Snow White Espionage (Barely a Fairy Tale Book 2) Read online

  Rodney was her father’s right-hand man at the office. A brown-noser who gave new meaning to the term weasely.

  Her father leaned forward in the bed and dropped his voice as though the room was bugged. “I don’t even know if I can trust Rodney. Who knows what Margaret will offer? It might be too good to resist.”

  “Jesus, Dad, dial down the melodrama. You’ll be back in the office in no time—”

  His lips pressed together in a thin line and for the first time she realized that he’d never said how severe the heart attack had been or how long the rehabilitation. A trickle of fear had her inhaling sharply. They might not be close but he was still her father—and the only parent she had left.

  He saw the shift in her and pounced. “Oh, don’t go getting all maudlin on me. I’m not going anywhere yet.”

  Yup, there was the father she knew and loved. The man despised weakness more than anything, which was why being frail and bedridden was most likely his worst nightmare.

  If she was a better daughter she would do as he asked out of the goodness of her heart.

  “If I do this, you’ll help me fund my own firm. You will be a silent partner, no more. Understood?”

  He studied her, probably looking for weakness. He knew very well what she intended to do with her firm. Career goals and strategies were often the topic at their monthly dinners and while he didn’t entirely approve of her pro bono efforts, he supported them nonetheless. She’d worked her ass off to become one of the most successful divorce attorneys in the city. One of the key motivators to her success was the knowledge that one day she would open a firm of her own and she could specialize in handling domestic abuse cases for women and children who felt they had nowhere else to turn.

  She was already doing pro bono work at her firm, quietly and under the radar, but she was only allowed to take on so much. Besides, she had to save up money if she was going to run her own office.

  Her father knew all this. He also knew that she was years away from being financially able to strike out on her own. He’d often hinted at helping her but there were always strings attached. His strings. But if she did this for him, she could have his money without his control. Win-win.

  He seemed to come to the same conclusion. After a moment he gave a quick nod. “Fine.”

  “I have two weeks of vacation time I can use.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not enough time.”

  To prove that he was being paranoid? It was more than enough. She was confident enough to add, “If I haven’t resolved this by then, you are under no obligation to help fund my firm.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. She’d gone straight from work to Mackenzie’s and then to his house and her father eyed her from head to toe. “Is that your typical work outfit?” She glanced down at the khakis and button-down top. Yes. Judging by the look of disapproval, her clothes were not up to Knight & Knight’s standards. “I’ll need a clothing allowance.” There was no way in hell she would dip into her own savings for this ridiculous undercover assignment.

  “Done. I want daily reports.”

  She rolled her eyes, “I think every other day will suffice.”

  “This is corporate espionage—”

  “Oh please. It’s petty rivalry, if it’s anything at all.”

  His scowl would have sent poor Rodney scurrying but she met him with an unflinching stare. “What exactly happened? What am I looking for?”

  “Rodney went to my office to get some things I’ll need while I work from home and my office door was open.”

  She waited patiently for him to continue. When he didn’t, she prompted, “And?”

  “And what? My office door is always locked. Always.”

  Exhaustion had her biting her tongue. It wouldn’t be worth it to point out all the reasons his door might have been left unlocked. Like, God forbid, human error. He was clearly too far gone with his paranoia to listen to reason. And maybe that was for the best. If he listened to logic, she wouldn’t have this opportunity. And really, it was something of a godsend. She would never have asked him for the money. Never ever. That would have given him too much power; she’d gone to great lengths to keep his influence over her life at an absolute minimum. But now, it would be a fair deal. Payment for services rendered.

  All she had to do was spend some time in the office and report back with some gossip. When the two weeks were up, she’d be on her way to opening her new office and her father would be free to continue his bizarre battle with Margaret without her.

  “I’ll start in two weeks.”

  He shook his head. “You’ll start next week.”

  She could do it, her caseload was lighter than normal and she could claim a medical emergency. “Fine. So…what’s my cover story?”

  Even as the words left her mouth she had a hard time believing she was serious. Cover story? Who was she, Nancy Drew?

  “Unfortunately they know I’m ill.” His voice was filled with disgust as he added, “I collapsed in the office, in the middle of a conference call, if you can believe it.”

  As if showing weakness was the worst possible outcome of a heart attack.

  “So there’s no use pretending I’m out of the office on vacation,” he continued.

  “No one would believe that anyway,” she added. “Have you ever taken a vacation?”

  He ignored her. “I’ll tell Rodney to spread the word that I’ve asked you to temporarily take over my cases. They’ll just think I’m being paranoid—”

  “They’ll be right,” she pointed out.

  He leveled her with a look so serious it was all she could do to keep from grinning back. “Jenna, tell me honestly. Do you think you can handle this?”

  “Pretend I’m your daughter and a lawyer?” Her lips curved up in a smirk. “Yeah, I think I got it.”

  Chapter Two

  In the three years that he’d been working as a private investigator, Hunter rarely found the experience to be anything like the movies.

  Until today.

  In a dimly lit pub, he sat opposite an older woman with a scarf draped over her head, tied below her chin. From the Birkin bag to the telltale tautness of the skin at her neck that screamed nip-tuck, it was clear she was wealthy. His new client also seemed to be wholeheartedly embracing the experience of talking to a private eye. If he had to guess, he’d say she’d been a fan of Dick Tracy as a kid.

  “Is the disguise necessary, Ms. Knight?” he asked, more out of curiosity than actual concern about whatever danger she seemed to think she was in.

  The blonde sniffed and readjusted her oversized sunglasses. “Of course it is,” she whispered. He could point out that the only other occupants of the bar on this Saturday morning—two barflies and bartender—hardly seemed interested in eavesdropping. He also might mention that wearing sunglasses in a dark bar was more likely to draw attention rather than divert it but, to be honest, this meeting was the most entertaining he’d had in quite a while so he decided to sit back and enjoy.

  “Someone tried to hack into my personal computer.” Her lips pulled together in a tight line.

  She looked annoyed, not scared, which was a good indicator that she had a suspicion of who was behind the alleged hacking. “Any idea who, Ms. Knight?”

  “Call me Margaret. And yes, I know exactly who was behind it. Donald Knight.”

  He arched a brow in surprise. He’d done a quick background check on his new client and the name was familiar. “Your partner?”

  “Partner is a loose term, Mr. McCaffrey—”

  “Hunter,” he said. “And how so?”

  “Donald is too greedy to be a true partner. He wants all the business for himself and once he gets my largest client, he’ll try to get me out of his firm once and for all, I know it.”

  “Do you have any proof that Donald was involved?” It had to be asked, though he was certain he already knew the answer.

  “Of course not. If I did, why would I hire you?”

 
Right. He’d seen that coming. The next question had to be asked with some tact—not his specialty. “And you’re, uh…certain that you were hacked?”

  Her brows shot up from behind the sunglasses. “Of course I’m sure.”

  Most paranoid people were. Hunter had gotten good at keeping his opinions to himself, particularly when it came to wealthy clients. He would bet money this woman had seen one too many spy movies and was finding intrigue where there was none. Before he could rephrase the question, she continued. “If you think I’m making this up, Hunter—I assure you, I am not. My IT department alerted me to the fact that a phishing email was sent to my account. Why else would they do that if it wasn’t to get my personal information and try to hack into my files?”

  Ah. So they hadn’t hacked her computer, they’d sent a phishing email. Big difference, but he refrained from explaining that at the moment. “How do you know it was part of Donald’s plot?”

  She narrowed her eyes in clear annoyance. “Who else would do that? The email was for a special at a certain spa that I go to. No one knows I go there except for some close friends and Donald.”

  “Uh huh.” So far he wasn’t seeing the connection.

  “First of all, I never get emails from the spa. Second, they sent me an ad for a special that they’d discontinued.”

  “Okay.” He tried to look more interested than he felt. He was fairly certain he failed. He could think of any number of ways a criminal would know what spa she went to. “Did your IT department look into it?”

  She sniffed as if offended by the question. “Of course. They found out that it came from within our office.” Leaning forward, she added in a low voice, “So you see, it must be Donald.”

  He saw no such thing, though he was intrigued that it had been traced back to the office. “Is Donald good with computers?”

  She scoffed at that. “No, he’s a technophobe, but he has any number of tech-savvy minions who could do it for him.” Dropping her voice again, she nearly whispered, “Supposedly he had a heart attack. Ha! As if that man even has a heart. I think he’s lying low, letting his flunkies do his dirty work while he plots from his penthouse.”

  He had to admit he hadn’t seen the heart attack coming. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice as well. “Faking a heart attack? Clearly a worthy adversary.” He found he was rather getting into the spirit of things. Maybe at his next client meeting he’d don a fedora. “Wouldn’t you prefer to leave this to your IT department? Surely they can do more—”

  “I don’t trust anyone in the office. It’s impossible to know who’s loyal to that man.”

  “And so you want to hire me.”

  She lowered her sunglasses then to meet his gaze. “Precisely.”

  “I can look into the hacking. Run some background checks on—”

  “I want you to come and work at the office. You’ll be undercover, of course.”

  Of course. As she rattled on with the details of this arrangement—apparently he was to pose as an environmental consultant—he tried to find a moment to interject. Not only was going undercover overkill at this point, but it wasn’t something he typically did. He would tell her that just as soon as she came up for air.

  “I’m well aware of your rates—I did my homework, you see. You come highly recommended by my contacts at the police department and I realize I’d be asking you to prioritize my case over your other clients. I am fully prepared to compensate accordingly.”

  Now he was listening.

  “I’ll pay your hourly rate, of course. And should you apprehend the traitor who’s behind this espionage, I’ll add a bonus.” The number she quoted made his jaw drop and wiped away any thoughts of refusing. That would be more than enough for him to start over in Chicago.

  “When do you want me to start?”

  As far as Monday mornings went, his was off to a horrendous start. His subway was delayed, the only suit he owned had been wrinkled almost beyond repair, and he’d had to tear apart his closet to find a tie.

  And now, he’d finally made it to the office building and he couldn’t figure out how the damn elevators worked. When he’d first arrived he’d rushed to the elevator banks, flashing his new employee badge Margaret had hooked him up with at the security guards in the lobby. A group of suit-clad men were just stepping onto an elevator so he’d hopped on behind them.

  It wasn’t until the doors had slid closed behind him that he realized there were no buttons inside. The elevator shot up, hurtling past the lower floors and started ticking off the floors starting at twenty-five. When it came to a stop at thirty-three, the men filed out of the elevator, not seeming to notice that he was stranded in an elevator that he couldn’t control.

  He needed to get to the seventieth floor but with no button to push he was taken back down to the lobby. Now he faced the elevator doors and debated risking the humiliation of asking the security guard how the hell he could get to his floor.

  “You must be new to New York,” a husky, sexy-as-hell voice said from behind him.

  Turning he spotted the owner of the voice and the woman who matched the voice. Sexy. Polished. Sleek. Everything about her was elegant, from her black hair to her stiletto black heels. The fitted black jacket and matching skirt that came down to her knees said she was a successful executive. The bright-red silk shirt beneath was the only pop of color and it perfectly matched her red lipstick.

  Holy shit, this woman was out of his league. And her slow, shit-eating grin told him she knew it.

  He straightened his tie as best he could as he looked back toward the elevators. New to New York? Hardly. He’d been born and raised less than a mile away. First time in a Park Avenue skyscraper? Absolutely. Forcing an aw-shucks smile, he said, “First day.”

  Her smile was mocking and more than a little condescending as she moved past him and pointed toward a sensor on the wall. “Wave your badge in front of this and it will show you which elevator to get on.”

  Aha. So he was, in fact, an idiot.

  “Don’t sweat it,” the goddess said. “It happens to the best of us.”

  Awesome. Now the hottest woman on the planet was patronizing him. This day couldn’t get much worse. “Something tells me this never happened to you.”

  Her lips compressed slightly as she held back from outright laughing at him. “Well, no. Not to me personally.”

  She was so classy. So put together. He was nearly overcome with the urge to pull her close and kiss her until her lipstick was smudged and her hair a ratted mess. Where the fuck had that come from? He cleared his throat and forced away elevator fantasies. “Thank you.”

  She shrugged. “It’s my first day too. Us newbies have to stick together, right?”

  The elevator dinged then and for a moment he thought he had his escape—but then the beauty got on with him, giving him that patient smile—the kind one might bestow on an old, dotty aunt—before turning her face up to watch the floor numbers fly by.

  “Looks like we’re going to the same floor,” he said.

  She turned to him with that same benevolent smile and arched her eyebrows.

  Very good, Einstein. Now why don’t you tell her something else she doesn’t know. Like how the sky is blue.

  She would have known that jawline anywhere. But he, apparently, hadn’t recognized her. Of course he hadn’t. The last time she’d seen him was more than three years ago when she was still at the district attorney’s office.

  She’d sat in on a trial where he was a witness. He looked exactly the same—same strong features, same tousled brown hair, same five o’clock shadow, despite the fact that he’d most likely just shaved.

  She, however, looked like a different woman. Back then she’d had hair down to her waist and she’d never taken the time to straighten it so it had pretty much always been a frizzy, wavy mess. And she definitely hadn’t been able to afford the kind of outfit she was wearing today. Hell, she still couldn’t afford these clothes without her father’s clothing
allowance.

  Still, she’d recognized him the moment she spotted him scowling at the elevators like a caveman seeing fire for the first time.

  It had been cute, actually.

  The question was—what was he doing here? They were both heading to the same floor, as he’d so astutely pointed out. But the thing was—Knight & Knight occupied that entire floor.

  First day, he’d said. So did that mean he was no longer on the police force? And, for that matter, what the hell was his name?

  She turned to face him as they ascended to their floor. “I’m Jenna, by the way.”

  “Mark,” he said. “Mark Wayne.”

  It was with effort that she kept her smile in place. She couldn’t remember his name, but that was not it. She would bet her life on it. How did she know? She and one of her work buddies had dubbed him Officer Hottie. Because he was hot, obviously, but also as a play on his name—that much she remembered. His name started with an H. But was it his first name or his last name?

  Besides, if his last name had been Wayne, she would have come up with a Batman-related nickname. That much she knew for certain.

  So why was he lying?

  As the elevator came to a stop and the doors started to slide open, she forced her attention back to the present. They walked together in silence toward the large, wooden, double-doors that loomed before them.

  If “Mark Wayne” had pieced it together that they were both starting work at the same company, he didn’t comment. At least she had the upper hand—she’d been to this office before, multiple times. The last time had been to pick her father up for their monthly lunch date.

  She led the way through the doors and up to the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist was new, or at least new to her. A young, attractive blonde, she flashed them a bright smile as they approached.

  “Hi, I’m Andrea. Welcome to Knight & Knight,” she said.

  Jenna reached out a hand. “I’m Jenna Knight, nice to meet you.”

  The young woman stood as she took her hand and her smile grew even bigger. “Great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”