Read Online Malcolm and Ives 02 - Trouble With Air and Magic by Patricia Rice - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Rice
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Paranormal, Mystery, Feng Shui, California, psychic, geek, Malcolm, Ives
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instinct meant anything, her brother and the money hadn’t disappeared by mistake. And Magnus had gone down with her brother. That really gripped his gut. If there was any possibility whatsoever that his older brother was still alive, he’d rip apart walls and laws to find him.
This time, he couldn’t ignore his internal alarms, even if they made about as much sense to him as Hungarian written in Cyrillic.
Conan wasn’t a people person like Oz. He didn’t know what made Dorothea Franklin tick. But the posturing hysteric he’d seen last night did not compute with the uptight witch in her power red suit who stalked through her office this morning. She walked as if she had a broomstick up her ass as she cruised the windowed corridor past empty employee cubicles.
In the rain, she’d not only looked human, but sexy cuddly. Weird. What made the difference? The hair wound so tight it looked as if it should pull her head off her shoulders?
At least he’d taken time to pull a brown blazer over his black polo and jeans, faking businesslike as they cruised her office. He’d been kind of ticked that she hadn’t taken him seriously yesterday. Maybe the clothes would make a difference.
He followed in Dorrie’s wake, not sorry there were no employees available to interview personally. He couldn’t spot a crook if one stood in front of him. He needed machines to detect patterns. He read computers the way other people read books.
With a bit of luck, he should have time to clean up FF’s little bookkeeping mess while he was waiting on that defense contract. He didn’t want anyone blaming his security walls for a breach in a charitable foundation’s accounts. That would cream his career for certain. Small businesses like his relied heavily on reputation.
Of course, if the government found out he’d been poking through their computers, he’d be going to jail, but that was another matter entirely. Magnus was worth risking prison time.
His brother could take an engine apart and put it back together faster than any mechanic he knew. Magnus had hot-rodded all their cars when they’d been teens. Which only aggravated Conan’s itchy instincts. Magnus worked on top secret government engines these days. He’d have known if anything was wrong with the helicopter’s mechanics.
With every ounce of his pathetic existence, Conan wanted Dorothea to be right that their brothers were still alive.
Taking a desk that overlooked her corner office, Conan had a good view of Dottie Frost as she settled her furball into a dog bed, threw her coat on a hook, and got down to work. The concern etched in her brow marred the façade of inscrutability while she clicked through her keyboard.
He tuned into her computer system and hunted through personnel files but nothing obvious—like employees with prison records—jumped out at him. Working his way through employee Internet histories, he could see the foundation’s treasurer had a fondness for porn sites but not online gambling. The bookkeeper amused herself on YouTube and shopped on bargain sites. He could have done all this from home, but he didn’t want to leave the dragon lady alone.
He began sifting through client records. As he’d discovered in his preliminary search, the foundation’s money financed individuals who fell through the system, people who were working hard but just not able to get a grip and pull out of the hole.
No wonder Miss Frosty was so uptight. She had the weight of hundreds of families on her shoulders.
Conan glanced up to see Dorothea reading over his shoulder.
At his frown of annoyance, she said, “Your security guy just buzzed up from the garage. Do you want to let him in?”
The shiny straight hair she’d wrenched into a knot was already starting to escape and curl. Conan remembered how soft and curvy she was under that stiff suit, but he wasn’t in the habit of sexually harassing the clientele and needed to stop thinking like that. He shoved his
This time, he couldn’t ignore his internal alarms, even if they made about as much sense to him as Hungarian written in Cyrillic.
Conan wasn’t a people person like Oz. He didn’t know what made Dorothea Franklin tick. But the posturing hysteric he’d seen last night did not compute with the uptight witch in her power red suit who stalked through her office this morning. She walked as if she had a broomstick up her ass as she cruised the windowed corridor past empty employee cubicles.
In the rain, she’d not only looked human, but sexy cuddly. Weird. What made the difference? The hair wound so tight it looked as if it should pull her head off her shoulders?
At least he’d taken time to pull a brown blazer over his black polo and jeans, faking businesslike as they cruised her office. He’d been kind of ticked that she hadn’t taken him seriously yesterday. Maybe the clothes would make a difference.
He followed in Dorrie’s wake, not sorry there were no employees available to interview personally. He couldn’t spot a crook if one stood in front of him. He needed machines to detect patterns. He read computers the way other people read books.
With a bit of luck, he should have time to clean up FF’s little bookkeeping mess while he was waiting on that defense contract. He didn’t want anyone blaming his security walls for a breach in a charitable foundation’s accounts. That would cream his career for certain. Small businesses like his relied heavily on reputation.
Of course, if the government found out he’d been poking through their computers, he’d be going to jail, but that was another matter entirely. Magnus was worth risking prison time.
His brother could take an engine apart and put it back together faster than any mechanic he knew. Magnus had hot-rodded all their cars when they’d been teens. Which only aggravated Conan’s itchy instincts. Magnus worked on top secret government engines these days. He’d have known if anything was wrong with the helicopter’s mechanics.
With every ounce of his pathetic existence, Conan wanted Dorothea to be right that their brothers were still alive.
Taking a desk that overlooked her corner office, Conan had a good view of Dottie Frost as she settled her furball into a dog bed, threw her coat on a hook, and got down to work. The concern etched in her brow marred the façade of inscrutability while she clicked through her keyboard.
He tuned into her computer system and hunted through personnel files but nothing obvious—like employees with prison records—jumped out at him. Working his way through employee Internet histories, he could see the foundation’s treasurer had a fondness for porn sites but not online gambling. The bookkeeper amused herself on YouTube and shopped on bargain sites. He could have done all this from home, but he didn’t want to leave the dragon lady alone.
He began sifting through client records. As he’d discovered in his preliminary search, the foundation’s money financed individuals who fell through the system, people who were working hard but just not able to get a grip and pull out of the hole.
No wonder Miss Frosty was so uptight. She had the weight of hundreds of families on her shoulders.
Conan glanced up to see Dorothea reading over his shoulder.
At his frown of annoyance, she said, “Your security guy just buzzed up from the garage. Do you want to let him in?”
The shiny straight hair she’d wrenched into a knot was already starting to escape and curl. Conan remembered how soft and curvy she was under that stiff suit, but he wasn’t in the habit of sexually harassing the clientele and needed to stop thinking like that. He shoved his
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