Deadly Alliance Read Free

the other side of the street.
    Her gaze dipped to where his fingers wrapped around her elbow then bounced up. “Our species is flawed.”
    “Sometimes. Can I drive you home?”
    “No, I’m taking that taxi.” She blinked her eyes several times before a hearty attitude clicked into place.
    He whistled for the cab.
    “That cab isn’t going to drive itself. I’ve got the keys.” She held them high and jingled them.
    As she hurried away, he tracked her khaki jacket as she scurried along rows of cars to the taxi. After her car door shut, he headed toward his office where a long night awaited him.
    A car revved behind him. At the sound of a double beep, he turned and waved at Amy’s taxi.
    * * *
    Except for the full moon illuminating his corner office, Finn’s desk lamp was his only light. He tightened his fingers over the mouse as he reviewed month-end accounts receivables.
    He fully expected this cruel ritual. When zeroing in on his company’s bank balance, cut by an eighth, a twinge shot up his back.
    Another hour and then another passed as he hunched over his computer. With the air circulation turned off, now and then he wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. His arms crossed on the desk, he cradled his head over them and feared the day when his shareholders learned of the missing cash.
    The horror was in the continuity, the ongoing insomnia, the gastric upset. Making up the difference wouldn’t matter. He’d be powerless to pacify his clients. Looking at the oblivious blue monitor, he placed a hand over his frantic chest. He had to do something fast.
    At times like this, his stint as an Army Ranger after 9/11 felt simplistic. He executed diverse operations against enemies of terrorism. He looked through a sight. The red dot locked on the target, and he fired.
    Now he faced a catastrophe, soon to ruin his business and reputation. He refused to let it turn him from an honest man into a renegade. He upheld honor, valor, and duty to uncover truth.
    Yesterday, he did a bit of digging and phoned every client. Using the excuse of personally monitor portfolios, he gave them a friendly heads-up to discuss their investments and their bill. Nothing was amiss.
    Every month, after documenting his audit trail of loss, he brought a copy to the sheriff, his routine for three damn years. He blinked his tired eyes, dry from staring at the pixel-glare. The clock at the bottom of his screen read 3:00 a.m. As he stewed in righteous indignation, he reopened his bank account summary.
    Numb in his autopilot state, having eliminated every possible business routine, he focused on software.
    Never a gracious loser, he prayed for adrenaline to fuel him. Leaning close, he scrolled slowly through the deposit number column. It had to be here, a seamless overlay like a cancer. Someone knew what they were doing, and he shuddered at the timing.
    The cesspit began after Lester Kelly was shot in a random drive-by. His partner wasn’t granted a quick, merciful death. Les lingered in a brainless state, cared for by Amy until his body gave up months before. It was illogical to pin this robbery on a dead man, but what about her? Finn gazed at the pile of applicants for the open bookkeeping job.
    His staff accountant, Brad Rosenberg, after interviewing contenders, placed Amy’s application on top with a note. Amy worked as a sportswear designer, was employed as a taxi driver, but knew advanced features of Excel.
    His jaw was tight enough to crack walnuts. A second later his mind skidded on Amy’s effort to help Burlie, solidifying her as a do-gooder. For three years, the bleeding heart cared for her ex-boyfriend. Again, why? They were no longer together. She volunteered with Bayliss McGill, the sheriff’s wife, to help foster kids. The two hikers, Amy and Bayliss, even picked up trash. Hell, she used to sit by his lonely dad at office holiday parties.
    His nerve endings tingled with suspicion. Amy had taken her place alongside Les. More