Stolen Memory. Virginia Kantra
a multimillionaire. My stock started trading publicly five years ago and my company is currently one of the hottest tech properties on the market. I received a National Medal of Technology for my work on laser surgery. The Pentagon has expressed interest in a nonlethal phaser device we have in development. If we’re going to accept a Department of Defense grant, we can’t afford the slightest doubt about my company’s security or my abilities.”
“You remember all that?” She sounded impressed. Too bad it wasn’t justified.
“No. I read about it on-line. From an ABC News special report and a profile in Newsweek.”
A Google search had yielded 1,378 pages of sources citing his education, inventions, patents and awards—and not a single personal fact beyond his birthdate. He was profoundly alone.
Laura’s eyes narrowed. “At least it wasn’t your obituary.”
He couldn’t tell if she was joking. He had a feeling—based entirely on his recent interactions with Quinn and his brother—that not many people teased him.
“Not yet,” he said.
She frowned. “People are going to suspect something if I start hanging around asking questions.”
A flare of hope, of excitement, shot up inside him. She was going to do it. At least, she was considering it.
Simon turned from the window, careful to keep his face and voice neutral. “Not if we give them a plausible reason for your presence.”
“What reason? I’ve been removed from your case.”
There it was. The sixty-four thousand dollar question.
His pulse jumped, an annoying reminder he wasn’t as much in control of himself or the situation as he’d like to be. “We could allow people to believe we have a relationship.”
“A relationship.”
She was back to repeating things. Simon refused to take that as a bad sign. “Yes.”
“A personal relationship,” she clarified.
“Yes.”
“A sexual relationship.”
Not good, he thought.
“That was the idea.”
“Your idea. Not mine.” She got jerkily to her feet. “I wouldn’t even go out with you. Why would I agree to pretend to be your—your…”
“Companion,” he supplied. “And of course you would be compensated.”
Warning flags flew in her cheeks. “Do it for the money?”
“You wouldn’t have to do ‘it.’ Unless of course you wanted to.”
Mistake, he thought instantly. She was already suspicious of his motives. He had to reassure her. Persuade her. Not antagonize her further.
“Please,” he said. “This isn’t simply a matter of questioning company employees. I need someone who might reasonably be expected to have an interest in my personal life. I need a woman.”
“You must know plenty of women.”
“No one I can trust.”
No one he could remember.
No one else he wanted.
He took a step closer, moving in on her carefully. He didn’t want to spook her into saying no. The woman had scruples. Defenses. Pepper spray.
“It won’t work.” Her voice was breathless and distracted.
“What?” He was watching her mouth, distracted himself.
“I can’t help you.”
Another step. “Why not?”
Her hair wasn’t really brown, he decided, but bronze and gold and copper and rust, the colors running together like liquid metal.
“Conflict of interest,” she said.
“What conflict? You’re not investigating me. You’re not even on the case.”
“For good reason.”
Her tension filled the air like static electricity, raising the hair on the back of his neck. “What reason?”
She drew back her head and looked him straight in the eye. “The guard—the missing guard—the one who disappeared the same night as the rubies? He’s my father.”
Simon went as rigid as a fighter absorbing a blow.
No wonder, Laura thought bleakly. She’d just delivered a whammy.
He didn’t crumple. But he did move back a step. “When did you find out?”
She curled her hands into fists to hide their trembling. “When you told me his name.”
“Good to know,” Simon said.
She was shaking with relief and anticlimax. In her experience, men did not respond to damaging personal revelations with calm acknowledgment.
“That’s it? ‘Good to know’?” Her mimicry was savage.
Simon raised his eyebrows. “It certainly helps explain why your chief removed you from the case.”
“Yes, it does,” she said flatly.
She didn’t blame Jarek Denko one bit for yanking her from the investigation. She could accept his reasons. She could abide by his decision. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her chief ultimately hadn’t trusted her to do her job. He’d placed a higher value on the appearance of propriety than his belief in her integrity. And it stung.
“Did he do it?” Simon asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“Your father,” Simon said patiently. “Do you think he emptied the safe?”
She didn’t know what to think. But she felt, in her bones and her soul, that her father could not be guilty. “No. The man I remember was a hardheaded, ham-handed son of a bitch, but he wasn’t a thief.”
“Fine,” Simon said.
“What do you mean, ‘fine’?”
He shrugged. “If you’re right, there’s no conflict of interest.”
“And if I’m wrong?” She couldn’t believe they were even having this discussion. He should have stormed out by now.
“Would you protect him?”
“Protect my father?”
“Yes. If you found out he was guilty, would you cover up for him or turn him in?” His odd, light eyes were opaque. Laura didn’t have a clue what he was thinking.
“I guess I’d try to talk him into turning himself in,” she said slowly. “But I’d have to know. I want to know.”
Simon nodded. “Then we want the same thing.”
His brain was more rapid than hers. Or maybe, Laura thought with a flash of resentment, his mind was clearer because his emotions weren’t involved.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“The truth.” He gave her a thin smile which made her heart beat faster for no reason at all. “We both want the facts. As long as you don’t let your hypothesis stand in the way of our reaching a logical conclusion, there’s no reason we can’t work together.”
“How can you trust me?” The words burst out of her.
“Have you lied to me?”
“No, but—”
“No.”
“But Dan—the detective assigned