Kahlen Aymes - Angel After Dark

Alex laughed without answering. “Don’t drown in the quagmire. It’s not worth it. See you later.”

“Yeah, later.”

Alex ended the call and immediately dialed Bancroft’s number, groaning when he got the answering service.

“I need to speak to Bancroft immediately. This is Alexander Avery.”

“Mr. Bancroft is out of the office. Would you like to leave a message?” The bland female voice on the other end of the phone inquired.

“Just tell him to call me please. It’s very important.” Alex grimaced; angry he felt such impatience over something that, two days ago, was insignificant. It isn’t an emergency, no one was dying nor millions of dollars extorted, but yet he felt anxious, clammy, and his heart rate elevated. Get a grip, Avery. What the fuck is your problem?

“I understand, sir.”

“I’m not sure you do. He’s on retainer for my company, and I need a call back in the next ten minutes.”

“I’ll try, sir. I’ll page him. Can I please have your number?”

Alex complied quickly as he left the office and headed toward his late-model, black Audi convertible. He was soon on his way out of the city, traveling north toward his estate with Aerosmith playing loudly in Dolby Surround Sound. The epitome of a rich, young executive, Alex had all the toys that one would expect in his position but gave little thought to it. He could drive a Lamborghini or live in a mansion with a full staff, but considered both obnoxious and unnecessary, though he liked luxury. He was confident and even arrogant on occasion, but it was a fine line measured by a certain degree of class. Yes, he’d grown up in a family with money, but Charles made him work for every damn thing he had and he was expected to excel. It became second nature to own responsibility for everything and everyone, and he never failed. He’d worked hard, and didn’t waste his time or energy feeling guilty. When he wanted something, he made it happen.

Would Angel Hemming be different? So far, she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met and he was acting out of sorts. Alex was stimulated beyond belief, vowing that after they met, if he wanted her, he’d have her. She fascinated him in many ways. She was beautiful from what he’d seen, but it was her intellect and sense of humor that drove his desire. He wanted to know if she was as sexy as she sounded; if the incredible confidence she exuded would carry over into the bedroom. His dick twitched at the thought.

He smiled to himself. She certainly seemed luscious in every sense of the word. The brief twinge of guilt at the prompt end of his last relationship was quickly forgotten as the phone rang and he grabbed it from the passenger seat.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Avery, it’s Jason Bancroft. How can I help you?”

“I need information about someone.”

“Yes, sir. Is this a security matter for the company?”

“No. The reason isn’t relevant to the investigation. Find out everything you can about Dr. Angeline Hemming. She’s a psychotherapist or something, works with high profile abuse cases, and has a radio gig on Friday nights.”

“Do you want the basic rundown? Background check, credit, criminal record?”

Alex laughed. Even he realized how absurd that sounded. “No. I mean, sure, but I want the real guts. Where she grew up, family background, education, resume, connections, places she goes, names of her friends. I want to know her routine and if she’s seeing anyone.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If she is, find out about him as well,” he said with a wicked grin. Knowing a competitor’s weakness always made them a vulnerable target.

Mr. Bancroft chuckled. “How detailed should I get?”

“Everything. Down to the name of her fucking dentist.”

Jason Bancroft laughed out loud, understanding Alex’s real motivation. “Ah. But, what if she doesn’t have teeth? Have you considered that?” he joked.

Alex flashed a big smile in response as he changed lanes and floored it. “Oh, she does and they’re sharp as hell. I’ve already been bitten.”

Throp!

The manila envelope landed on the mahogany desk with a loud thud. Alex threw his assistant, Mrs. Dane, a dirty look at the abrupt gesture. She’d been his right hand since he’d taken the helm alongside his father and had earned a certain measure of Alex’s respect. It entitled her to get away with things that someone else might not and cemented their professional relationship with a good measure of friendship. She smirked at him and patted the back of her tightly coiffed chignon with her right hand as she turned to leave the room. She was a robust woman with graying dark hair, perfectly groomed, and steadfast. Sturdy was the word Charles used to describe her.

“Wait, Mrs. Dane. What’s in this package?” Alex ran a hand down his navy blue and red silk tie and raised his eyebrow at her.

Mrs. Dane was older than Alex by probably thirty years, and she was impeccable in everything she did. He’d never asked her age because his mother told him it was impolite to inquire that of women. Especially one that was older than you. She stopped and turned toward him, brushing an imaginary fleck of lint off of her purple brocade suit. “I have no idea.”

He smiled. “Well, where did it come from?” He picked it up and looked at the logo on the envelope. Bancroft Investigations. “Never mind, Mrs. Dane. Thank you.” He looked up at her from his seated position behind his desk. “Did Dad say what this urgent meeting is about?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Avery. He only said that you were to meet him in his office at 4:30 today. Have you signed the checks I left for you? If so, I can get them in the mail before I leave.” Most of the checks from Avery Enterprises were signed with an electronic version of his signature, but when they were over half a million dollars, Alex deigned to sign them personally.

“They’re done.” He reached in his drawer and handed them to her. It was Friday afternoon and Alex balked at a meeting this late in the day, even if it was with his father. “You’re free to leave after you get these in the mail, Mrs. Dane. Have a great weekend.”

“Thank you, sir.” A genuine smile spread across her gentle face as she walked toward his office door. “You as well.”

“I will. Thank you.” Alex opened his top drawer and used his letter opener to slit the top of the envelope then pulled out a thick folder. Angeline Hemming was printed on the front, and it was held closed with rubber bands in both directions. There was a note clipped to the front.

Dear Mr. Avery,

Dr. Hemming has a flawless record, near-perfect credit, and impeccable credentials. Nothing stood out as a red flag, but I did include everything for your review. Small town girl from a poor family who excelled academically, she put herself through school with scholarships and a variety of jobs, none of them questionable. She is well respected professionally for her work in domestic abuse cases and active in some of the local charities that are relevant. She owns a condo less than two miles from your apartment downtown.

Alex’s eyes widened. That close? Maybe I’ve seen her somewhere.

The only photos that I was able to find were her high school yearbook. I’ve included the scans inside, but they’re kind of grainy. She’s been seeing a lawyer by the name of Kenneth Gant, but not much evidence of the relationship other than a couple of fundraisers they’ve attended together. He’s clean as a whistle, too, so I hope that is what you were looking for.

Her father still works as a janitor in Joplin, Missouri. I found her mother, as well, but there is nothing to substantiate that she is part of Dr. Hemming’s life at the present. She resides in Houston, Texas and has since remarried.

Regards,

J. Bancroft

Alex had just removed the letter and the rubber bands when the phone on his desk began to ring.

“Alex Avery,” he answered, and then flipped through some of the documents as his father’s voice came through the phone.

“Alex, you’re late. Can you come up now?” Charles Avery asked.

“Yeah, Dad. On my way. Unless we can put this off?” Alex asked hopefully.

His father laughed. “It won’t take long.”

“Dad, listen, I was going to meet Darian for a few drinks. I promised him I’d play racquetball this week and had to blow him off because of the Toronto trip.”

“You can’t give your old dad five minutes?”

“All right.” Alex wasn’t due to meet his friend for almost two hours but was exasperated that he had to delay looking in the folder in front of him. He sighed, closed it, and put it in his right hand desk drawer, then carefully locked his desk. “I’ll be up shortly.”

On the walk to the elevators, he searched his mind for what his father might want to discuss. The Wellington takeover was going well, he’d taken care of the situation in Toronto, and an offer of employment had been made for the replacement of the incompetent CFO in Munich. Not bad for a week’s work, so what in the hell could it be?

Charles’s office was two floors above, and Judy, his young assistant, smiled at Alex as he walked out of the elevator. She flushed and straightened her hair. Alex smiled at the obvious nerves he created in the girl. She was pretty, but a little shy. Light brown hair and slim figure. Not beautiful. Not memorable, but competent. He lifted his hand and pointed toward the door. Judy nodded and Alex walked into his father’s office, closing the door behind him.

Charles was on the phone, presumably with Alex’s mother, if the content of the conversation was anything to go by. Alex settled himself in one of the leather wingback chairs in front of his father’s huge antique desk and waited for the call to end. This office was a great deal more old-fashioned than his. The furniture was collectors’ items, and the walls were well-lined with Charles’s classic book collection. Alex’s own taste was more modern, more open, and a good deal less cluttered.

“Okay, darling. I’ll be home in an hour.” His father was dressed similarly to himself: expensive designer suit, custom-made Egyptian cotton shirt and silk tie, Italian leather shoes. They both looked like they stepped out of a GQ magazine and right into the corporate world. Alex released the button of his suit jacket as he waited. “Alex just came in. Yes, I’ll tell him.” Charles smiled and then replaced the phone into its cradle.

“Your mother said she expects you for dinner on Sunday. Cora loves Max, but she wants to see you, too.”

Alex rolled his eyes in mock aggravation and then joined his father’s laughter. “She sees me all the time. I suppose I can manage dinner, providing she doesn’t invite one of those simpering women from the country club.”

Charles’s eyebrows shot up and his face sobered. “Your mother just wants to see you happy, Alex. She thinks you need someone to take care of you, and you know how much she dislikes Whitney.”

Alex sighed. “Well, Whitney’s history, so that’s no longer a concern.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. We broke up a couple of weeks ago… old news. Why isn’t Mom on Cole’s ass? He’s so busy screwing around, his dick is about to fall off, so why am I the focus of every one of her matchmaking attempts?”

His father sighed and nodded in understanding. “Amazing you should bring up Cole, Alex. He’s what I wanted to talk to you about. He needs guidance. He seems a little out of control lately.”

Here we go again! Alex thought and ran an impatient hand through his full head of hair. “Not just lately. Why now? And, why am I always assigned with babysitting duty? ‘Out of control’ is Cole’s middle name, Dad.” Alex’s impatience with his older brother was clear and Charles’ brows dropped in a frown as he contemplated his next words carefully.

“You don’t give him enough responsibility.”

“That’s because I’m in charge of the bottom line. I don’t enjoy flushing millions down the toilet because you want to give Cole some leash, and I’m the one in the hot seat with the board of directors. He isn’t focused and you know it.”

Charles shook his head. “I know in the past it’s been a problem.”

“No shit, it’s been a problem,” Alex interrupted his father shortly. “I love Cole, but all he wants to do is show off and fuck around. You asked me to take responsibility and I have, so will you just let me do my job?”