table, Cavanaugh clammed up, pretended to be insulted by her line of questioning. His cooperation came to a grinding halt. Becca had discovered his trigger—an Achilles' heel. Score one for the visiting team.
"At this stage of my investigation, I have to look at anything and everything, Mr. Cavanaugh."
His composure had vanished. "If you are asking if someone within my corporation would do this, the answer is no, Detective." Cavanaugh set his coffee cup down and stood. "This conversation is over. Anything else I can do for you?"
Becca had been dismissed.
"No, sir. That will do for now. You've been very helpful." She stood and reached for her casebook to retrieve a business card. "If you think of anything else, please contact me."
Although Cavanaugh took her card, he never glanced at it. The man had no intention of picking up where they'd left off. The next move would be hers.
"Diego will see you to the front door," the man ordered.
As Cavanaugh left the room, gesturing for Brogan to follow him, Becca caught a distinct reaction from Diego. His double take gave him away. Cavanaugh's directive had surprised him. And he didn't appreciate being odd man out.
"I can find my own way out. After all, I am a detective," she teased. And in her best Hispanic accent, she added, "I can detect such things."
Diego looked distracted and totally missed her impersonation of him. The man watched Cavanaugh leave the room with Brogan and his beady-eyed stare that only a coiled rattler would understand.
"Why didn't you—?"
Before she finished her thought, Diego flashed her an intense look coupled with a subtle shake of his head, cautioning her to keep quiet.
"No trouble, Detective. It will be my pleasure to escort you out."
They walked in silence, his hand touching the small of her back. Although she tried to ignore his gesture, the feel of his fingers on her body kindled a surge of adrenaline she couldn't control. Toe-curling stuff. With cheeks flushed, she set her jaw. No way she would acknowledge his effect on her.
"This estate has eyes and ears," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, not looking her way.
Becca knew the clack of her heels on the tile floor would make audio surveillance difficult, but video was another story. So she kept her eyes straight ahead and her voice low.
"We gotta talk," she muttered.
"Not here," he whispered. When they got to the front door, Diego reached for the knob and opened it. In a louder voice, he added, "Good day, Detective."
Diego Galvan looked edgy, his unflappable facade a distant memory. And his dark eyes darted back the way they'd come, his jaw taut with tension. Something had caused him to lose his cool. She had to admit that seeing him like this did a number on her head. But her head was the least of her problems. Her body had a mind of its own.
Diego stood close enough for her to feel the warmth off his skin, mixed with his subtle cologne—a potent combination. Although the man tried to maintain his distance, his eyes conveyed another message altogether. They held a sense of danger mixed with an ironclad humanity, an intriguing labyrinth she had to explore.
Becca narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to ask him how and when he would contact her. Instead, she walked out the front door, taking her first step toward trust. Besides, playing a little cloak-and-dagger with gorgeous eyes wouldn't ruin the rest of her day. Diego looked like a man who wanted to talk. A perfect match.
She wanted to hear whatever he had to say ... to a point.
Becca merged the Crown Vic into traffic on I-10 with a lot on her mind. Diego's words of warning about Cavanaugh were dead on the money. The man gave her a serious case of the creeps, triggering a gut reaction that the affluent pillar of the community hid something, especially where Global Enterprises was concerned. But as she replayed the interview with Cavanaugh in her head, her cell phone rang.
"Montgomery."
"Becca? Where are you?"
She
"At this stage of my investigation, I have to look at anything and everything, Mr. Cavanaugh."
His composure had vanished. "If you are asking if someone within my corporation would do this, the answer is no, Detective." Cavanaugh set his coffee cup down and stood. "This conversation is over. Anything else I can do for you?"
Becca had been dismissed.
"No, sir. That will do for now. You've been very helpful." She stood and reached for her casebook to retrieve a business card. "If you think of anything else, please contact me."
Although Cavanaugh took her card, he never glanced at it. The man had no intention of picking up where they'd left off. The next move would be hers.
"Diego will see you to the front door," the man ordered.
As Cavanaugh left the room, gesturing for Brogan to follow him, Becca caught a distinct reaction from Diego. His double take gave him away. Cavanaugh's directive had surprised him. And he didn't appreciate being odd man out.
"I can find my own way out. After all, I am a detective," she teased. And in her best Hispanic accent, she added, "I can detect such things."
Diego looked distracted and totally missed her impersonation of him. The man watched Cavanaugh leave the room with Brogan and his beady-eyed stare that only a coiled rattler would understand.
"Why didn't you—?"
Before she finished her thought, Diego flashed her an intense look coupled with a subtle shake of his head, cautioning her to keep quiet.
"No trouble, Detective. It will be my pleasure to escort you out."
They walked in silence, his hand touching the small of her back. Although she tried to ignore his gesture, the feel of his fingers on her body kindled a surge of adrenaline she couldn't control. Toe-curling stuff. With cheeks flushed, she set her jaw. No way she would acknowledge his effect on her.
"This estate has eyes and ears," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, not looking her way.
Becca knew the clack of her heels on the tile floor would make audio surveillance difficult, but video was another story. So she kept her eyes straight ahead and her voice low.
"We gotta talk," she muttered.
"Not here," he whispered. When they got to the front door, Diego reached for the knob and opened it. In a louder voice, he added, "Good day, Detective."
Diego Galvan looked edgy, his unflappable facade a distant memory. And his dark eyes darted back the way they'd come, his jaw taut with tension. Something had caused him to lose his cool. She had to admit that seeing him like this did a number on her head. But her head was the least of her problems. Her body had a mind of its own.
Diego stood close enough for her to feel the warmth off his skin, mixed with his subtle cologne—a potent combination. Although the man tried to maintain his distance, his eyes conveyed another message altogether. They held a sense of danger mixed with an ironclad humanity, an intriguing labyrinth she had to explore.
Becca narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to ask him how and when he would contact her. Instead, she walked out the front door, taking her first step toward trust. Besides, playing a little cloak-and-dagger with gorgeous eyes wouldn't ruin the rest of her day. Diego looked like a man who wanted to talk. A perfect match.
She wanted to hear whatever he had to say ... to a point.
Becca merged the Crown Vic into traffic on I-10 with a lot on her mind. Diego's words of warning about Cavanaugh were dead on the money. The man gave her a serious case of the creeps, triggering a gut reaction that the affluent pillar of the community hid something, especially where Global Enterprises was concerned. But as she replayed the interview with Cavanaugh in her head, her cell phone rang.
"Montgomery."
"Becca? Where are you?"
She
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