Page 100 of Bad Seed

Larry’s sleep had been tortured. He was still coming to grasp with the information the Dallas detectives had given him and was slow getting ready for the day. He was finishing up his last cup of coffee when Liz called.

“Hello?”

“Larry, this is Liz. I need a word. Are you in the office or still in the penthouse?”

“Penthouse, but I was just getting ready to leave.”

“I’ll come to you,” she said, and hung up. “We’re going up,” she told the agents and led them to the private elevator.

Nobody was talking. Nothing needed to be said. Everyone in the car knew what was about to go down. When they exited into the foyer, Liz led them to the door and rang the bell.

Larry didn’t bother to look first, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

The six agents already had their badges in hand and were identifying themselves as they walked in.

“Larry Beaumont, you are under arrest on federal charges for theft, fraud, and intent to deceive your employer, Ray Caldwell. Your accomplices, Joe Ellis and Louis Freid, are being arrested as we speak.”

His mouth dropped as they were reading him his rights. The look of satisfaction on Liz Devon’s face punctuated the end of his scam. They took him out in handcuffs.

Liz rode down with them and walked them through the lobby, then watched them walk him out the door. The staff at the front desk were in shock, but they could tell by the look on Liz’s face that this came as no surprise to her. They didn’t ask. They didn’t comment. Word would spread soon enough.

Liz went to her office and sent a blanket memo to the staff divisions that they no longer had a manager and were to come to her for problems, but otherwise carry on.

Chapter 16

Biscuits were in the oven and Brendan was frying bacon when Harley walked into the kitchen. He paused long enough for a good-morning kiss.

“Hey, sleepyhead. How do you feel this morning?” he asked.

“Like a well-loved woman with a groove in her head should feel,” she said, and snagged a piece of bacon.

He grinned. “You’re welcome. Eggs? Scrambled or fried?”

“You make them, I’ll eat them. Just no runny yolks, please.”

“There you go again, darlin’, proving this was meant to be. I don’t do soft yolks, either. Coffee’s ready. Help yourself.”

She took a cup of coffee to the table and then held it between her hands, waiting for it to cool, watching the fluidity of his movements within a space most women were left to inhabit and thinking how much she loved him. But this man, her renaissance man, was also wild when it mattered, especially in bed.

Brendan caught her staring. “What?” he asked.

She blinked. “Er… I, uh, I was just thinking of what a well-rounded man you are. That’s all.”

He shook his head. “And I’m thinkin’ you just skirted the question with a well-rounded answer.”

“It’s all good, love… No, better than good. Fantastic. Aren’t those biscuits done yet? I dreamed about them when I had them at the hotel,” Harley said.

“Coming out now,” he said.

A few minutes later, he made their plates and carried them to the table, got butter and jelly from the refrigerator, and topped off her coffee before sitting down with her.

“Here’s to a good day with my Sunshine,” he said, and they began to eat, talking about everything from how she was going to get her things moved from Chicago to the time when their families could meet.

She laid down her fork and folded her hands in her lap, trying not to be despondent. “I hate that everything hinges around finding the rat in the barrel before we can get on with our lives.”

“The rat being the man behind the hits?” he said.

“Yes, and at this point, all of my hopes are pinned on the feds. It’s maddening not to know what’s going on, or if they’re gaining ground.”

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