Chapter 1

he's in there," he said leaning in through the window of Deanna's silver Volkswagen bug.

"How long have they been in there?" she asked, getting out of the car.

"Fifteen, twenty minutes tops," he answered, slightly hunching his shoulders.

She nodded as she reached in the car and grabbed her camera from the dashboard.

"Let's go." She stepped on the curb and began to walk down the narrow sidewalk. Walking next to her, keeping in step, he glanced in her direction looking for any sign of nervousness. They walked briskly to the back of the motel.

The fresh, crisp October air mixed with the pungent stench of the week's worth of rotten food and garbage that filled a nearby dumpster.

"Which room?" she asked, her nose instinctively crinkling.

"The one on the end," he said, pointing. "Second floor."

She looked around, checking to see if anyone was watching, then pulled him behind her as she stepped between the hedges. "Give me a boost," she said, looping the camera strap around her neck. He watched her anxiously, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What?"

"Boost me up onto the balcony," she answered, jerking her thumb upward as she met his gaze. "How do you think I'm going to get the shots?"

Knowing not to argue with her, he held his hands out. She put her booted foot in his palm, and he hoisted her up to the balcony.

After grabbing the rail and pulling herself up, she swung one leg and then the other over and quickly ducked down. She moved closer to the sliding glass door and peered in; she saw a small desk with a chair next to a dresser with a television set on top of it. She moved over a little more so she could see the entire room, which included a full-size bed with a pea-green blanket. Her subject was sitting on the bed topless, humming carelessly to herself.

"C'mon, baby, I can't wait forever," the woman called out.

A minute later, the bathroom door opened. A man wearing light blue boxers walked out. His eyes filled with lust as he watched her full, bare breasts move with each breath. He smiled in anticipation of the excitement that was to come.

Click. Click. She took two shots.

"What was that?" he asked, looking at the window. "Did you hear something?"

"Oh shit," Deanna whispered. Standing quickly, she smiled to herself as her adrenalin began to pump. The man took four steps to the patio door and threw it open as she threw her leg over the rail. He reached for her, his fingers barely missing her jacket as she jumped. She hit the ground with a thud and started running.

"Come back here, you bitch!" he yelled, leaning over the balcony.

Deanna Meyers, private investigator and owner of Meyers Investigators, looked at her employee.

"Great job, Chris," she said breathlessly as they ran around the corner, racing back to their cars. "I'll see you at the office."

He stepped into the elevator at his penthouse and headed down to the lobby. He had only an hour and a half before his appointment—just enough time to go to the office and get the information he needed. He stepped from the elevator to the lobby just as she reached for the up button. She smiled, her eyes brightening at the sight of him.

"Hi, lover, I was just about to come up."

The sight of her made him angry; he blinked several times, surprised at his own reaction. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he stepped into the lobby.

"I wanted to surprise you. I thought we could have breakfast together."

He looked at the doorman and smiled. Then he took her arm and led her out the door and into the waiting limo.

"Morning, sir. Morning, Ms. Summers," the driver said.

"Good morning, Mike," he said then looked at his companion, taking note of her rudeness.

"Are we stopping for breakfast?" she asked, flashing him a smile.

"No, we're taking you home," he said, making eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror and nodding slightly. The limo pulled away from the curb and weaved into the early-morning traffic. He looked out the window and watched pedestrians walking briskly to work and school, trying to beat the fall wind.

His mind reeled back to thoughts of the night before. They had had dinner and gone out for drinks with friends. He had seen an old girlfriend from school, and Janet had accused him of arranging to meet with the other woman. They had a terrible fight afterwards, which seemed to be happening more and more over the past few months. He was still tense, and the sound of her voice was slowly increasing his agitation.

"I'm hungry, and I came all this way to see you. The least you could do is take me to breakfast," she whined, folding her arms and pouting like a small child.

He lowered his voice to a whisper, choosing his words carefully. "Janet, we don't want to do this here."

She glared at the back of the driver's head and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, he's only the driver. They get paid to drive, not listen," she said, reaching for his hand and tracing small circles in his palm. "I had a marvelous time last night. Didn't you?" she asked, glancing out the window.

He snatched his hand from her grasp, his voice still low. "No, I didn't."

"Tsk. Oh, don't be silly," she said, turning back to him. "I think the evening went—"

He raised his hand to stop her from speaking. "I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"You always take things far too seriously," she said with a laugh, thinking he was joking. Looking into his emerald eyes, she realized he wasn't. "You're serious? Why?"

He turned away from her. "I don't think we're good for each other."

"I don't understand why you would think that. Aren't you happy?"

"We argue all the time and drive each other insane. I can't take it anymore," he said, looking out the window. "I just think we need time apart." They rode in silence. "Mike, stop at Ritz Coffee House up ahead, then we'll be dropping Ms. Summers off at home."

She looked over at his handsome profile, seeing his set jaw. Taking a deep breath, she turned away.

Dee parked in front of the Quick Mart Dry Cleaning. She dropped off her laundry and then walked across the street to get coffee. A shiny black limo stopped in front of the door; she slowed her pace and watched as a handsome Caucasian male wearing a tailored black suit and black turtleneck stepped out. A beautiful, slim blonde accompanied him.

He walked gracefully to the door, reaching it before Dee, and held it open for her and his companion.

Dee walked to the counter and placed her order. "Hi, Grace. May I have a Swiss chocolate and a Cinnamon Viennese?"

"Cream only?" the woman asked.

Dee nodded. She heard the man from the limo speak; his voice was powerful, but smooth and soothing. She looked back, noticing how his suit wrapped around his broad shoulders and impressive biceps. She smiled, glancing at the blonde. Her face was oval, with a delicate nose and thin lips, and her makeup was perfect. Dee turned away.

"Come on, Janet," Dee heard him say. "I don't have time for this. I told you I have an appointment."

"Why are you rushing me?" Janet said, her voice shrill. "I don't like being rushed." She stepped up to the counter.

The young lady behind the counter smiled. "Good morning, ma'am. How may I help you?"

"I'll have the Swiss chocolate," Janet said impatiently.

"I'm sorry, we just sold the last cup."

Janet looked shocked; she lifted her hazel eyes to meet the cashier's. "Well, we'll just have to wait until you make some more, now, won't we?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we don't have anymore to make," the cashier informed her.

"What does that mean? It's still morning and you've run out of coffee?"

"We have chocolate hazelnut or chocolate mint. They're both very good. I can—"

"What sort of business are you running here?" Janet asked indignantly.

"Just get something else," he said, groaning with annoyance.

"No, I want Swiss chocolate."

He shook his head, stepping around her and up to the counter. "Could you just give us three chocolate hazelnuts, please?"

"I want to see your manager," Janet said, pointing a thin finger at the girl.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry," the young woman said in a small voice, glancing nervously at Janet.

"I'm the manager," a second woman behind the counter said, standing tall before stepping forward. "Miss, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but sometimes this happens. We can give you something else on the house."

The man in the suit looked at the manager, his eyes communicating his empathy, and he sighed heavily. He pulled out his billfold and put a twenty on the counter, smiling apologetically. "Keep the change."

Dee had watched the entire exchange while adding sugar to her coffees. The man walked over and reached around Dee to get napkins.

"Maybe your girlfriend needs to switch to decaf," Dee said.

He laughed. As he glanced at the African American woman standing next to him, and into the most beautiful brown eyes he'd ever seen, his pulse quickened. "If you would be kind enough to stab me to death with that stirrer and put me out of my misery," he gestured toward the slim straw in her hand, "I'd be so grateful."

Dee looked up into his green eyes, framed by dark, thick lashes. "I make it a habit never to kill gorgeous men." She smiled, flashing her deep dimples. Then she took the cups from the counter, turned, and walked briskly out the door.

He followed her to the door, watching her walk across the street and into the dry cleaners.

"And just what the hell was that all about?" Hearing his companion's voice, he grimaced; he looked over his shoulder and his eyes met hers. He walked to the counter and picked up two of the cups, and then he nodded to the coffee-shop employees.

"Ladies, have a good day." Then, turning to the Janet, he said, "Janet, I'm leaving in five minutes."

Returning to the limo, he handed one cup to the driver. "Here you go, Mike."

"Thank you, sir."

He looked across the street at the dry cleaners, trying to get another look at the woman with the beautiful eyes. Then he looked back at the coffee bar.

"If she's not here in five minutes," he instructed the driver, "we're leaving without her."

Meyers' private investigator's office was inside a brownstone in upper Chicago. As the black limo stopped in front, the driver turned to his employer. "This is it, sir."

He looked up from his laptop. "Thanks, Mike." Benjamin Harrison, the thirty-two year old CEO of Harrison Enterprises, stepped out of his limo. Everything about the six foot, two-hundred-pound muscular man said successful, confident, and sexy. Entering the office, Ben noticed the distinct aroma of apples and cinnamon. The woman sitting at the front desk looked up from her work and gasped.

"Good morning."

Ben replied in his melodious, rich baritone, "Benjamin Harrison, to see Mr. D. M. Meyers."

"Yes, sir," the young woman stuttered as she picked up the phone. "Dee, Mr. Harrison to see you."

Deanna walked out of her office to meet their prospective client. He turned toward the sound of her approach. Dee slowed her pace, surprised to see the raven-haired man from the coffee shop. She got a good look at him and thought, Wow. Ben Harrison was handsome; his hair was naturally wavy and perfectly combed, his face was square, his features chiseled. He looked like he had just stepped off the cover of a men's magazine. And he had the most amazing green eyes. "Mr. Harrison, I'm Deanna Meyers." Her heart raced. She smiled as she reached out to shake his hand.

"Mrs. Meyers," Ben said, as his hand met hers.

"Miz," Dee corrected. She looked at her assistant. "Kimmy, could you ask Christopher to meet me in my office, please?" Dee turned to Ben and smiled, gesturing toward her office.

Ben never would have guessed that the young woman from the coffee shop was D. M. Meyers; he had been expecting a male and someone much older—she was so young. He was even more surprised at the way he felt when he watched her walk across the room to meet him. She was stunning. He guessed her to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, five feet five and 120 pounds. Her body was slender, her hips slim. She wore a fitted gray pantsuit and a black mock turtleneck, as well as a gold cross and small diamond earrings. She wore her hair swept up, with delicate curls hanging around her neck.

"Did your girlfriend make out okay?" she asked, walking down the hall.

"She's not my girlfriend," he quickly answered, as they walked into the small office.

"Please, have a seat." She motioned to the chair across from her desk. Ben looked around the small office. A shelf full of books lined one wall, and a mid-sized desk sat in front of the window. There was an executive chair behind it and two comfortable armchairs in front. On the other side were shelves with cameras and other electronic devices on them. After sitting down, Dee asked, "How can we help you?"

He watched her thick dark lashes as she looked down, reaching for a pen and pad to take notes. She met his gaze and then smiled as they sat and silently watched each other for a moment.

"Mr. Harrison?"

"Oh yes, I'm sorry. I need someone located." Ben watched her closely, impressed by her confidence.

"Harrison Enterprises is a multi-million dollar company. Surely you have investigators on staff."

"Yes, but this is personal, and you—or I should say, your firm—came highly recommended."

Dee's father had been a Chicago police officer for fifteen years before deciding to start his own private investigation business when Dee was eight. After a few years, his brother came to work for him; they were known as the best PIs in the state.

"Who are you trying to find?"

"My father had an affair with someone twenty years ago, and I need to find her."

"May I ask why?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does. I need to know that no harm, physical or mental, will come to this person once we find her."

"There was a child as a result of the affair, and I want to find my half-brother or sister." "And there's nothing else, no other reason?"

"No," Ben said, "it's pretty cut and dry."

Dee watched him as she tapped her index finger against her lip. Then there was a small rap at her door and Christopher walked in. "Benjamin Harrison, Christopher Loa. Chris is our best investigator." Ben rose slightly, shook Chris' hand, and then looked at Dee.

"I thought you were the best," Ben said, seeing a gleam in her eyes and a faint smile. Modest but sure of herself, he thought. I like that.

"Mr. Harrison, if you could give us whatever information you have, I'm sure we can help you." Dee said.

Dee reviewed the information that she received from Benjamin Harrison: Nancy Greer, D.O.B. 4/6/56. Moved from Park Ridge to Chicago twenty years ago. Last known employer, Harrison Enterprises. No family in Chicago. Dee dropped the folder on her desk. She spun in her seat and gazed down at the passing pedestrians on the street below. Why would he want to find his sibling after so many years? She was sure there was more to the story; otherwise, he would have let the investigators at Harrison Enterprises handle the case. She turned back to the desk and saw Chris walk past her office. "Hey," she called. He stuck his head around the corner.

"Yeah boss?"

"I need you to do something for me."

"What's that?"

"I need you to find out everything you can about the Harrison Family of Harrison Enterprises."

Chris nodded. "Sure thing." He stepped inside the office. "Do you want me to start working on this?" he asked, pointing at the notes spread in front of her.

"No, I'll take care of it." She watched him leave the office then picked up the sheet of paper, scanned it, and whispered to herself. "Mr. Harrison, why do you really want to find Nancy Greer?"

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