Jill Pembrook gave a slight smile as she nodded, half amusement and half encouragement. It was a look Melinda had come to expect in the year she’d worked for Pembrook. Davis just crossed his arms over his chest, looking pissed off in what Melinda thought of as his civvies—well-worn jeans and a dark T-shirt that emphasized the strength in his arms and chest. But she knew Davis’s anger wasn’t directed at her. It was for the high-priced lawyer who’d shown up in the middle of his interview with Leila Petrov and pulled her out of there.
“I think she’s telling the truth. She doesn’t know anything about it.”
At Melinda’s proclamation, Davis seemed to deflate. “I agree,” he said. “And let’s be honest, Petrov Armor isn’t small, but it’s not exactly a huge company. Unless it was pure sloppiness—which I doubt, given their history supplying the military—there’s something unusual going on here.”
“Cutting corners,” Melinda suggested. “Maybe these checks she thinks are in place aren’t being followed. Or she’s too distracted grieving her father to notice they messed up a big shipment. Or we could be talking about sabotage.”
Davis looked intrigued. “Cutting corners could suggest her father knew about it and was just trying to make more money from substandard, cheaper materials, and maybe less vigorous testing, too. Sloppiness would suggest one or more of her employees are taking advantage of her grief to be lazy. Or maybe they’re all grieving and distracted, too. But sabotage? Are you thinking someone inside the company or out?”
“Given what I’ve read about their process, sabotage from someone who doesn’t work there seems unlikely. So, I’d say inside. If that’s the case, it could be someone with a grudge against the military.”
“That’s unlikely too, considering what Leila said about the people in charge of anything important being there for years,” Davis cut in. “If this had been happening a long time, what are the chances the military wouldn’t have already found out?”
“I agree,” Melinda said. “So, if it’s sabotage, it’s probably someone who wanted to discredit Neal Petrov himself. But honestly, I think the most likely motive is the most obvious.”
“Greed.” Davis nodded. “They produced inferior products to save money, get a bigger profit. Well, it sure backfired. But if that’s the case, we’re back to Neal Petrov. As CEO and biggest shareholder, he’d be in the most likely position to profit. With him dead...”
“JC has been on the phone with the army while you were interviewing Ms. Petrov,” Pembrook said. “He’s confirmed that the shipment of armor the soldiers who were killed were wearing went out after Neal Petrov was killed. It’s possible he set it up before he died, but I think there could be an accomplice.”
“It makes sense,” Melinda agreed. “If there are really as many checks and balances as Leila Petrov claimed, it might be hard for one person to pull this off, even if he was the CEO. Two, on the other hand...”
Davis nodded, anticipation back on his face that told Melinda how badly he wanted to put someone behind bars for his friend’s death. The case was probably too personal for him. It could lead to mistakes. But it could also be exactly the dogged determination they needed.
“Melinda and I have been talking about sending someone inside,” Pembrook said, staring at Davis.
“Undercover?” He sounded frustrated as he said, “Well, Leila Petrov knows me, JC and Smitty, so we’re all out. Who were you thinking about sending in?”
“I think you should do it,” Melinda said, before Pembrook could respond. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about who might go undercover before Davis had come into the room.
Before the interview, Davis would have been the last person she’d have suggested. But the more she’d watched him and Leila, seen the sparks practically flying between them from both anger and attraction, the more the idea had grown.
Davis stared at her like she’d gotten into the head of one too many criminals and finally cracked. “What would I do undercover that—”
“This.” Melinda cut him off, holding up her cell phone. She’d found an advertisement for a job as an office assistant to Leila Petrov. “We lucked out.”
“How?” Davis demanded, glancing from her to Pembrook as if their boss would set her straight—or suggest Melinda get her own head checked. “Leila Petrov is never going to go along with this.”
“I think she will,” Melinda contradicted as Pembrook just watched them, her mind probably running through a million scenarios at the speed of a computer.
“And why’s that?” Davis demanded, even though he had to be dying to be the one to go in.
“Attraction,” Melinda said simply.
As she spoke, Kane Bradshaw walked past the open doorway. He didn’t pause, just lifted an eyebrow at her, looking amused.
Forcing herself to ignore him, Melinda told Davis, “There was an immediate physical attraction between you two.”
When Davis frowned, she added quickly, “It’s my job to catch these things. I’m not saying you were unprofessional. But you can play on that attraction to gain her trust.”
“She’s in charge of the company,” Davis argued. “There’s no way she’s going to go along with this.”
“I think she will.”
“Because she thinks I’m cute? Come on. This isn’t high school, Melinda.”
She couldn’t help a wry smile in return. The six-foot tall, broad-shouldered African-American agent was cute. That would probably influence Leila Petrov, whether she wanted it to or not. But it wouldn’t get Davis into the company; it would merely stop the door from being slammed in his face before he could make his case to her. “No, but we both agree she’s probably innocent. I think she wants to find the truth. You can help her get it.”
That quieted him down, but only for a minute, before he frowned and shook his head again. “Believe me, I want to be the one to find
