Page 25 of Allie's Shelter

“That should do.” She smiled up at him, hoping he saw gratitude rather than the persistent ache of desire that was as inconvenient and unwelcome as a broken tooth.

However he interpreted her expression, he simply did an about face and walked away. She fell in behind him, much like she imagined his military team had followed wherever he led.

At the door to his office, he waved her in ahead of him. “Have a seat. Your login is there.” He pointed to a sticky note posted on the edge of the monitor. It was the closest thing to clutter on the big, glossy desk.

She didn’t remember him being this neat when they were kids. Sure, everyone had to grow up, but there was something detached and sterile about this place. “You don’t live here do you?”

“I told you as much.” He shook his head as if she’d disappointed him somehow. “You ready to tell me what’s going on?”

“In a minute.” She clicked the icon and waited for the web page to load. “Way before any of this started, I memorized the account numbers and passwords I need.”

“Of course you did.”

She glanced over and caught him staring at her hands. He hadn’t spoken with any irritation, more like fondness. Weird. And not what she should be focused on.

She paged quickly from screen to screen, not surprised when he pointed out the logo for an offshore bank he’d dealt with on a previous case.

“My boss said he didn’t need to know the details, since this charity fund and outreach was my pet project. My idea, my management, he told me.” She turned to face him, her blue eyes wide and sad. “Believing him about anything was my first mistake.”

She opened a new browser window and entered another account number. “For a few months, I thought everything was golden. Money came in, the amounts matching what he said the company would contribute from two specific departments.

“But one day I logged in to pay a catering bill and noticed a withdrawal I hadn’t made. A week after that, there was an amount equal to my paycheck transferred to my personal account. I called the bank and straightened it out.”

“Your boss was playing in the account?”

“I certainly didn’t make those bogus transactions.”

“And you think he was laundering money?”

“Yes. Since he was the only other person in the company on the account, I went to him first. He brushed it off as computer error and I wanted to believe him.”

“But you couldn’t.”

“No.” The screen changed to an independent cloud data storage service. “It’s a charity fund.” Her shoulders hitched on a sarcastic chuckle. “I didn’t want the company to come under fire as so many corporations and charities do. So I looked deeper, determined to find a reasonable explanation. When I examined the ebb and flow of the account, matching those numbers to my proposed budget, money laundering was the only explanation. I stored the screenshots here.”

The monitor was full of numbers, and a certain deposit was highlighted across the screen. Ross silently commended her for taking such good care of potential evidence.

“I researched this account number,” she tapped the screen. “And then I made a call. Imagine my shock when the bank was too happy to help me manage my money.”

“Someone set up an offshore account in your name?”

“Yup. But I was able to figure out the password. Bradley is—was—too confident in his scheme and a creature of habit.” When she leaned closer to the monitor, he found himself mesmerized by the elegant line of her neck. The shorter hair had been a momentary shock, but now he cataloged the benefits of easy access to the places he knew were sensitive. Crap. He should not be thinking about Allie’s sensitive parts.

A memory rolled over him like a tank, of her snuggling close as he nibbled on the spot right behind her ear. It had been summer, hot and sticky twenty-four-seven, with the buzz of insects trying to drown out whatever he’d had playing on the car stereo. He’d dreamed about that day more than once when he’d been alone and miserable on one mission or another. He’d dreamed of it more than once in the few years since he’d returned to a civilian life.

When you worked with a team, a good team, you got to know details, the tics that made up a person. Real, steady relationships were rare in Special Forces. The job came first and many spouses didn’t understand. In the dark corners of his own mind he always compared every woman to Allie. None of them held up. But he’d also compared Allie to the few wives who did stick, wondering what might have been if she’d only had the same courage and commitment. A senseless exercise since he’d had that answer every week that his letters from basic training went unanswered.

“This is new.”

Allie’s voice, a blend of curiosity and distress, pulled Ross away from the painful abyss of those memories. “What’s new?”

She moused over the area to highlight the transactions. “Someone moved money out of the stateside account.”

“You said—”

“I requested a hold on the funds before I confronted my boss last week. What makes it new is the account number. The money was going to that offshore account in my name, but this time the transfer went to a stateside account in Roberts’s name.”

“He’s probably on several corporate accounts at that bank.”

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