She looked out the window. “None of your business.”
She was probably one of the most intriguing women he’d ever met. She looked like Tinker Bell and acted like Q from the James Bond series. She was the gadget expert at the HDD and more specifically for Angus Force’s Deep Ops team, the team that had gotten him shot. But every once in a while he helped them out anyway.
“What were you doing in the bank?” he asked again.
“I can’t tell you that and you know it. It’s an ongoing investigation,” she replied. Her captivating, thick blond hair curled naturally to her shoulders. She barely came to his, adding to her compelling allure. She was a powerhouse in a very small package. With eyes as blue as pure sapphires and a notably pert nose, she captivated attention. When he leaned close enough, he could see a tiny smattering of freckles across it. He could admit to himself that he’d been intrigued by Millicent Frost from the first time they’d met. She unfortunately did not like lawyers, and he knew that because she had told him so herself.
He tried again. “I don’t want to mess with your investigation, but I am representing Werner Dearth’s wife in their divorce case, and the guy’s a cad. Can you tell me anything about his finances?”
“Nope.”
He pushed down irritation. “Come on, Millie. Just give me something. He’s treating his soon-to-be-ex horribly, and his wall of lawyers want to destroy her.”
“Stupid lawyers,” she muttered. “Fine. I can’t divulge anything about his finances. However, I will tell you that his secretary was blowing him before you arrived.”
He jolted. “Gladys performed oral sex on Dearth in the office?” Gross. Just gross.
“Yep. I accidentally opened his door while looking for the AC unit. Good ole Gladys perched on her knees. But that’s about all I can tell you.”
Hmm, that was a start. “Thanks, Millie. I appreciate it.” He pulled up to the HDD headquarters in downtown DC. “Are you still working with Angus and the gang?”
“Not on this one.” She looked down at her hands. “I’ve been assigned elsewhere as I’m undercover for a bit.”
He didn’t like the idea of her out there on her own. The woman needed a team to back her up. “Just exactly what kind of bugs were you planting?”
She looked at him, her eyes guileless as she opened the door. “Planting? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He wasn’t happy she was a good liar, yet he knew she was lying, so maybe she wasn’t that accomplished. “Would you like to meet for dinner sometime?”
She hopped out of the vehicle. “Are you still a lawyer?”
“Yep.”
“Then not a chance.” With that, she exited his car and slammed the door, leaving the faintest scent of sweet magnolias behind.
Chapter One
Two months later
She wanted to kill Scott Terentson.
Millicent Frost sat in the witness chair, trying to keep from fidgeting. The wooden backrest felt like a hard iron bar that made her back ache all the way up to her neck. For some reason, even though it was only March, the heat in the courtroom had been turned off. She did her best not to shiver her rear end off; it was not yet nine in the morning.
The judge was a man in his sixties with thick gray hair, bushy eyebrows, and beady brown eyes. She disliked him on sight. The bailiff was a tall woman who seemed efficient and economical with her movements. Millie liked her. It was a bench trial, so there was no jury; at least she had that going for her.
That was all she had going for her right now.
Being back in a courtroom after all this time made her stomach churn. Hopefully the restroom was close.
The two lawyers spoke in hushed tones to the judge, gesturing wildly as she sat there and tried to listen. They argued over part of her testimony; the questions she refused to answer.
She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was a grown-ass woman who knew how to blow up a boat with frayed twine and an old toaster, not a scared eight-year-old being kicked out of another foster home because she wanted to take apart engines rather than play with dolls.
Scott Terentson and his client, a stunning woman in her fifties with thick black hair, commanded one table, while the investment banker Werner Dearth and his lawyer, a high-powered-looking woman in a bright red suit, occupied the other table.
Unfortunately, in the rows of benches behind them sat HDD Special Agent Tom Rutherford, her immediate boss. As usual, he was dressed impeccably in a blue suit with a white tie. No expression marked his face, but heat rolled off him like steam from a volcanic vent.
Scott Terentson had probably just gotten her fired.
