The Rival Page 8

  As was he.

  Selfishly, he hoped that whatever they found wouldn’t destroy the tentative truce they’d made tonight. But more important, he needed to make sure the truth didn’t implode on him before his mother’s Christmas wedding.

  Seven

  Seated in a private meeting room at the Mesa Falls Ranch guest lodge, April Stephens reviewed her notes as Devon Salazar continued talking.

  She’d purposely taken a high-back leather chair facing away from the spectacular view of the Bitterroot Mountains. She might not have time to indulge in the outdoors again during this trip, and she didn’t want to tempt herself with the sight of those peaks. Instead, she grounded herself in the space around her, the warmth of the crackling fire in the hearth and the calming decor. The meeting room was sleekly understated in pale grays and cream, the furnishings not detracting from the real visual interest of the snowcapped mountains outside the wall of windows.

  Her client was paying her firm well, and she wouldn’t disappoint him. She’d been fortunate to have this opportunity to work with a powerful and high-profile figure like Devon Salazar in the first place. Her agency’s senior financial investigator had a death in the family and her boss hadn’t wanted to turn down the business. He’d offered April a serious incentive on this case.

  Crack the secrets of Alonzo Salazar and she’d get a promotion. That meant more money, more travel and more opportunities to escape the responsibilities of the smothering home life weighing her down more every day.

  April would not fail. She’d maxed out her credit cards buying a few high-end outfits to get through this week, needing to look the part of a senior staffer.

  Had that been pathetically self-indulgent? Or a wise act of self-care that would put her more at ease with the well-heeled crowd that could afford to stay in places like Mesa Falls Ranch? She didn’t know. But the buttery soft wool of the jacket she was wearing made her feel like a million bucks. And it was a good thing, because she dreaded sharing some of her findings with Devon. What if he didn’t like what he heard? Would he put a halt to the investigation?

  Now, as he brought her up to date about “Regina Flores”—the woman April had warned him about—she took notes by hand on a legal pad. Apparently he’d uncovered the woman’s real identity: she was none other than the elusive Georgiana Fuentes, living and working right here in Montana. Which was most certainly not a coincidence, given that Devon was researching his father’s book.

  The book that had ruined Georgiana’s life.

  April remembered the sudsy read well. Hollywood Newlyweds by A. J. Sorensen had been a huge bestseller at a time when April read anything and everything she could get her hands on. She’d gobbled that book up, and had followed the tabloid headlines afterward when the supposedly fictional story turned out to have a basis in real life.

  But no one in the media had seen Georgiana in years. So for her to pop up here, using a fake identity and trying to get close to Devon, was about as ominous as April could imagine. Unfortunately, her client didn’t seem to share her concern.

  “Georgiana invited me to contact her directly?” April asked him now, glancing up at him from across the small conference table.

  He was uncommonly handsome, tall and well built, with light brown hair and attractive green eyes. He had an easy manner that made him a natural leader—the kind of man people would want to follow. Not that she was in the market for romance—far from it. But if she had been?

  Yum.

  The fact that he’d taken a marketing start-up founded by two brothers and grown it to a globally recognized leader in the social media environment appealed to her on an intellectual level, as well. Studying business accounting and working in financial investigations had given her an appreciation for the savvy it took to do something like that.

  “She prefers to be called ‘Regina.’ And, yes.” He slid a paper across the table toward April, and she noticed how the sleeves of his black button-down were rolled up. “We would like to keep her real identity private. The longer Georgiana stays out of the spotlight, the more likely my father’s connection to the book will, too.”

  The “we” was not lost on April. Something in his tone gave her the idea that he felt protective of the woman. Guilt, perhaps, since his father’s book had sent Georgiana’s life into a tailspin? Or was there something else at work?

  She planned to proceed carefully with the woman.

  “Certainly.” She tucked the contact information into a file folder. “I’ll reach out to her as soon as we’re done here.”

  “So my father was paying for a nominee service to collect his royalties on Hollywood Newlyweds?” Devon asked, returning to the information she’d given him earlier in the meeting. He flipped through web search results on a tablet before spinning his screen to show her a few prominent agencies.

  “Yes.” She’d invested far more hours than she would bill him to confirm it. “He set up his pen name like a corporation and gave it a director. The company collected monies from the publisher, and the nominee service oversaw the transactions and made sure taxes were paid.”

  A nominee service was extremely expensive, but it provided an unparalleled level of privacy.

  “But the service must have expired with my father’s death?” Frowning, Devon set the tablet on the sleek birchwood table. “There was nothing about that in the will.”

  “The service was paid for in advance. Given the precautions Alonzo took in order to keep his name away from the novel, I suspect he left explicit instructions for the royalty income after his death.” April had chased the lead as far as she could for now, but she wouldn’t give up. “Arrangements for future disbursements may already be in place and you weren’t aware because you aren’t a beneficiary. The other possibility is that the nominee hasn’t learned of your father’s death yet.”

  “Months after the fact?” Devon sounded skeptical. He glanced up from his tablet, one dark eyebrow raised.

  “It’s conceivable your dad only needed to touch base with the service once a year at tax time.” She hesitated before sharing her biggest concern, not wanting to give him any reason to shut down this job. “And while I’m prepared to keep searching for information, you should know that in my experience, searches like this uncover illegal activity about fifty percent of the time.”

  Even though she hadn’t taken the lead on an investigation before this one, she’d been in the weeds on similar cases at her firm for two years. And although there were highly reputable nominee services, the industry attracted its share of the criminal element.

  “I appreciate the warning.” Devon shut off his tablet and leaned back in the chair across from her, the afternoon sun gilding his features. He templed his fingers together, propping his chin on them. “My father obviously had a secret life we knew nothing about, but I still hold out hope that he had more altruistic reasons for hiding that income.”

  “So you’re certain you want me to keep searching?” she clarified, needing his blessing before she unearthed news that could be upsetting on a personal level, or that had the potential to stir legal interest in the case.

  “Absolutely. Whatever my father was up to, I need to know about it. And the sooner the better, April, so if you are in need of additional resources, don’t hesitate to come to me.”

  She felt the thrill of victory at his words. She still had the job. The doorway for that promotion remained open.

  “Understood.” Hope filling her, she closed the leather cover over her legal pad and laid her pen on top of it. “I’ll contact Regina Flores first, then begin contacting the owners of Mesa Falls Ranch to explore their connection to your father.”

  “And you’ll continue looking into the nominee service?” he prompted, his words reminding her that she was getting into dicey terrain.

  That information was well protected.

  “I’ll do everythin
g in my power to find answers for you,” she vowed, knowing she had to make it work.

  “Very good.” Standing, he ended the meeting with a handshake. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

  As he left the room, April’s gut knotted tighter. How would she shake information out of a nominee service that sold complete anonymity to its clients? Her better hope was prying answers from Regina/Georgiana. Or the owners of Mesa Falls Ranch.

  As she packed the file and her pen in her bag, April’s gaze veered out the meeting room windows toward the mountains. One day, she’d have the kind of life that allowed her the freedom of wide open spaces and fewer responsibilities. A life where she didn’t need to constantly walk the tightrope between taking care of her mom and hiding her mother’s increasing trouble from the world.

  Until then, she would just keep her focus on the task at hand. Starting with Regina Flores.

  * * *

  Three days after her night with Devon, Regina was keeping her eye out for him in the great room at the main lodge, knowing he’d arrive soon.

  She’d just finished a snowshoe trek with a group of new ranch guests. Her duties as a trail guide had quickly expanded from leading horseback rides to hosting other winter activities on the trails. With the huge influx of guests arriving for the launch event this week, all of the staff had been tapped to work extra hours. Now, as she transitioned her group of guests from the snowshoe activity to a whiskey tasting party in the great room, she would finally have her first evening free since the sleigh ride with Devon.

  “The bourbons are on the bar and the scotches are on the buffet,” she explained to an older couple puzzling over where to go next in the growing crowd.

  Fires burned brightly in fireplaces at either end of the post-and-beam-style room. A huge antler chandelier hung low over a game table already filling with guests comparing tasting notes on preprinted cards. A solo guitar player sat in a high-backed stool near a stuffed grizzly bear. The scent of barbecue from the hors d’oeuvres being offered by passing waiters mingled with fragrant woodsmoke.

  Regina took a bottled water from a silver tub full of ice near the whiskey display. Her cheeks were warm from the change in temperature after being outdoors for hours. She looked around the room, and somehow felt Devon behind her even before she turned to see him standing by the bar.

  Her pulse quickened at the sight of him.

  He wore dark jeans and leather loafers, but unlike most of the other men wearing flannel shirts or sweaters, he’d paired his denim with a white button-down and a gray tailored jacket. He didn’t need a tie to appear like a man in charge.

  Three days hadn’t done anything to dampen Regina’s hunger for him. But she’d spent every one of those days reminding herself that she needed to be wary with a Salazar. That she couldn’t simply follow a compelling attraction to him; they had a far more complicated relationship.

  But right now, seeing him again, she could only think about what it had been like to be bracketed in his strong arms. To feel the intense passion. To melt under his kiss.

  By the time he arrived at her side, her breathing was fast and shallow.

  He leaned closer to speak words for her alone. “If I’d known it would be three days before I saw you again, I wouldn’t have been so quick to let you leave my cabin.”

  A thrill shot through her—both at his nearness and at the idea that he’d missed her. Wanted her.

  Her skin tingled with awareness and he hadn’t even touched her.

  “Buildup to your launch event is keeping all the staff busy.” She opened her water and took a cooling sip. “I had no idea the ride two days ago would turn into an overnight event.”

  His gaze lingered on her lips. “I didn’t know, either, or I would have signed up for it myself.” The heat in his green eyes distracted her. It made her forget what they’d been discussing, even quieted her years-old need for revenge. The strong reaction he incited both tantalized and worried her. She couldn’t afford to let her feelings distract her from her goal.

  Around them, the strains of a cowboy folk melody, the clinking of glasses and rumbled laughter faded until she could only hear her own breath.

  “Are you free now?” he asked, his hand landing lightly on the small of her back.

  “I planned to meet with—” She lowered her voice. “That is, I have a call scheduled from our mutual contact twenty minutes from now.”

  She’d been trying to find a time to speak to the private investigator, eager to get back on track with what she’d come to Montana to accomplish.

  “Of course.” He nodded, his hand still on her back. “She told me she’d been trying to reach you. Until then, maybe we could step out into a quieter spot.”

  Capping her water, she let him guide her through the crowded room. A pair of younger women stopped her to thank her for helping them with the snowshoe trek—or possibly to ogle Devon—but eventually she and Devon emerged from the great room to head toward the saloon.

  He bypassed the bar and continued down a hall that led to the bowling alley and screening room. The sound of an old Western film filled the corridor for a moment before he steered her into a den that functioned as a small library. The three natural log walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, while the fourth wall featured a stone fireplace flanked by tall, narrow windows. A painting of one of the original homes on the ranch dominated the space above the fireplace.

  Regina set her water bottle on a side table and wandered toward the hearth, her eye grazing the collection of photographs on the mantel showcasing the development of the property from small working ranch to corporate guest facility. She noticed Devon had closed the door behind them. Not that it would necessarily deter guests who wanted to drop in, but most of the activity in the lodge was in the dining rooms and bars by this time of evening.

  He joined her by the fireplace, his gaze following the direction of hers briefly before returning to her. The scent of old books and pine hung in the air, familiar and welcoming.

  “Are you all right?” He tipped her chin up so she was looking into his concerned green eyes. “I didn’t know how to read your retreat.”

  Her belly flipped at his careful scrutiny. At the feeling she thought she heard in his voice.

  No doubt she was misreading him, seeing a level of emotion that wasn’t there. She was only valuable to him because he wanted to keep his father’s deeds on lockdown.

  “I’m fine.” Steeling herself, she ignored the fluttery sensations his touch inspired. “I told you, I got roped into leading a longer tour than I’d signed on for. I hadn’t realized that accompanying the group to a local ski resort meant I’d be stuck there until the ranch bus picked everyone up the next day.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully.

  “You’re putting in a lot of hours,” he said finally, his hand falling away. “Are you sure this pursuit of my father’s motives is worth so much of your time?”

  Even as she missed the feel of his fingers on her cheek, she felt indignation straighten her spine.

  “I thought I made it clear to you the other night that finding out why Alonzo mined my family’s secrets for his own gain is my number one priority?” The words came out with more bite than she’d intended, but it frustrated her to think Devon couldn’t see how deeply the book had affected her.

  How it had hurt.

  “You have every right to know.” His voice hummed along her nerve endings, seemingly calibrated to soothe her. “My point is that I can help you now. You don’t need to do this alone anymore.”

  His calm, easy demeanor only reminded her that Devon had lived without any knowledge of his father’s actions until recently, whereas she’d been keenly aware of them her whole life, even if she hadn’t known whom to blame for them.

  “Are you suggesting I give up my quest and go home?” With an effort, she held herself very s
till, ignoring the physical need to be close to him and restraining the impulse to run. “Trust that the son of someone who tore apart my family will turn out to be an ally?”

  Frustration vibrated through her, making her limbs shaky while the sounds of the Western movie in the room next door briefly blared louder. A gunfight, maybe, with swelling, suspenseful music that hummed through the hardwood floor.

  “Is that the real reason you’ve been avoiding me these last three days?” The muscle in Devon’s jaw tensed. Flexed. “Because you’re back to thinking of me as your enemy?”

  “I never said that.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned from the hearth to stare out the dark window at the stars dotting the horizon.

  She recognized there could be a grain of truth in his accusation. She had gladly accepted the extra workload, telling herself she might have a chance to learn more about the elusive ranch owners who had a close relationship to Alonzo Salazar.

  But was that the real reason she’d filled her calendar?

  “You didn’t need to.” He remained by the crackling fire, his broad shoulders outlined by the orange glow. “And I understand if you want to pursue answers in your own way. But my offer still stands to share information and resources. April Stephens is going to get to the bottom of this faster than you or I could alone.”

  Regina bit her lip to keep herself from responding impulsively. Angrily. Yet the injustice of the situation wouldn’t let her stay quiet.

  “Her allegiance is to you, because you’re paying her.” She’d had a lot of time to think about it these past few days when she’d buried herself in the work of entertaining guests. “And you have to recognize the extreme financial disconnect between our stations in life right now. You’re running a successful business, possibly funded by your father’s ill-gotten gains. I’m seasonal ranch help after being disowned by my father thanks to your dad.”