, saying his name as if it were a persistent infection. She thumped a tiny Santa figure dangling from the Christmas plant and sent the Santa swaying. “He sought me out, attending the same parties, the same social functions. He pursued me. At the time, I didn’t realize it was a setup, that he wasn’t interested in me nearly as much as my multimillion-dollar trust fund.”

“He’s that good an actor?”

Her sigh was laced with regret. “He’s that good, and I can usually spot a phony. My parents might have been wealthy, but they weren’t born that way. They were streetwise, and before they died they were always warning me about guys like Dominic.”

“But you missed the signs with him,” he pointed out.

“Obviously.”

She quickly looked away after her gaze landed on his bare chest, making him wish he’d taken the time to rebutton his shirt after he’d realized he had an intruder in the house. This was not good. Even with all the unreasonable demands, Cass Harrison was still a woman.

An attractive woman who had a unique way of reminding him that he was a man.

“I missed the signs because I was thinking with the wrong part of my body,” she explained. “It took me seven weeks to realize that Dominic wanted to use my money and business contacts to carry out illegal activities.”

Matt didn’t doubt that part, but he also believed that Cass had loved getting involved with a dangerous man. It was what bored socialites like her did. And he should know. Vanessa had done the same thing to him.

She’d loved his job. The danger of it. The excitement. It’d gotten her hot. But that heat had fizzled out very quickly when she grew bored with him and his lack of massive amounts of money.

That was something he had to accept. And it was a realization that still caused Matt to curse himself for ever getting involved with a blue-blood heiress in the first place. At least it was a lesson learned.

And one he wouldn’t repeat.

Ever.

Even if the heiress across from him was causing him to have a few lustful thoughts.

Cass pulled in a hard breath and stood. “You’re not going to help me, are you?”

“No.”

She slipped her hands into the back pockets of her well-worn jeans. It was a little maneuver that had her navy blue sweater tightening across her breasts and hitching up to expose an inch or two of her stomach. No bra. And how did he know that? Because the sides of her jacket were far enough apart that he could see the outline of her erect nipples.

Oh, man.

Why didn’t he just hit himself in the head? He shouldn’t be looking at her. She was as off-limits as any woman could possibly be. When this was over, he really did need to take some time and get laid.

“I can’t recover the evidence on my own,” she said, her voice a little quavery now. More than quavery. Feminine. Not good. That quavery feminine voice teased his protective instincts while her semibare midriff teased a part of him that needed no such teasing. “And if I do nothing, I have to stay on the run. Not exactly how I want to spend the rest of my life.”

He made a grunt of agreement and forced his attention away from that snug sweater. “You know the old saying about being between a rock and a hard place. Guess that’s where you are right now.”

She made a mimicking grunt of agreement, and while the sound was still reverberating in her throat, she pulled her right hand from behind her. Not slowly, either. She was fast. Damn fast. And her hand wasn’t empty, either.

She aimed a gun—a real gun—right at him. “I always carry backup,” she let him know.

“Hell,” he mumbled, and he silently chastised himself with some much-stronger profanity. How had he let the situation come to this?

Oh, wait.

He knew what had caused his lapse in judgment. It was her nipple-showing sweater and that quavery voice. He’d stupidly let them distract him, and now that stupidity might have some serious consequences.

Matt glanced at her and then took a better look at her weapon. He instantly recognized the model. A Kahr PM9. A trim 9 mm with a tiny three-inch barrel. Heck, the whole gun was only five inches long, so no wonder he hadn’t noticed it in what was no doubt a slide holster tucked in the back waist of her jeans. But Matt knew this was a case where size truly didn’t matter. It was a combat weapon and just as deadly as any gun in the wrong hands could be.

“This is a mistake,” he insisted. Not his best attempt at reasoning, but Matt was still berating himself for allowing the situation to escalate into this.

“A mistake? I don’t think so. I have a different saying for you—a woman’s place is behind the trigger. Guess that’s where I am right now.”

Man, she was as good with the wise comebacks as she was at distracting him. Too bad he’d have to be the one to make sure she was arrested. And it was really too bad that he didn’t like having to do that. It was his job to protect and defend, he reminded himself. But a part of him, a very small part of him, wouldn’t have minded if Cass Harrison had somehow been able to find evidence to clear her name. Especially since that would send Dominic to jail for the rest of his life.

“So, what now?” Matt asked her. “I’m your hostage?”

She nodded. “Temporarily. Take off your pants.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re going to sexually assault me?”

That earned him one of those glares and a nasty little huff. “You wish. I’ll use them to tie you up. I don’t especially want to go rifling around your place to find something to restrain you.”

Oh, so she did have a plan.

Such that it was.

Matt unzipped his pants, all the while looking for the opportunity to disarm her. It wouldn’t take much. Just a split-second distraction, and then he could launch himself at her. A tackle of sorts. And then he would call the authorities. Her time was up.

Stripped down to his shirt and boxer briefs, he extended his arm in front of him and dropped his pants on the kitchen floor.

In the three feet of space that separated them.

She scowled, probably because she knew it would be a major mistake to try to reach down and pick them up. Instead, she kept her gaze fastened on him and used her foot to drag the pants closer to her. She didn’t stop there. Cass began to back up, moving farther away from him.

The sound of the phone ringing sliced through the room. It was exactly the distraction he’d been waiting for. She automatically glanced at the phone mounted to the wall, and that glance cost her.

Matt launched himself at her.

She didn’t fire. In fact, she didn’t even attempt to shoot him. She turned, as if to run, but Matt latched on to her shoulder. His full weight slammed into her, and the momentum sent them both crashing to the floor. They landed between a pair of bar stools.

Somewhere amid the sounds of the struggle, he heard his answering machine kick it. “It’s Matt. Leave a message.”

Matt relied on his training. He turned, maneuvered and adjusted until he had her pinned down, and then he wrenched the small gun from her hand. Because her knee could quickly become a painful weapon, he literally pressed her entire body against the floor so she couldn’t move.

“Matt, are you there?” Agent Ronald McKenzie said into the answering machine. It was a call that Matt would have liked to answer, but there was no way he would let go of Cass now that he’d subdued her. Well, sort of.

He might have gotten her physically restrained, but she was hurling eye daggers at him and was mumbling some rather creative profanity through bursts of labored breath. It was obvious she wouldn’t give up and was probably already looking for another way to escape.

“I checked on our friend for you,” he heard Ronald say. “I found something.”

Matt couldn’t help it. That comment captured his complete attention. It obviously captured Cass’s, too, because she stilled, her body practically going limp, and her gaze drifted in the direction of the phone.

“Just asking the question seemed to make a few people uncomfortable,” Ronald explained, his voice noticeably laced with anxiety. “Still, I asked, and here’s the answer I got—it appears that six months ago Dominic Cordova did indeed adopt a baby. He named the girl Molly.”

Matt felt as if someone had slugged him.

Oh, man.

All he could do was lie there while Ronald continued.

“I hope I’m wrong, but I doubt it, so here goes. The adoption might not have been aboveboard. It’s all tied to that illegal adoption ring that the San Antonio PD recently broke up. And if you’re thinking this kid belongs to Vanessa, you’re right. The timing is dead-on. Vanessa did have a baby, and Dominic’s adopted child was born in the very hospital and at the very minute that Vanessa gave birth. But here’s the clincher, and believe me, it’s not a clincher you’re going to like.”

Matt looked down at Cass at the exact moment she looked up at him. He tried to brace himself for whatever Ronald was about to say, and judging from the sympathetic look that passed through Cass’s eyes, he was about to get some very shocking news.

“According to my source, Vanessa didn’t get involved with another man after you.” Ronald paused several snail-crawling moments. “If I were a betting man, I’d say yes, Dominic Cordova has your daughter.”

Chapter Three

“Well?” Cass challenged. “Do you finally realize I’m telling the truth?” But she dropped the snarky attitude when Matt groaned, rolled off her and landed on his back on the floor.

“I can’t believe this,” he said. And he kept repeating it, punctuating it with some profanity.

Cass tried to sit up, but he put his arm across her stomach to keep her down. “I know it’s going to take some time to sink in—”

His glare cut her off. “Don’t say anything. Don’t move,” he said, through clenched teeth. “And don’t you dare pull out another weapon.”

“Because you already have enough to deal with. Yes, I understand that.”

Besides, she had no intention of holding him at gunpoint. Not now. That phone call was exactly the impetus that could get Matt Christensen to cooperate with her plan.

Well, maybe.

Maybe he would go in an entirely different direction and try to turn all of this, including her, over to the authorities.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Because with Dominic’s recent pact with the powers-that-be, no one would be looking hard for evidence to exonerate her. Heck, they might even destroy those surveillance tapes to protect the tenuous relationship they had with a man who could help them catch bigger, meaner fish.

“Truth time,” Matt insisted, groaning and turning his head toward her. Unfortunately, that put their faces only a couple of inches apart. Practically eye-to-eye. “Did you doctor that photo?”

“No.”

He studied her a moment. “But you had reason to doctor it.”

“True, but if I hadn’t thought the child was your daughter, I wouldn’t have come here.” Because all that intimate eye contact was starting to distract her again, she looked away. “I figured…hoped,” she said, rethinking, “that you’d want to find Molly.”

“How?” he tossed at her like a gauntlet. “Your plan sucks, and it has crater-size holes in it. For instance, if by some miracle you do get inside Dominic’s estate, what then? Have you even thought beyond that point?”

“You bet I have. The plan is simple—we find the evidence and your daughter, and we take both her and the surveillance disks and get out of there.”

Because he still had his arm slung over her stomach, she felt his muscles tense. “My daughter.” A moment later he hissed out a breath. “If it’s really true, then why wouldn’t Vanessa have told me?”

Cass could think of a reason—maybe the snobbish Vanessa hadn’t wanted her middle-class ex-boyfriend to know because she’d had no plans to keep their child—but Cass didn’t voice that aloud. Judging from his silence and the way his jaw muscles had declared war on each other, Matt had already drawn the same conclusions.

“Look, I know it’ll take you awhile to come to grips with all of this,” she said to him. “But the truth is—we don’t have time to spare. Remember that part about Dominic recycling disks every year. Well, in eight days it’ll be a year since he murdered his business associate and framed me. I have it on good authority that he didn’t bother to erase those disks, probably because he’s too arrogant to believe he could ever get caught. We have eight days at the most to get the evidence, and each and every one of those days means that your little girl is living under the same roof with a man like Dominic.”

His gaze snapped to hers, and his teeth came together. “I don’t need that reminder.”

She wasn’t immune to that emotion she heard in his voice. A father’s concern. Even though she wasn’t a parent, Cass had no trouble imagining how she would feel if their positions were reversed.

“For what it’s worth,” she offered, “Dominic’s sister, Annette, has apparently been taking care of the child since the adoption. In fact, Annette’s the one who wanted a baby, and Dominic adopted Molly for her because she can’t have children of her own.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“It should. Annette’s physically handicapped and overly devoted to Dominic, but from everything I’ve heard about her, she’s also, well, human. And kind. I’ve never met the woman, but I don’t believe she’d hurt your daughter.”

Cass prayed that was true anyway. Dominic was Annette’s baby brother, and Cass figured if it came down to it, Annette would protect Dominic at all cost. Unfortunately, that now involved an innocent baby girl.

She pushed off his arm and got to her feet, not easily. Cass winced at the soreness in her backside and legs. She’d have bruises from their wrestling match, but then Matt likely hadn’t escaped injury, either. “You should probably get dressed so we can start making plans to leave.”

However, the moment the words left her month, a chill went down her spine. Not because of the leaving part—that was a necessity—but because the full impact of that call hit her. She’d let the news distract her, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.

“Just who was that on the phone anyway?” she asked.

“Ronald McKenzie.” Matt got up from the floor. No wincing for him. He accomplished it quite easily, then put her weapon on the counter next to the tranquilizer gun, picked up his pants and put them on. “He works for the FBI.”

That spine chill got significantly worse. “Oh, mercy.” She stepped in front of him. “Didn’t you hear that part about the leak in official communication’s channels?”

“I heard, but I trust Ronald.”

“Yes, but you can’t trust the people he questioned about your child.”

Matt opened his mouth and closed it. Cass could almost see the thought process happening in his head. But what she couldn’t determine was where exactly those thoughts were leading.

“You need me to get into Dominic’s estate,” she said, in case he was thinking about ditching her. “I’ve been there, and I know the layout. Without me, it’ll take you a lifetime or two just to find your daughter.”

He just stared at her.

“Okay, maybe not a lifetime,” she countered, when that stare crossed over to making her uncomfortable. “But if we do this right, it can be a quick in and out. An extraction, I believe you special agent guys call it. You could bring Molly home where she belongs.”

Matt zipped his pants. “Or I could simply ask Dominic Cordova to hand her over to me.”

It was an angle Cass had already anticipated, and she had a cautionary answer. “You could, but what happens if he refuses? The Justice Department won’t be on your side. You said so yourself. Dominic is their new best friend.”

He paused a moment and then shook his head. “You’re asking the impossible. I can’t break the law. I’ve sworn—”

“I know.” Best to nip the doubt before it could grow into a full-blown argument. “But if we think this through, we may be able to skip anything illegal. For starters, I know the head groundskeeper at the estate. He’s a semifriend, and he can hire us as part of the crew who’ll be decorating the estate for Christmas. That way we wouldn’t technically be breaking and entering.”

“No. We’d only be stealing. Last time I checked that was still a crime even for former debutantes.”

She hated that label and hated even more that it bugged her. And he knew it bugged her.

“You have a right to your daughter,” she reminded him. “And Dominic obviously isn’t planning on just handing her over, or he would have already done it. If he didn’t know beforehand, he certainly suspects now that the adoption was illegal. It was all over the news, and the lawyer who handled Molly’s adoption was arrested.”

“All of that could mean nothing.” But his body language told her that Matt knew she was right.

Cass pushed a little harder. “Here’s my suggestion. You ask for some vacation time. If your boss wants to know why, you can say it’s some sort of family emergency. Which it is. Then, you borrow the jamming equipment, and we can leave immediately. If all goes well, you could be back as soon as the day after tomorrow—with your little girl.”

“No,” he said, buttoning his shirt.

Stunned, Cass replayed that one word, hoping she’d heard him wrong. “No? To what part of the plan?”