“Maybe Harvard isn’t doing it right.” Ryan turned to him. “If you want any pointers, shout out. I’ve got your back.”
“As much as I appreciate the offer, I think I’m okay.” Harvard grinned.
“Hear that?” Ryan mumbled to Elle. “He’s okay.”
“Children,” Rachel snapped. “Focus. What do we have?”
“Three suspects.” Harvard turned deadly serious. “Samantha, Charles, and whoever’s wearing the Gucci shoes.”
“So, we have nothing.” Rachel folded her arms over the blood-red pantsuit she’d donned for the day. She’d styled it with her standard black pumps and a killer black leather belt to cinch in the waist. It was her “don’t piss me off” outfit, and it matched her manicure perfectly.
“No, we’ve got a lot more than that.” Harvard ran a hand over his smooth bald head, making her wonder what he’d look like if he didn’t shave. She shook off the thought, reminding herself that she didn’t care. He’d be out of her life soon. And that’s exactly what she wanted. Mostly…
“We know,” he continued, “that someone’s phone is connected to the memory card reader in your mom’s office, and also to the signal jammer on the camera. All we need is to check everybody’s phone and see which one it is.”
Rachel pulled out a chair and plopped into it. She folded her legs and swung her foot. “You might as well ask people for their firstborn. No one is going to hand over their phone for inspection.”
“They don’t need to,” Ryan said. “They just need to leave them at security in a building that doesn’t allow them inside. Then I can check them.”
“And how do we do that?” Rachel said. “If I have a meeting in another building, I lock my phone in my desk drawer. I don’t take it to the building because I know it will end up sitting in security, being stroked by someone’s grubby fingers.” Three sets of identically incredulous eyes stared back at her. “Don’t try to tell me it doesn’t happen,” she said.
Ryan started to say something but shook his head. “To hell with it. I give up; she’s your problem now, Harvard. Good luck.”
“I’m not anyone’s problem,” Rachel told the man-child.
“So,” Elle said, “is there no way we can get everyone to bring their phones to one of the secure buildings?”
“What if we told them that all phones need to be handed in and scanned as a security measure?” Ryan mused.
“Won’t work,” Elle replied. “If I got a heads-up, I’d wipe my phone before I came to work. Or bring in a backup to hand in instead.”
“Then how the hell do we get hold of their phones?” Ryan was beginning to lose patience.
Harvard and Rachel shared a look and, for a second, it felt like they were tuned in to the same wavelength. It was almost as though she could hear his thoughts.
Breaking eye contact, he said, “There’s a board meeting on Monday.” And it felt strangely right that he should speak for both of them, because it almost felt like they’d had the discussion and come to an agreement.
Honestly, her life was becoming stranger by the day.
Rachel continued where he left off, “We can stop everyone on the way into the building. We’ll tell them there’s been a security breach, and phones have to be left at the desk until we get on top of it.”
Harvard nodded. “We keep it under wraps and spring it on them when they come in. That way, nobody has time to swap out or wipe their phones. In the meantime, I’ll call headquarters and see if they have some free bodies we can use to watch Samantha, Charles, and our Gucci-loafer-wearing suspects—Preston, Marcus, and Rupert.”
“You want them all watched?” Ryan looked at Rachel. “Will TayFor pay for another five team members?”
“Yes.” If they argued about it, she’d personally make her father and brother suffer for the rest of their natural lives. She needed this investigation over. She needed to get back to her life. And woe betide anyone who was a stumbling block to that plan.
“Okay.” Harvard turned to her. “Want to get some lunch?”
Before she could answer, Elle shouted, “No!”
When Rachel looked at her, Elle flushed as her eyes went suspiciously wide. “I mean, it’s too early for lunch. We need to go over this footage a little more anyway. See if there’s anything we missed.” She was making bug eyes at Harvard now, as though trying to get him to read her mind.
Rachel considered them both and spotted the second Harvard realized what Elle was trying to tell him. “Yeah, you’re right. Lunch can wait. Bring up that footage of the shoes again.”
Honestly, they must think she’d been born yesterday. “Have fun.” She stood and headed for the door. “I’m finished here.”
“No.” Elle shot to her feet. “We need you.”
Rachel sighed. “Please, for the love of Yves Saint Laurent, never ever try to bluff anyone for money.” With that, she threw open the door, took two steps into the corridor, and ran straight into Harry Boyle.
“Hey, Rach,” he said with a sheepish smile. “How’ve you been?”
And at that point, her head spun and her eyes shot bolts of lightning as she shouted, “Harvard.”
“I tried to warn you,” Elle hissed as Harvard strode across the conference room. “Didn’t I tell you he was arriving now? The IT department’s right across the hall. All you had to do was keep her in here for five more minutes.” She folded her arms and glared at him. “You can deal with the fallout on your own.”
Ryan sat back in his chair and put his feet up on the conference table. “I propose a new bet. Five hundred pounds says Harvard’s back in his own bed tonight and Rachel announces the engagement is off.”
“Twenty-five on him sporting a black eye when we see him next,” Elle said.
“There’s nothing quite like your team having your back,” Harvard muttered as he passed them and strode out into the hall. He hooked a hand each through Rachel’s and Harry’s arms and dragged them back inside the conference room. Once he’d locked the door behind them, he asked, “What part of undercover do you people not get?”
Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. “The part where you’re partnered with a backstabbing, interfering Neanderthal of a man who should have minded his own business.”
Harry, who turned out to be about six foot of lean muscle and overgrown sandy brown hair, held up his hands in an effort to appease her. “Don’t be mad with the Yank. This was my idea. I didn’t give him a choice.”
“Ha!” She threw up her hands in disgust. “You forced him?”
Harry looked Harvard up and down, taking in his size and bulk. “It happened over the phone. It was more of a mental challenge than a physical one.” He stuck out a hand at Harvard. “Good to meet you in person. You look like Grunt. Only black. And you talk way more.”
It was like meeting a puppy. A genius puppy who could hold a conversation, albeit a bizarre one. “Grunt and I aren’t related.” He kept his tone deadly serious so that Harry wouldn’t know if he was joking or not.