Since his return to the States almost a year ago, Will had set up and managed security for all the Anderson family holdings, including this building and their lucrative antiquities brokerage business that occupied the top two floors—a perfect use of his military recon training. The deal he had struck with his brothers on his return was that he would set up the security, train the personnel, and run it remotely from his home on Long Island, only returning to New York City on an as-needed basis. He hated it here. He felt smothered in the city and overwhelmed with dread—just as he had in Afghanistan—like something terrible could be lurking in every alley or around the next corner.
A spy could certainly warrant an in-house visit, but he needed more to go on than a hunch. This could have been done with a phone call. “Suspicions are a waste of my time. That’s what I trained your security team for.”
“Will! Great to see you, man,” a voice called from the doorway.
“Chance! How’s it going?” Will asked, rising and extending his hand. With the exception of a squarer jaw, his little brother looked exactly the same as he had in high school and college. All hard lines and long hair—freedom and rebellion stuffed into a business suit.
Chance shook his hand. “Glad you’re back.”
Will was glad, too. He’d thought the island would bring him some peace, but like shrapnel under the skin, regret made his every move ache.
“Things have gotten kind of weird around here,” his little brother added, pulling him back to the moment.
“So I’ve been told.” Will moved closer to the window and caught a look on his big brother’s face he’d seen hundreds of times before. Incapacitating worry and guilt. Michael had always taken every failure on himself as if he were personally responsible. His father had brought him up to run this company from an early age, and the burden had robbed him of the carefree fun his brothers had experienced as teens. In lots of ways, Will felt sorry for him.
“We could lose millions because of the spy,” Michael continued. “We have to stop the loss immediately. I can’t believe I let this happen.”
“This is not your fault,” Will said. “The company is trading in rare and priceless antiquities, jewelry, and art. It was bound to happen at some point.”
“I should have seen it coming. Prevented it somehow.” Michael leaned back in his huge leather office chair and closed his eyes. “We’ve lost several important deals. If this continues, it will shut us down. And the timing is terrible. I leave for the airport for Greece in three hours.”
That explained the fire under Mikey’s ass. Will relaxed a little. “How long will you be gone?”
“Nine days. A private archaeological team found some unusual pottery. I’m hoping to acquire some of it on behalf of a museum in California. Hopefully, I’ll beat the phantom dealer to it this time.”
Well, that explained the suitcase in the corner. “Why don’t you fill me in on what you know, since you’re on a tight schedule.”
“The broker is an outsider, but he has an operative inside our company. Every deal we’ve lost has been an existing client who contacted us first, then decided to sell to a higher bidder or bypass a scheduled auction, selling instead to an anonymous buyer.”
“That happens all the time.”
“No. They are all well-established Anderson Auctions clients. When I do a follow-up visit, they all have the same story. A woman in her twenties, calling herself Florence Smith, visited them with a proposal from a private collector, represented as a male. She’s been described as blond, brunette, and redheaded. They jump to the conclusion that the woman is working in conjunction with us somehow, though the buyer is presented as outside Anderson Auctions. That’s pretty much all I know.”
“That’s not much. We have quite a few employees. A female narrows it, but not enough. It could be a male employee’s cohort. What else do you know?”
“Not much.”
“I have the file in my office,” Chance said, striding to the door. “I have an appraisal to review and certify by noon and two new contracts to fire out, but I’ll have my secretary bring it up to you, Will. Want to meet up for lunch?”
“Sure.”
“Great. We can discuss the file and catch up on what you’ve been up to.”
Feeling sorry for himself, that’s what he’d been up to. And twisted as it was, he was charged up a bit by the security breach at his family’s business. He enjoyed running the security for Anderson Enterprises’ holdings, but sometimes it seemed too routine. Tracking down the company spy was the most exciting thing to come his way in a while—well, that and the blonde in the pink thong with the ripped skirt. Now, there was an interrogation he wouldn’t mind…maybe it could include a thorough body search. His own body came to life at the image. Shit, where did that come from? He hadn’t had thoughts like that in ages.
Michael cleared his throat. “You okay? You have an odd look on your face.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. So, you want me to find out who she is and fire her.”
His brother shook his head. “I really want the bigger fish. I need you to get hard evidence she’s the spy and figure out who she’s working with.”
Now it was really getting interesting. He loved this kind of shit. Too bad it was Michael’s pet auction business, and not one of the other Anderson endeavors being affected—all the more reason to find the spy quickly. He ran a hand over his short hair. “I’ll need the company personnel files.”
“You’ll have to talk to Beverly.”