"Can I offer you anything?" The words, uttered countless times to countless people, seemed painfully intimate to her ears. "Coffee?"
"No." Zach shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks."
A nod. "How was Europe?" Unconsciously, her gaze shifted to his left hand. She shouldn't give a damn. Even so, she felt an incredible surge of relief when she saw his ring finger was bare.
In Zach's case, no ring meant no wife. Marriage to him meant the works, a joining in every sense of the word. And that included the symbols that signified the joining—two rings, hers and his.
"Europe was busy." If Zach noticed her fleeting inspection, he didn't react. Instead, he glanced around the office, then gave an approving nod. "Your dream—you, Meg, and Paul made it happen. You started your firm. Not that I doubted it. I'm happy for you."
"Thank you."
Abruptly, Zach leaned forward. "I'm sorry if my barging in here startled you. You probably didn't even know I was in town. I'm speaking at a conference. I'm also working on a project for one of my New York clients. And that project has brought me to you."
Victoria's brows shot up. This was even more unbelievable than his being here. "What kind of project? And who's your client?"
A hint of amusement. "Still firing questions. I pity your courtroom opponents."
"That doesn't answer my questions."
Zach stared at the floor for a moment. "My client prefers I not mention his name or discuss the nature of my work. But the stakes are high. So I have to ask you a few questions, and those questions have to be kept confidential."
"Another covert assignment," she couldn't help but remark in a bitter tone. The painful memories resurfaced far too easily. It was one of those very assignments that had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back for them. "Some things never change." She folded her hands on her desk and got her emotions in check. "You have questions. Go ahead, ask."
"What were you doing at the Hope Institute yesterday?"
It took every ounce of self-control to retain her poker face. "Are you having me followed?"
He sucked in his breath. "No, of course not."
"Are you sure? Because someone's been following me." Even as she spoke, she wondered if her pronouncement was an accusation or a confidence. Either way, her nerves must be more frayed than she'd realized.
Zach's head came up like a wolf scenting danger. "Who? Why?"
"I don't know." Victoria feathered a hand through her hair. "It's probably my imagination. And it's not your problem. Let's get back to what you asked me. It's interesting you should bring up the Hope Institute. No one else seems to have heard of it. How is it you have?"
"That's a responding question, not an answer."
"Fine. My visit to the Hope Institute was personal."
"Personal—how ?"
"I..." Victoria fought the urge to fall back on old habits, to share her worries with him and ask for his help. Was she insane? It had been a lifetime. She didn't even know the man anymore. He'd come to grill her on behalf of a client. And here she was, about to spill her guts.
But she felt so strung-out. He'd picked the worst time to approach her. And the worst subject to approach her on.
"Victoria." Zach had been studying her. He looked concerned, his voice gentling. "I'm not the enemy. Something's obviously wrong. What is it? Why do you think someone's following you? And how does this relate to your visiting the Hope Institute?"
Her gaze met his. "There's something shady about that clinic, isn't there?"
Zach didn't look away. "Yes."
"Oh, God." Victoria could feel her hands shaking as she covered her face. "If Audrey's hurt, if they've done something to her—" .
"Audrey?" Zach jumped on her words. "Why would Audrey be there?" He started to reach for her, then thought better of it. "Talk to me."
Victoria's mind was racing. She knew who Zach's "anonymous" clients were. And not only because she'd been in his bed when he took phone calls from them, but also because those very clients had, by feeding Zach's demons, played a crucial role in shattering their love to bits.
Slowly, her head came up. "What is the Hope Institute involved in?" she demanded. "Are they a front for something? Are they holding people against their will, hurting them in some way?"
Silence.
Victoria's patience snapped. "Zach, I can't just give you some terse, factual answers and send you on your way. This is a terrifying situation for me—and a personal one. My sister's health and safety are at stake. So I have to know who you're working for. Or is that a stupid question? It's the same as always, isn't it? The government? The FBI?"
Zach's expression never changed. "Yes." He half rose from his seat. "You're the only person who knows. To be blunt, you're the only person who's ever known anything about my dealings with the FBI—then or now."
"That's why you came to my office—to drive home that fact?" she asked incredulously. "To make sure I plan to keep your government assignments a secret?"
"No. I came to your office because you walked right into my investigation and I had to find out why."
"What investigation?"
Zach drew a slow, thoughtful breath. "For a number of reasons, it would be stupid to play games. As we just said, you know about my business relationship with the FBI. And you're already more involved in this whole mess than you realize. So I'll tell you outright. But not a word can leave this room."
"I've never told a soul about your work," she assured him quietly. "I don't intend to start now."
"I believe you."
Something about the tone of Zach's voice alerted Victoria to the fact that he was referring to more than his faith in her discretion.
What did he mean, he believed her?
And how was she more involved in this mess than she realized?
"I'm helping the FBI break up an international drug syndicate. After years of painstaking work, the feds have uncovered a major distribution point in Manhattan."
"Manhattan." Victoria swallowed. "More specifically, the Hope Institute."
"Yes." He rose the rest of the way, elbows planted on the desk, looming over her like a panther about to spring. "Now tell me about Audrey."
"Wait a minute." Victoria stiffened, the meaning behind Zach's declaration of faith clicking into place. "You knew I was at the Hope Institute, which means the FBI has some kind of surveillance going on there. Now you're here, asking questions, telling me I'm involved, stressing the fact that you believe me. That implies someone else doesn't." Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly does your client think I've done? Where do I fit into this investigation of theirs?"
This time Zach didn't smile at her rapidly fired questions. "You're not under suspicion. The FBI just wants to know why you were at the clinic. But they do intend to get an explanation. They're not going to be put off by a vague allusion to some personal matter. You can talk to them directly, if you prefer. I thought you'd rather talk to me. If I'm wrong . . ." He shrugged. "You have till tomorrow to decide. After that, it's out of my hands."
"So you came to make things easier for me." The irony was almost too much to bear. After the painful way they'd parted, how could seeing him again make things easier? It was like reopening a wound that had finally stopped bleeding."
"Honestly? Yes, I did think it would make things easier."
It was apparent he wasn't feeling the same emotional wrenching she was.
"Fine." She managed to sound aloof rather than anguished. "So you're here to find out what I know about the Hope Institute. And I take it the concern you expressed for Audrey was your way of getting at that information." Even as she spoke, Victoria knew that dig was unfair. Zach was too decent a person to manipulate her into providing the details he needed.
Clearly, he agreed.
For the first time, his composure slipped, anger simmering beneath the surface. His jaw tightened, and sparks glinted in his eyes. "Don't insult me. And don't insult what we once meant to each other. I'd never use
you. I made no secret of the fact that I came here for information. I had no idea your visit to the Hope Institute was tied to Audrey. Now that you've set me straight, of course I'm concerned. I'm even more concerned about your being followed. How can you believe otherwise?"
There was no rebutting that argument. "You're right," she admitted in a tight, dignified voice? "You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry."
Zach's anger banked, but that fierce light still burned in his eyes. "I didn't have to fake interest in your problems to make sure you cooperated," he reminded her. "I could have demanded my answers and walked out of here. Better yet, I didn't have to come at all. I could have let the FBI do its job. I chose not to, for reasons I thought were obvious. It seems I was wrong. Tell me, Victoria, have you completely forgotten what we once had together—other than how the FBI intruded on it?"
Victoria's lashes lowered, and she stared at the corner of her desk. It hurt too damned much to think about the past, much less to be looking into Zach's eyes when he referred to it.
"I haven't forgotten," she managed at last. "It's just that I..." She cleared her throat, the compulsion to pour out what was worrying her too strong to resist. "I'm worried sick about Audrey. She's disappeared. My instincts tell me she's at the Hope Institute. But the receptionist there won't tell me anything. Everywhere I turn, I run into another wall."
Zach's mental wheels were turning. Even without looking, she could sense it. She could even guess where his thoughts were going. Just as she was the only one who knew intimate things about him, he was the only one who knew intimate things about her.
During those months when they'd been so close, she'd allowed herself to lean on him in a way she'd never done with another soul. She'd confided in him—her fears, her sense of responsibility to her family, especially her younger sister. He knew just how bad Audrey's bulimia was. He knew how emotionally abusive her father was, how he dominated her mother and destroyed Audrey's self-image.
And he knew the pain all this caused her.
Slowly, Victoria lifted her gaze, met Zach's intense expression. "I saw her on Saturday, in Central Park," she said. "According to my father, she's still in Florence. He says I'm imagining things. But I'm not. She's here, and she's sick. She was bloated, her eyes were glazed. She could scarcely speak. She collapsed at my feet. I ran to get help. When I got back, she was gone. I haven't seen her since. But I... checked into a few things. Every indication is that she's at the Hope Institute. She was even wearing one of their yellow hospital gowns. But I can't get a single answer. Not from anyone. And now I'm being followed."
Zach looked grim. "I don't like the sound of this."
"But you don't sound shocked. Why?"
A flicker of discomfort.
"Zach, tell me what you're thinking."
Again, his jaw set. "Those things you checked into. Did they bring you to your father?"
Victoria stared, an unpleasant sense of foreboding forming in her stomach. "Why?"
"For once, just answer me. Did the details you pieced together come from your father?"
Warning bells sounded in her head.
Whatever Zach was pumping her for involved a lot more than her father's callous attempt to protect his family name. It involved something illegal. She had to tread carefully, to remember who Zach was. He was no longer her lover. He was a virtual stranger—one who worked for the FBI. Conversely, her father was still her father. Anything she said about him might be 'more than emotionally revealing. It might be incriminating.
Whatever uneasy feeling she had about her father's actions, she had no reason to suspect he was committing a felony. She wouldn't give the FBI fuel for a fire that might not exist.
"Victoria," Zach prodded. "You found out about the Hope Institute from someone. They're unlisted. There's no information on them anywhere. That leaves word of mouth. We have proof your father's aware of their existence. Did he discuss the clinic with you?"
"No" was her honest reply.
She saw the comprehension in Zach's eyes, watched him weigh his options. "What if I were to promise that whatever you said stayed with me? Would you talk to me then? Not just for my sake—for yours. Yes, it's my investigation. But it's your sister. I might be able to help you get to the bottom of her disappearance."
Damn him for doing this to her. Damn him for being one of the few people she'd ever turned to, maybe the only one she could count on in this case. They both knew he was in possession of facts that no one else had, and that he had the power to use those facts to her advantage.
He could help her find Audrey.
But at what cost?
The decision was pivotal. And it was hers to make.
"Victoria," he added pointedly, reading her thoughts. "Have I ever betrayed your trust?"
There was no argument there.
Wavering, she chewed her lip. She could feel the scales tip in his favor. Still, she was determined to state her position loud and clear so there would be no misunderstandings.
"Whatever I have is circumstantial and off the record," she clarified. "I have nothing to say to the FBI."
A flicker of admiration—and acceptance. "Understood. The question is, what have you got to say to me?"
* * *
10
Victoria sucked in her breath and took the plunge.
"The details I put together on the Hope Institute did come from my father, only not directly." And not willingly hung in the air as clearly as if she'd said the words aloud. "When I called my father about Audrey, I had the feeling he wasn't telling me everything he knew. So I looked at his phone records. He made two calls to the Hope Institute, one of them directly to their aviation group. And, before that, he made a call to Florence Hospital. My suspicion is that Audrey got sick, he flew her home, and he's trying to save face by keeping her hidden."
"It might be a lot more than face he's saving," Zach muttered.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning it's very possible your father's involvement with the Hope Institute extends far beyond Audrey. He might be up to his corporate neck in their illegal activities."
"Illegal activities." Victoria spoke each word slowly and distinctly as Zach's accusation sank in. It wasn't unexpected after what Zach had told her, but it was painful, nonetheless. "Are you basing this entirely on what I just confided in you?"
"Of course not." He pushed away from the desk, paced to the back of his chair, and faced her. "Your instincts are right. About the Hope Institute, and about your father. I don't know how deep his involvement is. That's part of what I'm working on. But let me fill in a few pieces. The Hope Institute is a private medical facility. It used to be part of a larger corporate conglomerate, a health-care organization that owned hospitals all over the world. But the Institute was sold off several years ago. It seems that its parent company had made several acquisitions. Proceeds from the sale of the Hope Institute were used to reduce the debt that financed those acquisitions. At the time of the sale, everything was aboveboard, and the Hope Institute was legitimate."
"But now it's not." Victoria inclined her head in question. "Who was the parent company?"
"Hopewell Industries." Zach paused and gauged her reaction. "You're familiar with it?"
A slow nod. "Benjamin Hopewell's company. My father has represented Mr. Hopewell, personally and professionally, for thirty years." Victoria chewed her lower lip, trying to make sense out of all this. "Who did Mr. Hopewell sell to?"
"That's just it. The buyer was a Swiss holding company. That's all we know. Who's at the helm is a mystery, but whoever it is, they're using the facility to distribute drugs."
"Were all ties severed between Hopewell Industries and the Hope Institute after the sale?"
"Nope. The Institute buys surgical supplies and services from Hopewell. That was part of the deal."
Victoria tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "So the FBI thinks Benjamin Hopewell still has a hand in this, that he only sold on paper, so he could branch out into this d
irty operation but make it look like his hands were clean."
Zach didn't avert his gaze. "It's possible, and if so, his legal counsel is probably just as dirty."
Odd. Victoria felt more sickened than shocked. Maybe she wasn't convinced. Or maybe she wasn't surprised.
"You said there was someone following you," Zach pressed. "When did this someone first appear?"
"Saturday night. I first noticed him around three in the morning. For all I know, he'd been following me all evening. I didn't see him again until last night. He tracked me home from Uncle Jim and Aunt Clarissa's. Then he hovered around my apartment all night."
"We both know the Hope Institute sent him." Zach shot her an astute look. "And you have a pretty good idea what prompted them to do so."
"Not an idea, a suspicion." A pointed arch of her brows. "Unless, of course, it's the FBI, not the Hope Institute, keeping tabs on me."
"It isn't." Zach's response was immediate and definitive. "The FBI didn't even know who you were until their surveillance tape picked you up walking in and out of there yesterday." A pause. "You have my word."
She nodded.
"So what do you think provoked the Institute to tail you?"
Victoria chewed her lip, then blurted out her suspicions. "Audrey managed to say a few words to me. Before she lost consciousness, she mumbled what I believe to be a phone number, 555-0400. She also said something about danger. They must realize I know something. Either they overheard her talking to me, or they're aware I—"
"—dialed the number," Zach finished for her.
"I didn't tell you that."
"You didn't have to. I know you."
Self-consciously, she cleared her throat, wishing he wasn't right, wishing he didn't know her as well as he did.
Wishing he didn't have the ability to render her so off-balance.
"A recording told me I'd reached the wrong number," she acknowledged. "I tried a couple of times, but I couldn't get through to a person."
"Where did you make these calls from?"
"My apartment."
"Did you mention this to your father?"