Hard As Ice

Book 1: Fortis Novel

by Raven Scott

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Multicultural & Interracial Romance; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

When money is no object, discretion is essential, and time is of the essence, the police are not an option. That’s when the wealthy and powerful call on the men of Fortis—a trio of former government agents with elite military training—not to mention charm and good looks… Now that Evan DaCosta has recovered from an injury sustained in his work with the CIA, he’s ready to continue his life of adventure, intrigue, and service. That means joining Fortis—and taking on the recovery of precious jewels stolen from a prestigious auction house. The list of suspects is long, but Evan is focused on the possibility of an inside job. Now he’ll have to go undercover and stay close to the gorgeous business manager, Nia James. That won’t be a problem….But if she’s the thief, she just may steal his heart in the process… A gifted salesperson, Nia worked hard to get where she is today. Now, with her career at stake, she can’t afford to be distracted by a man. Yet when Evan walks into the auction house, all six foot three of solid muscle poured into a tailored suit, Nia can’t help feeling safe, protected—and turned on. The feeling is mutual, and soon, despite their private misgivings, Nia and Evan become intensely entangled. But can their relationship survive their secrets?...

Release date: July 28, 2015

Publisher: Dafina

Print pages: 352

Sample

“How’s your first assignment so far, Ice?”

The teasing question came through the video connection from one of the large-panel screen monitors set up around the room. It was from Lucas Johnson, his friend and business partner.

“Well, it’s been twenty hours and I haven’t been shot yet,” Evan replied. “But it’s still early.”

Lucas laughed.

“Looks like you’ll have to get used to the slower pace of civilian work. You might not be under fire for a few days in.”

Evan shifted his stance and felt the pull of tight scar tissue in his thigh. The bullet wound was a souvenir from his final CIA mission in Azerbaijan eight months ago. It had been a long road to recovery, including an early retirement from government service. Now, he was a managing partner with Fortis, a full-solution security firm, along with his best friend, Lucas Johnson, and their third partner, Sam Mackenzie. They had a team of twenty-two specialized field agents, technicians, and operations analysts with experience from all branches of elite government service.

As Lucas mentioned, this Boston assignment was Evan’s first with Fortis. He was leading a team of three agents on the ground to solve a multimillion-dollar jewelry heist, and recover the assets within a matter of weeks.

“I’ll do my best not to get bored,” Evan retorted with a hint of a smile.

“Looks like you guys are set up there?”

“Yeah. The additional surveillance is up and running through the building,” Evan confirmed. “Michael and Raymond are on-site since early this morning to start the investigation,” Evan replied, referring to two of the Fortis agents working on the ground for the mission.

Lucas nodded. His high-definition screen was so sharp, he could have been standing right next to Evan instead of over five hundred miles away in Virginia.

“Yup, we have the images from the Worthington building coming through here, now. When are you going in?” asked Lucas.

Evan checked the time. It was eleven forty-five in the morning. According to their client, Edward Worthington, the key subject usually took lunch at twelve-thirty each day, and had no appointments in her calendar for that afternoon.

“I’m headed to the auction house in a few minutes. I should make first contact before one o’clock,” he confirmed.

“Okay. I’ve assigned two of our analysts here to do the preliminary research on the other employees. I’ve sent you what we have so far on James,” Lucas explained.

“Got it. I’ll review on my cell phone, and give you an update later.”

They ended the video call. Evan did a final check on the surveillance equipment. He and his team were based in two hotel suites in downtown Boston, several blocks from their client’s offices. One suite served as Evan’s temporary residence while in the city as part of his cover, and his three agents were staying in the connected room. In there, two powerful six-core CPUs were connected to four forty-two inch LED flat-screen monitors set up around the living room, creating a control center. Evan looked around the various live feeds, all showing a different view of the Worthington business offices, the large art gallery in the front, and the warehouse in the back. It was a quiet day, with only four employees on the corporate floor, and three in the gallery and warehouse. His gaze landed on the image of Nia James, his target subject, as she sat behind her office desk reviewing several documents. He watched her for a few moments, until his cell phone rang.

“Yeah,” he answered briskly, noting it was his third agent, Tony Donellio, assigned to local reconnaissance.

“Hey, Ice, I’m at her apartment.” Evan clenched his jaw at the nickname. It was a remnant from his time in the CIA. Though he had left the agency, the Fortis team insisted on using it. That was mostly because Lucas chose to forget his real name.

“Good, do a full search and wire the place up so we have eyes throughout. Then, you’re searching the security guard’s place, right?” Evan asked.

“Yeah,” confirmed Tony. “His shift at Worthington doesn’t start until six tonight, but our intel says he’s usually at the gym by three o’clock in the afternoon. I’ll be there by about one-thirty to have a look around the area.”

“Good. He’s the weak link. With nothing of use captured on the Worthington surveillance videos, and no signs of forced entry, there’s no way he wasn’t involved in the heist. Raymond and Michael are interviewing him tomorrow, but we need to find something on him to use as leverage. I’ll meet you back at control later this afternoon.”

“Got it,” confirmed Tony.

Evan hung up and checked the time again. With one more hard glance at the subject, he checked the clip of his Glock and slid it smoothly in the small belt holster secured against the right side of his back. He added his suit jacket before leaving the hotel room.

In the lobby, the concierge gave him a friendly nod.

“How are you doing, Mr. DaCosta?” asked the middle-aged man, well dressed in a tailored suit.

“I’m good, Carlos. How are you?” Evan replied smoothly.

“Very good, sir. Shall I get your car for you?”

“Please.”

Carlos waived at one of the valet attendants to request Evan’s car to be brought around.

Worthington was an easy enough walk into the center of downtown, but Evan’s cover required the image of wealth and prestige, and that didn’t include a brisk walk in balmy May weather. His leased car, a sleek black Bentley, was brought to the front door within a few moments, and Evan smoothly made his way through the streets of Boston.

The Worthington Gallery and Auction House was a small chain owned by Edward Worthington. It had expanded from a single storefront operation based in Connecticut into a national player in the world of arts, jewelry, and estate auctioning over the last twenty years. They now had five locations across the country, a solid reputation, record sales, and plans to expand into Europe. All of that was now in jeopardy. Two nights ago, their Boston office was robbed in a meticulously executed jewelry heist. The thieves managed to enter the warehouse undetected and break into a digital safe, all while bypassing the state-of-the art surveillance and security system.

The stolen jewelry included a white diamond necklace with a rare 13.16 carat pear-shaped red diamond in the center, known as the Crimson Amazon. The piece was scheduled to be exhibited around the world prior to the auction at the end of August. According to appraisals and expert opinion, that necklace alone should fetch over twenty-five million dollars. Along with a broader collection of rare and high-end jewelry pieces, the summer event was now anticipated to be one of the highest-value auctions in years, certainly the biggest in Worthington’s history. It would put the company solidly on the map as a major North American player.

Within twelve hours of discovering the robbery, Edward Worthington hired Fortis. Evan and his team of highly trained protection and asset recovery specialists now had under six weeks to find the thieves and recover the jewels intact. As with most of Fortis’s assignments, confidentiality and discretion were critical. If Worthington’s clients or anyone in the industry discovered this massive breach in security, the auction house would be ruined. Which meant police involvement was not the preferred option at this stage. Fortis had the skills and resources in security, surveillance, investigations, and threat neutralization to quickly and stealthily deliver services to their high-end clients, all without the bureaucratic restrictions of law enforcement.

Evan arrived at the Worthington offices at a few minutes to one o’clock. He parked on the street in a spot where he could see the storefront. With a few moments to spare, he took out his phone to review the file Lucas had sent. Most of it was old information provided by the client in their initial meeting. It confirmed that other than the owner, only one employee knew when the Crimson Amazon necklace had been delivered, and only one had the combination to the safe: Nia James, the managing director. The digital copy of her employee identification photo showed a young woman with a rectangular face and sculpted cheekbones. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, accentuating the feline angle of her dark eyes.

Evan scrolled through the other documents to see if there was anything new or revealing about her. Twenty-six years old, valid driver’s license, no passport. Born and raised in Detroit, moved to Boston eight years ago to attend college as a part-time student. Worked as a waitress, then graduated four years ago with a B.A. in Business. Senior sales manager at a jewelry store before being hired at Worthington eleven months ago. Clean criminal record, except for a sealed juvenile file.

A tire squeal and a honked horn caught Evan’s attention. He looked up to assess the situation and it was easy to see the distraction to drivers nearby. The object of his surveillance was crossing the street at the intersection in front of his car. Nia James walked with a straight, proud posture, her chin held high with bold confidence. She wore a dark skirt-suit, tailored to fit her lithe body like a fine wool wrap. Her lean legs were coppery brown, naked and elongated by high-heeled shoes in a glossy burgundy leather. Their extravagant cost was evident in the telltale red soles. Half her face was covered with oversize sunglasses and her lips were coated in a rich ruby color that accentuated their shapely fullness.

The lunchtime traffic was pretty busy, yet cars slowed as the men driving them did double takes, or stared openly. Even guys walking nearby turned to appreciate the view of her figure, both coming and going. Evan would have found the show amusing, except it uncovered a complication he hadn’t anticipated. Nia James was far more attractive in real life than her identification photos suggested. She walked with a smooth, sexy sway that told him she was very aware of her effect on men and was comfortable working it.

If his instincts were correct, and they usually were, he would have to adjust their plan accordingly.

Evan opened the driver’s door to the black Bentley convertible just as she passed in front. He slowly unfurled his tall frame to exit the car, fully aware of the impression he made: rich, powerful, young. It was an image designed to capture the attention of an opportunist, and one he’s used successfully many times as a covert operative. And like most women, Nia James responded. It was subtle, only with a slight tilt of her head in his direction, but it was enough. First goal accomplished.

She entered the premises, and Evan was only a few steps behind. The Worthington’s offices occupied the first two floors of the historical building. He had the architectural specs well mapped in his head. On the first floor, there was an art gallery and antiquities dealership, selling a wide variety of valuable collectibles on consignment. The business offices were on the second level in an open loft space, accessed from the main floor by a wide, curving staircase. The warehouse and secure storage was is the rear of the building, with a delivery bay backing onto an alley.

Evan stepped through the front doors into the large gallery with twenty-two-foot-high ceilings. The walls were lined with framed art of various types and sizes. The center space had glass display cabinets and sleek tufted white leather benches. He could easily see Nia standing near the rear of the room, next to a reception counter that was manned by another employee. But he started a slow walk around the room, stopping occasionally to admire one of the many drawings, paintings, and photographs. He also knew the moment his target left the area through the door to the warehouse.

“Hi there?”

Evan turned to find a young girl walking toward him. She was twenty-one years old, with a bright smile and even brighter blond hair. And he already knew she was the gallery receptionist and office administrator, Emma Sterling.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she continued, stopping next to him.

He smiled back.

“I hope so,” he stated. “I would like to get some information about your auction services.”

“No problem,” she replied smoothly. “Are you looking to buy or sell?”

“Sell.”

“All right. I’ll introduce you to our managing director, Nia. She’ll be able to evaluate your needs.”

The young girl turned away a little, and pressed a button on a discreet earpiece. She spoke in soft tones for a few seconds before clicking it again and facing him again.

“Nia will be with us shortly. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure, some water would be great.”

“Sparkling or flat?”

“Hmmm, flat is fine.”

“No problem, Mr. . . . ?” She raised a brow and smiled even bigger.

“Evan. Evan DaCosta.”

“Great, Mr. DaCosta. Nia will be here shortly.”

He nodded and she walked away.

About a minute later, Evan watched Nia James cross the room with the same smooth, sensuous gait he witnessed earlier. He found himself anxious to see her up close, feel how potent her attractiveness was. Not that he would be affected, of course. He’d seen her type too many times over the years to be fooled by the artifice. And glammed-up women weren’t really his type. He preferred the outdoorsy, active women who didn’t take hours to get ready. The girl next door.

Yet as this woman, their prime suspect in a ballsy jewelry heist, stopped in front of him, Evan stopped breathing.

“Mr. DaCosta,” she stated in a sultry voice, her hand extended. “I’m Nia James. I understand that you’d like to hear more about our auction services?”

She looked up to meet his eyes squarely. Hers were a warm brown, with speckles of copper and honey. Evan cleared his throat, matching her firm handshake. Tiny sparks sizzled up his forearm.

“Nice to meet you, Miss James. I was told Worthington would be able to help with an estate auction?”

They were interrupted before she could respond.

“Here you go, Mr. DaCosta,” stated the receptionist as she handed him a chilled bottle of fancy imported spring water.

“Thank you. And it’s Evan, please. Mr. DaCosta was my father.”

Emma giggled, flipping back her silky blond hair. Evan thought he caught Nia roll her eyes, but it was the tiniest movement, and her pleasant, polite smile didn’t waver.

“Thanks, Emma,” added Nia. The young girl nodded and walked away.

“Yes, we handle estate sales,” continued Nia smoothly. “Depending on what items are involved, we could provide support for an on-site event, as part of a larger auction, or here through our consignment sales. We’ve also done several successful online auctions if that’s something you’re interested in.”

Evan nodded, taking a small sip of his drink.

“I haven’t given it much thought, to be honest. My father died last year, and left me his collection.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” she immediately replied. Her eyes softened, causing Evan to pause. He wasn’t expecting authentic empathy. She’s really good.

“Why don’t you come up to my office, and we can go over some of the details?”

He looked at his watch.

“I have a meeting shortly, so I can’t stay now. But I can come by again later today. Is six o’clock too late?”

“I’m afraid it is. We close at five.”

“That’s unfortunate. I have to sort things out as soon as possible. I don’t have much time available over the next few weeks before I head back home to Virginia, and Worthington comes very highly recommended.”

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” Nia offered.

“Good. If you don’t mind meeting after hours, I’m staying at the Harbor Hotel. Why don’t I make us dinner reservations tonight for six o’clock?”

It wasn’t a question, and he could see that Nia was genuinely surprised.

“Mr. DaCosta—”

“Evan, please.”

“Evan, that’s not necessary.”

“Sure it is. If you need to work late to meet me, the least I can do is feed you,” he dismissed her qualms while pulling a business card out of his inside jacket pocket. “My cell phone number is on there, and my assistant’s.”

“But—”

Evan’s phone rang, interrupting additional protests.

“Sorry, I have to take this. See you at six,” he told her with a nod, then turned to walk briskly across the gallery floor. “Tony, what do you have?”

“The security guard is on the move,” the agent stated. “He’s on foot, carrying a duffel bag and looks pretty agitated.”

“Did he make you?” Evan asked. He was now outside and getting into his car.

“Negative. I just arrived when he burst out of the back entrance of his building. Something spooked him and it wasn’t me. I’d bet my paycheck that he’s skipping town.”

“Follow him,” instructed Evan as he revved the engine. “I’ve got your location and I’m on my way.”

He hung up the phone, then pulled the Bentley smoothly out into traffic, headed toward the Boston neighborhood of Dorchester.

“Wow, he was hot!”

Nia gave Emma an exasperated glance. They were back at the reception desk in the rear of the gallery.

“You think every rich guy who walks in here is hot,” Nia replied.

“Not like that. I haven’t seen anything that yummy in a long time. Rich or not,” Emma surmised. “It’s just an observation. I’m not interested or anything. I’m seeing someone.”

Nia raised an eyebrow but didn’t bother to respond. She didn’t have time for idle chitchat about men or relationships.

“Has the courier arrived yet?” she asked instead, changing the subject.

“Yup, here you go.”

Emma handed her a bundle of envelopes and parcels.

“Thanks,” Nia added

“Oh, and Edward’s going to be here at about two o’clock this afternoon. Are you still available to meet with him?” Emma asked.

“Of course. My calendar is up to date, so just book whatever time he needs.”

Emma nodded, and Nia turned to make her way through the spacious gallery and up the stairs to her office on the second floor. She placed the packages on the desk before shrugging off her suit jacket to drape it over her chair. Once seated, she eased off her shoes and wiggled her toes to stimulate circulation. Her feet were throbbing. As much as she cherished her shoe collection, it was a love/hate relationship.

Thinking about the upcoming meeting with her boss, Edward Worthington, Nia logged into her laptop to double-check her e-mails and schedule for the rest of the afternoon. As suggested, Emma had booked ninety minutes for them to meet in Worthington’s office. It was going to be a difficult conversation, and she could not afford to be distracted by any other tasks due by the end of the day. So, she had just over an hour to get as much work done as possible.

But, first things first. Evan DaCosta appeared to be a very viable potential client. She needed to do some research on him and his family to prepare for their meeting that evening. As she launched an Internet name search, Nia nibbled on the side of her cheek, thinking about their brief conversation. It was common for her and the other account managers on her sales team to conduct meetings outside of the office. Their clients were some of the wealthiest in the northeastern United States, which meant they were often very busy and very demanding. Supporting their needs meant being available wherever and whenever they had time.

But Evan DaCosta’s suggestion for a dinner meeting had still caught her off guard. Well, it was less of a suggestion and more of a command. And her hesitation had nothing to do with how viable his business could be. While Nia would not admit it to Emma, “hot” was just one way to describe him. Gorgeous, delicious, and sexy as hell also came to mind.

Many of their clients wore Savile Row tailored suits, handmade Italian leather shoes, and Patek Philippe watches. It was her job to notice those types of details as part of the sales assessment process. But none of those things had anything to do with her first impressions of Evan DaCosta as she walked toward him in the gallery. In fact, sales potential was the last thing on her mind. Nia’s first thought had been that he was a spectacular male specimen, and it was too bad he was wearing so many layers. He was something north of six feet tall, with broad, tight shoulders that tapered into a lean torso. Her keen eye suspected the real prize was under his very expensive wrapping. Now, the thought of a dinner meeting at his hotel just heightened the inappropriate desire to peel off his clothes.

She let out a deep breath, and tried to focus on the task at hand. While her physical reaction to him as a man was completely human, now was not the time to indulge in fantasies. In the end, Evan DaCosta was no different from any other potential client and she had a job to do, while she still had one.

The Internet search results provided a couple of pages of useful information, mostly about the late Santos DaCosta. Up to his death last year, Santos was the founder and CEO of DaCosta Solutions, a major U.S. military defense contractor based in McLean, Virginia. One site had his obituary, noting that he was born and raised in Brazil where his family owned a coffee plantation. There he met and married his African-American wife Cecile Rothman while her father was the U.S. ambassador to Brazil. They moved to the U.S. soon after, settling in the D.C. area.

Another page had a picture of Santos and Cecile at a charity event a couple of years ago. Evan looked like a blend of both. He had the imposing size, rich hazelnut skin, and wavy hair of his father, but dark eyes and sensuous lips of his mother.

Nia continued to build an account file on the DaCosta family. There were some details about Evan as an only child, working overseas for his father’s company, and his appointment as the new CEO at DaCosta Solutions four months ago. There was little about his personal life. Not that she was looking.

Once she was satisfied with her research, she moved on to the various other things that needed to be done in her workday. The biggest focus was the preparation for the upcoming jewelry auction in August and the various exhibits scheduled in the weeks prior. Everything still had to be planned, despite the disastrous events on Monday night. So that’s what she would do until Edward told her differently.

When the meeting with her boss was only a few minutes away, Nia took a few quiet moments to try to calm her nerves. But it was hard. At moments like this, it was so easy to relive the sense of panic and disbelief when she opened the safe on Tuesday morning and found it empty, the Crimson Amazon necklace gone, along with half a dozen other pieces of jewelry. Even now, over eighteen hours later, Nia was still in disbelief, her heart often racing with dread. Of the nine permanent employees in the Boston office, she and Edward were the only ones who had known the diamond was in the safe, and only they knew the combination, which Edward had updated the Friday prior as an added measure of security.

With no sign of a break-in, or anything suspicious on the surveillance cameras, it was logical to assume it was an inside job. It didn’t take much to deduct she would be the first person suspected.

With another deep breath, she slipped on her shoes and walked to the much bigger office only a few feet from hers. Edward was standing behind his desk on the phone. With a slim build and a full head of hair, he was still an attractive man for fifty-five years old. He also had a kind, open face with a personality to match. Though today, his face looked much more tired and haggard than usual. Nia really enjoyed working for him, and only hoped the current situation would not put an end to that.

When he saw her waiting by the doorway, he waved her in, gesturing to the small, round table in the middle of the room. She nodded and walked over to sit in one of four chairs around it.

“How are you doing?” he asked once his call ended.

His eyes showed genuine concern. Nia felt her throat close with the urge to cry. She blinked and tried to smile.

“I’m okay,” she replied.

He walked across the room and sat beside her.

“The investigators want to meet with you tomorrow morning to review everything that happened on Monday afternoon and Tuesday when you came in,” he continued.

“Okay, but I don’t really have much else to contribute.”

“I know, but these guys are professionals. They’re hoping you’ll remember something more during the conversation.”

“You mean the interrogation,” she stated, trying really hard not to sound resentful.

Edward shrugged with one shoulder. After working together for almost a year, he was used to her blunt honesty.

“It can’t be helped, Nia. Yes, it might be uncomfortable, but I’ve hired them to solve this problem as quickly as possible. So they’re going to take the straightest route to the answers.”

“I know. Of course I’ll cooperate,” she conceded, feeling a little childish. “Are you sure this is the best approach, Edward? Shouldn’t we just call the police and the insurance company? For all we know, they’ve already taken the pieces out of the country. It’s safe to assume they’ll be broken down and sold as loose stones.”

Edward let out a deep breath and ran both hands through his gray-streaked brown hair.

“From what I’ve been told, Fortis is the best at finding things. This is what they do. If there is any chance to get the pieces back intact, I have to try. But, if we don’t have any answers back by the end of the week, then I might have to pull the plug on the whole thing.”

Nia nodded. It seemed pretty unlikely that anything could be solved within the next couple days. She had been in the jewelry industry long enough to know this was the work of professional and well-funded thieves. They weren’t waiting around to be found with the goods.

“In the meantime, it’s business as usual,” Edward continued. “Let’s look at last month’s numbers.”

They spent the remainder of the meeting reviewing the sales results from her team. As managing director for the Boston office, Nia was responsible for the overall revenue. She had four sales managers under her, all who secured new and repeat clients to sell and buy valuable inventory. Her team also included two sales coordinators who provided support for the various events scheduled every week. All the other support functions were managed by the operations manager, Chris Morton; Emma; and temporary warehouse staff when needed. It was a small team. But as the newest Worthington location, the costs needed to be kept low until they started to make a profit. If the August auction was half as successful as anticipated, it would guarantee their profitability by the end of the year. It was just one more thing that was at risk.

Nia was back in her office just after four o’clock. By the time she finally went through the stack of courier deliveries and responded to various phone and e-mail messages, it was after five. There was no time to stop at home before the meeting with Evan DaCosta. She pulled a mirror out of her desk drawer to have a look at how her makeup was holding up. With some blotting to her nose, and the reapplication of her lipstick, she’d be okay. Her skirt was a little crushed, but it couldn’t be helped. With her jacket on, it would have to do.

The hotel was only a five- or ten-minute cab ride from the office, so she continued working for another half hour. That left enough time to pack up her large purse with her laptop, power cable, and cell phone before she locked up her office and freshened up in the bathroom. Everyone else on her sales team was already gone for the night.

Down in the gallery, Emma and Chris Morton where near the main doors, locking things up.

“Hey Chris,” Nia said politely.

“Hey,” he replied, pausing to look back at her. “Have you met with those security consultants yet?” he asked.
. . .