Chapter Fifteen

Dolly

D olly sat at her desk, feeling shell-shocked. She stared at her computer without really seeing it. She hadn’t been looking forward to her morning chat with Blevins, but never, in her wildest dreams, had she thought she’d find him face down in a pool of blood. Things got weird after that. She remembered screaming, and people flying out of their offices.

Looking down, she saw that she still hadn’t drunk the cup of coffee someone had put in her hand. Taking a sip, she grimaced. It was cold and bitter.

She wondered if Nash was in the building yet. Enough time had passed that he could probably come in. After all, it wasn’t as if Blevins was coming back soon. She needed to see him. But he was probably in his meeting with Shelby and she didn’t want to disturb him.

Well, she couldn’t just sit here. She decided to go back to Blevins’s office and check things out for herself. If anyone asked her what she was doing up there, she’d just tell them that she dropped something this morning.

There had to be something—anything—that would prove that Blevins was up to no good. After all, he said he had been attacked by thieves this morning. She snorted. Yeah, right. Thieves who knew just where his office was and just when to find him. They could have simply jumped him in the parking lot. His ravaged office might hold some clue as to why he was targeted, what they were really after.

She pushed herself away from her desk and headed toward Jackson Blevins’s office.

The hallway felt eerily quiet compared to the earlier commotion. As she rounded the corner, she was surprised to see Nash about to let himself into Blevins’s office.

Nash looked up when he heard her bearing down on him. He looked up, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Why am I not surprised?”

Dolly swallowed hard against the knot of awareness blooming in her throat as their gazes met and held. “I’m here to help.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“Why should you have all the fun? Besides, it’ll go faster with both of us looking.”

“True,” he conceded with bad grace. His gaze flickered to her mouth for the briefest second before he looked away.

“What could go wrong?”

Nash’s eyes narrowed at her flippant remark. “You saw what happened to Blevins. This isn’t some game.”

Dolly lifted her chin, refusing to let him see her nerves. “Standing around guessing won’t get us any answers either. And the longer we stay out here bickering about it, the more chance someone’s going to come along and ask what we’re doing.”

He studied her for a long moment before giving a curt nod of acceptance. “Fine. But you stick close and do exactly as I say, understood?”

The commanding edge to his tone sent a shiver through her, though Dolly couldn’t be certain whether it was from trepidation or something else entirely. She nodded.

Holding her gaze for a beat longer, Nash finally broke away to slide a key card into the door. The panel lights wobbled between red and green before reading a steady green light. At the audible click, Nash opened the door and slipped inside, Dolly on his heels.

“That’s a handy little device,” she said.

“When I first started, Shelby scored me a master key card. I’ve been through his office a few times. I haven’t found anything on his computer, and he doesn’t keep any paper files. But maybe this time around, he was careless.”

“That sounds like wishful thinking to me.”

“Me too, but I’m trying to remain positive. I haven’t had a lot of wins in the past year, either inside or outside of the ring.”

“You’ll get there. You’re too stubborn to let Blevins get away with hurting Shelby and the rodeo.”

The office was a study in opulence, all gleaming mahogany and leather. Thick Persian rugs muffled their footsteps as they crept inside, closing the door behind them. The room smelled of expensive leather and ambition, an unmistakable aura of power emanating from the dark wood-paneled walls.

Papers were still strewn about. Blevins’s phone sat slightly askew where it had been knocked off the hook.

“Whoever did this wasn’t messing around,” Nash muttered under his breath.

“Do you really think it was corporate thieves after something?”

Nash snorted. “No.”

Dolly looked around nervously. “Do you think they’ll be back?”

“Depends on who they are. If they work here, they could have just gone back to their desks.”

“That’s chilling.” She tried not to shiver. “Why do you think they beat him up?”

“He pissed off the wrong person.” Nash scanned the room. His gaze lingered on the massive oak desk situated in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. “He liked to show off, whether it was by throwing money around or having this cushy office.”

Dolly’s lips twisted. “Compensating for something, no doubt.”

Nash huffed out a quiet laugh, the sound sending a spark down Dolly’s spine. “Let’s see if we can find out why Blevins got tuned up this morning.”

Nash made a beeline for the desk, while Dolly quietly investigated the shelves and cabinets lining the walls. As Nash rifled through the scattered papers, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Anything interesting over there?”

Dolly shook her head, her fingers tracing the spines of some books that were still on the shelf. “Nothing yet. Everything seems pretty standard.”

As Nash logged into Blevins’s computer, typing a code Shelby must have given him, Dolly sat on the floor and dumped out the trash bin. Sifting through discarded papers, she searched for anything that might connect Blevins to anything hinky.

“There’s some new emails that came through that might give us some more information. He hasn’t had a chance to read them or scrub them from the computer yet.” Nash plugged an external drive into the computer. “I’m copying all his files onto this, so I can go through them later.”

“Good idea,” Dolly replied, her eyes narrowing as she spotted something at the bottom of the trash bin—a crumpled invoice with a familiar logo. Her pulse quickened as she unfolded the paper. It was a bill from Jaripeo Ranch, addressed to Jackson personally, with a list of items that appeared to be coded because she didn’t recognize any of the words.

“Nash, look at this,” she whispered, holding up the invoice for him to see. “It’s from Jaripeo. It may be about the bulls. But it’s not in Spanish or English.”

“I’ll take that,” he said, snatching it out of her hand and pocketing it in his pants.

“Maybe Hector Ortiz knows what this is all about.”

“Leave Hector alone. I’ll take care of it.”

“Do you think this is proof that Jaripeo is smuggling?”

“I think you need to stay out of this. If Blevins is smuggling things in from Mexico, I guarantee you it’s not tequila.”

Dolly was going to argue with him, but the sound of footsteps approaching down the hall made them both freeze. Her heart hammered in her chest as she recognized the voice of Debbi, Blevin’s secretary, chatting animatedly on the phone.

“Quick, in the closet,” Nash whispered.

Dolly shoved all the garbage back into the can and scurried to her feet. Nash pulled her into a small closet beside the bookshelves. They ducked inside and closed the door, just as Debbi entered the office, still absorbed in her conversation.

“Give me a sec,” Debbi said into the phone, oblivious that they were hiding mere feet away. “What a freakin’ mess it is in here. And I bet you can guess who has to clean it.”

Dolly and Nash exchanged a frustrated look as they squeezed themselves together in between a suit jacket and a beaded evening gown. What the actual hell was that for?

“I’ve got to check Jackson’s calendar. He forgot to sync the damned thing.”

Dolly peeked through the slats in the door and saw Debbi plunk herself into his desk chair.

“The drive,” Dolly whispered, barely breathing the word into Nash’s ear.

He moved his mouth, his lips brushing against her cheekbone, and he breathed back. “I’ve got it.”

Dolly sagged against him. Cramped in here together, it was hard to stand. She clung to him for support. Their close proximity sent a jolt of awareness through her, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

“Got it,” Debbi said. “He wanted me to delete all this junk mail that came in today. I don’t know why that’s so damned important that he had to call me from the hospital to do it right now.” She leaned back and put her feet on the desk. “Yeah, I’ve got a few minutes. Spill the tea. No one is telling me anything.”

Dolly closed her eyes and resisted the urge to groan. This was going to take a while.

“The story I got was some thugs followed him in from the parking lot and robbed him.” There was a pause and then Debbi said, “I don’t know, but the FBI confiscated the security tapes so they’ll catch them.”

“FBI?” Dolly whispered.

Nash rolled his eyes and mouthed the word “later.”

The sound of their breathing filled the small space, mingling with the scent of his aftershave. Dolly could feel the heat emanating from Nash’s body, a steady warmth that both comforted and excited her.

Debbi’s side of the conversation carried snippets of gossip and office politics, but nothing that provided any insight into Jackson’s illicit activities.

OMG why won’t she shut up?

“One sec, I’ve got another call coming through,” Debbi said. “Yes, Mr. Blevins, I just received a call from our contact at the bank. They said the funds haven’t cleared yet, but should be available by tomorrow morning.”

Funds? What funds?

She and Nash exchanged a significant look. This could be the big break they were looking for. They should have hid in a closet a long time ago.

“Yes, sir, I understand. The money will be transferred to the offshore account as soon as it clears. No one will suspect a thing. I’ll delete everything as usual.” A few clicks of the keyboard later, Debbi said, “Okay, I’m back.”

After an eternity, Debbi wrapped up her conversation and left the office, closing the door behind her. They eased out of the closet and Dolly went to the door while Nash went to the desk.

“I think I can save the data she just tried to purge.”

Dolly’s legs were shaking with adrenaline as she glanced down the hallway. “The coast is clear.”

“Let’s stop pushing our luck and get out of here.”

As they hurried down the corridor out of the executive suite, Nash’s hand was warm against her back. “This is good right?”

“It’s good,” he said. “But don’t get your hopes up just yet.”

“What did Debbi mean that the FBI has the security tapes? They were here?”

“Yeah, that was the meeting Shelby wanted me in here for today.” Nash sighed hard out of his nose. “I can’t say much, but they’re very much interested in things right now.”

“Can they help us nail Blevins?”

Nash shrugged and didn’t answer.

“What type of things are they looking at?” she asked, dying of curiosity.

“I can’t say.”

She had a feeling that he wouldn’t say, but then again they were in the middle of the office where anyone could hear them. “What does that mean for our investigation?”

“My investigation,” he said.

Ouch. But she supposed she deserved that for keeping secrets from him. “Well?” she demanded.

“Nothing changes for Laredo. I’m your VIP. You get me back-area access and I’ll take it from there.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said.

“How does it feel?”

She winced. “Yeah, not too good.”

He reached down to hold her hand. “You need to trust me so I can trust you.”

She nodded. “I’m getting up the nerve.”

“You?” Nash scoffed. “You’re fearless.”

“Only when the camera is on,” she said.

He turned her to face him, his hands comforting on her upper arms. “You’re a force to be reckoned with and you’re going to help turn this rodeo into one of the greatest in the country.”

She smiled at that image. “That’s a high expectation.”

“Not for you. It’s a piece of cake for someone with your skills.”

“If you say so.” Dolly could almost believe him when she looked into his sincere and caring eyes. She needed to tell him about her escort days so she could move on and concentrate on the stuff that really mattered. But the thought made her stomach churn like a mechanical bull gone haywire. Her throat tightened at the thought of seeing judgment and disgust in his eyes. Stepping into his arms, she laid her head on his chest. It felt so good to be hugged, so good not to have to be the one in control or in charge for a moment. Would Nash protect her and stand by her if she got fired from UPRC if her escort days came up? What if their romance was over before it even got a chance to start? She desperately wanted to believe he would.

“I’ve got to get out of here and work on the information on the drive,” he said. “Keep your head down. Better yet, why don’t you take an early day and work from your apartment or the Winnebago.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t. I’ve got a sponsor coming in this afternoon.”

“Okay. Be safe. I’ll be hanging around Dallas until Shelby gets sick of me. Can I see you tonight?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” She’d really like that. She’d tell him about the cheerleading uniform she received. If she couldn’t tell him about Leisure Industries, she could just tell him that the gift made her feel uncomfortable and sexualized. That was mostly the truth. It would be a start.

“Me too,” he said, although he looked a little wistful when he said it. He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth and took a sharp left to get to the elevator.

She wanted to call him back and have him stick around a little longer. Things didn’t seem so bad when he was around, and she didn’t feel as alone and vulnerable. She didn’t think the people who assaulted Blevins would be back, and even if they did, there wasn’t any reason why they would seek her out. But it didn’t feel safe being in the office today.

Forcing herself to snap out of it, Dolly’s gaze shifted to the computer screen and its long list of emails, each demanding her full attention. That should be enough of a distraction. Right now, she needed to be the social maven that she had been hired to be. She had a sponsor meeting to prepare for.

As she tried to work, her phone buzzed insistently. She flicked her eyes to the wall of texts that were being sent. Jackson Blevins must be bored in his hospital bed. When she ignored the texts, her phone started to ring. She let it go to voicemail, but the phone rang again, skittering across the laminate surface of her desk.

“Mr. Blevins, I don’t have time for this right now. I have a potential sponsor coming in any minute.”

His voice oozed through the speaker, as smooth and noxious as an oil slick. “When you’re finished with them, you need to come to my hospital room.”

“Why?” Dolly asked, leaning back in her chair. “I’m sure Debbi can help you with whatever you need.”

“Debbi’s not you. I need your…special touch in a private matter.”

Oh ugh. Dolly made a face. Bile rose in her throat at the innuendo lacing his words. She hoped she was imagining things, but she knew she wasn’t. She wished she could record this conversation for the record. Instead, she just scribbled down notes for the report she and Shelby were working on to present to the board about his inappropriate behaviors.

“I’m not your secretary. If you need something, ask Debbi. I’ve got work to do.” Without waiting for his response, Dolly ended the call and blocked his number for good. She’d dance with the devil when she had to, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him lead. Besides, if everything went according to plan, Jackson Blevins might not be CEO for much longer—and she couldn’t wait for that day. She couldn’t afford any more distractions. Not when she needed to nail this sponsorship deal. There was business to attend to and she wasn’t going to let personal matters derail her professional game.

Pocketing her phone, Dolly stood up and went to get a cup of coffee for a distraction from Blevins’s nonsense. On the way to the breakroom, she passed by Debbi who was hurrying back to her desk while “Yes sirring” someone, probably Blevins.

As she waited for her coffee to brew, Dolly rested a hip against the counter and allowed her mind to wander to more pleasant things. Like Nash’s touch that still lingered on her skin, a phantom sensation that sent shivers down her spine. She thought about his calloused hands skimming over her skin, igniting sparks in their wake. She couldn’t wait to feel the rasp of his stubble against her inner thigh. A delicious ache bloomed deep in her core.

And then her phone buzzed again and jolted her out of the nice little fantasy she was building.

“What?” she snapped into the phone.

“Lonestar Leathercraft is here to see you,” the receptionist said.

“Send them up,” Dolly said. And then wondered if the men who beat up Blevins had snuck into the building or if Jackson had authorized them to come up. Guess she’d have to wait until she spoke to Nash and see if he had seen the surveillance tapes or if he could use his former ties at the FBI to get a copy of them.

Dolly headed to the elevator bank so she could greet Martha Simmons from Lonestar Leathercraft right away. They had spoken on the phone and sent texts back and forth, but this would be the first time they met in person.

The elevator doors opened and a well-dressed woman in her mid-fifties held out her hand. “Ms. Keller? I’m Martha. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”

Us?

Any words she had died in her throat as a familiar figure stepped out from behind Martha. Tall and lean, with salt-and-pepper hair and knowing brown eyes, Jefferson Laker looked every inch the successful businessman.

And the last person Dolly expected to see in her office.

Dolly numbly shook Martha’s offered hand.

“I wanted to introduce you to our partial owner, Jefferson Laker.”

“Hello,” Dolly managed.

“Ms. Keller,” Jefferson said with a small nod.

Her mind raced through scenarios, each one ending with her secret laid bare before the unforgiving UPRC rodeo community.

She forced a smile. “Can I get you two any coffee?”

“No, we’re on a tight schedule,” Jefferson said.

Martha nodded apologetically.

“Well, let’s get down to business then,” Dolly said, and gestured them toward her office. Was this just a coincidence? Or had Jefferson known that she was working on this deal? He had been a decent man all those years ago; she shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions about his intentions. And yet, her experiences with Jackson Blevins had colored her expectations about rich men’s behaviors.