“Harvard?” He sounded distracted when he answered.
“Yep. What’s happening? You got anything for me yet?”
The answering silence stretched so long that Harvard wondered whether Harry had put down the phone and forgotten about it.
“I’ll call you if I find anything,” he said eventually.
“Do you think there might be something there, or are we chasing fog?”
“No, there’s something here,” he muttered, almost to himself. “There’s some corruption in the memory systems. It’s as if somebody tried to cover their tracks by deleting the information, but they did a cack-handed job of it. I just need a little more time to see what I can clean up. It doesn’t help that I’m not dealing with the original data storage. The server was updated years ago and the information stored in it copied over to this one. But, maybe if I—”
The line went dead. Harry had lost interest in the call—if he even remembered it was happening.
But still, the programmer had given Harvard something to go on. The next person he contacted was Elle, and he did it as he made his way downstairs to the guest room.
“Before you ask,” she said instead of hello, “I’ve already started going over the photos and envelope Rachel’s dad couriered to me. It’s too soon to report on whether I’ve found something or not, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know.” There was a silent but unmistakable now stop bothering me at the end of that sentence.
Elle had obviously gone to the same charm school as Harry. “That’s not why I called. I just spoke to Harry, and he mentioned that there’s corrupted data on the server, as though somebody had been trying to cover their tracks. Which means, someone from IT or security was definitely involved in Rachel’s attack. I need you to dig out personnel information for that period.”
“One of the guys Rachel had fired worked security back then.”
“Yeah, but those two were fired long before the drug was stolen.” Harvard kicked off his shoes beside his bed before bending over to tug off his socks. “We need to question anyone else working around the time Rachel was attacked.”
“I’ll get you the names.” She took a deep breath. “Is Rachel okay?”
“She will be—once everyone involved in this is out of the picture.”
“You mean behind bars, right?”
He meant completely out of the picture, and he’d be more than happy to make it happen. But the authorities tended to frown on that sort of thing. “I need to call Ryan. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Try not to kill anyone before then,” she said drolly before hanging up.
With a smile, Harvard called his last team member. “Are you eating?” he asked as soon as Ryan said hello.
“I don’t always eat, but yeah, I have pizza.”
Harvard chuckled. “Did you check in with the surveillance team following our suspects?”
“Absolutely.” There was the sound of a can opening and then Ryan taking a drink. “Samantha’s out on a date this evening, with a young movie star who’s barely out of nappies. They’ve gone clubbing, and their tail thinks they called the paparazzi before they left her condo. Charles is in Kent, checking his wife into rehab yet again. Word is she was running around their garden naked trying to catch imaginary bubbles with a bucket.”
“Okay,” Harvard said. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
“I don’t think her neighbors were either,” Ryan said around a mouthful of food. “Then there’s the shoe guys. What are they called again? Can’t remember the name of the shoes. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, Preston went home to his wife, had dinner, watched the news. Boring. Marcus spent the evening with his mistress, but his wife expects him home later—apparently, he’s got a late emergency meeting. And Rupert’s in the Hippodrome Casino, but he isn’t gambling. Word is, he’s wandering around stroking the tables and slot machines.”
“Stroking?” Harvard arched his brows.
“I only report what I’m told, and his tail said there was definite stroking and he’s resisted all attempts to get him involved in a game. The tail said he looks kinda sad.”
Harvard pinched the bridge of his nose as the craziness of Rachel’s relatives sank in. “Were any of them anywhere near Roger’s house this afternoon when the envelope was delivered?”
“That’s a negative. But then, they wouldn’t have to be. I asked Elle to hack into the CCTV cameras on the road leading into the property and look for couriers.”
“What about the cameras on the Talbot estate?”
“They’re only on the main house and public grounds. Seems the family don’t like cameras on their residence.”
“I need to have a word with them about that.” It was a dumb thing to do for people in their position. No matter how much you valued your privacy, safety came first. Harvard unbuttoned his shirt. “Keep surveillance on everyone over the weekend. In the meantime, prep what you need for Monday’s board meeting. Hopefully, we can get some answers then.”
“No kidding,” Ryan said.
“Michael,” Rachel’s voice came from the doorway, “what are you doing in here?”
He turned to answer and froze. She stood there, hands on hips and completely nude, and not showing even the slightest sign of being self-conscious about it.
“You there?” Ryan said in his ear, but Harvard could barely hear him over the sound of all the blood in his body rushing south.
“Have we stopped sleeping together?” Rachel demanded. “I don’t remember telling you to go back to the guest room.”
“Harvard?” Ryan called.
Harvard ended the call and tossed his phone onto the bed. For a man who was known for being cool under fire and having an answer for everything, there were no words in his head.
“Are you coming?” Rachel glared at him before turning on her heel and stalking back across the hall.
For a second, all he could do was watch her go as his mouth watered and his pants grew uncomfortably tight.
“Michael?” she snapped as she disappeared from sight.
And with a grin, Harvard answered her summons.
Honestly, just when you thought you had a man trained, they wandered off and did their own thing. Hadn’t she made it clear they were sleeping together? What would be the point in him going back to his own room?
A thought occurred to her as she rounded the bed. “Are you trying to be sensitive because my father had a heart attack?” she asked him as he walked through the door. “Because it was only a mild one, and it was mainly due to the amount of bacon he’s been scoffing in secret.”
Harvard locked the door before staring at her. “You’re naked.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. That was the kind of astute observation she expected from an MIT graduate—not. “Yes. I am. I thought we might have sex. But you were in the other room.”
He shook his head as if dazed. “Why do I get the feeling you’re ordering sex the same way you’d order a pizza?”
Now he really was irritating her. “Have I misread the signs? Do you not want to have sex with me? Is the erection you’ve been sporting these past few days purely a medical issue? Do I need to take you to the emergency room? Because walking around like that surely can’t be healthy.”