Page 29 of Daddies’ Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies #19)

HARPER

I t’s been two weeks, and all four of us have been digging and trying to put the pieces together. Even though I feel like I’m beating my head against a concrete wall, at least I don’t have to hide my research from them any longer.

They’ve let me in. We go over what we’ve tried and where we’ve looked over dinner, but once dinner is over…they take turns distracting me.

Some nights, I slip into one bed after another, but most nights one of them tucks me in beside them with the obvious desire not to share.

No matter what, they’re taking care of me.

It’s probably the only reason I haven’t thrown a full blown fit over my lack of progress. I made such headway, and it’s all stalled. I don’t feel any closer to figuring out who killed my dad than two weeks ago.

After I get my usual work done—something I’ve gotten pretty proficient at if I’m allowed to boast, and I am—I pull up a few pieces of evidence on the computer.

It’s late in the afternoon, and I’m staring at a set of pictures that are utterly meaningless to me when Sunny pops up beside me to whisper something, but I don’t catch her words.

If I know Sunny, it’s naughty and involves one of the many men in the office she’s been innocently flirting with. Much to Kyle’s dismay. That guy needs to grab a hold of his backbone and ask her out already. She’ll definitely say yes.

Just as my brain is shifting gears, her hand shoots out to point at my screen. “Hey, I know that place.”

“Really?” I perk up, the closest thing to a breakthrough we’ve had in too long.

Sunny leans in, squinting harder. “Yeah, that’s the back entrance to the Lyon Foundry. I used to hang out there with my brother’s band—it was their practice spot before it got boarded up.”

She’s identified something I never would have recognized.

My fingers are already typing in a new search, locating the Lyon Foundry and examining the streets and buildings around it.

Wheels turn in my head, and I snap my laptop shut, whirling on Sunny. I stand and gather her in a strong hug, relieved when she squeezes me back just as hard.

“You are brilliant,” I whisper to her.

“Does this have to do with the whole super sleuth thing you’ve been working since we started here? With that sleazeball upstairs?” Her questions are soft in my ear.

“Yes.” I release her. “Grab your things. Come with me.”

I usher her into an open conference room and set up the laptop I’ve been working on that’s only attached to the firm’s network and nothing else.

Before we go through the other pictures and pieces of evidence, I pull the map back up—finally having something concrete, something that’s real to jump off of—I search for any personal relevance, but I don’t recognize any of it. Until something snaps into place in the back of my mind.

Where did I see this street referenced? Was it the foundry Dad was looking at originally? Or simply something nearby?

Parts of the evidence I’ve been combing through repeatedly fill my screen, and I tug Sunny’s chair closer so we can look through it together. Finally, I feel like I’m not drowning in failure. Like I’m living up to what my dad knew I am capable of.

What I imagined were just warehouses transform into real buildings from businesses both current and defunct.

Once we have everything identified, I drag her back through the emails, drop points, delivery receipts, and his notes until we find the connections Dad must have made as he compiled all this information.

My heart is racing, my foot jiggling out of control. Adrenaline has its hold on me, and I’m ready to soar right into wherever this leads.

Sunny’s fingers are tapping on the table, and her lip is hooked in her teeth until I push the laptop toward her. After a brief look in my eyes, she must see my intention because her fingers fly over the keyboard a second later.

It would be stupid of me to insist I do this part all on my own. Sunny is way better at computer stuff, tracking and uncovering data points than I am. Instead, I roll through what I already know.

Dad was tracking someone in the industrial district south of here. Actually, rather close to where the guys renovated the building they live in. The one I live in now. Is that why Dad said not to trust them?

That final note of his is the one piece that sends me spiraling away from productive thoughts.

Sunny brings me back to myself. “Hey, Harp. I found something.”

I scoot my chair tight against hers as she gestures to the screen. “See, the building in this picture isn’t focused on the Foundry but one of the warehouses nearby. Ownership of it has changed hands a few times before the original investigation into this area, and only once since then.”

She pulls up a small street map and taps lightly on the building behind the Foundry. “It’s owned by a shell corporation, which will take a little more digging into, but that’s not the thing that has me excited.”

I’m chewing on my lip, ready to dive into whatever she’s found. Her excitement is contagious. “What?”

“The notes made about the building and the going-on’s…it has to be a hub of illegal activity. That’s what you’ve been looking for, right? Some reason to investigate this spot in particular?” Her bright blue eyes shine at me. Pride. Thrill. Worry.

I grab her hand and hold onto it, smiling sadly. “Yes. I have a few more things to tell you about this whole thing, but first we need to go over a few things.”

She gives me a scandalous look that grows more and more serious as I tell her the story of my dad’s death and why I’m digging into all of this.

Sunny lets out a breath when I’m finished. “I knew it was something more than you were telling me, but god…your dad?”

I nod and am barely able to keep the tears from falling. But I do. “We need to find out what they were doing and who they are, so we can finish what my dad started. It’s serious. And it’s dangerous. Are you up for that?”

“I am so up for that. Show me what you’ve got.”

I show her everything I’ve got, and she digs. Sunny is so fast, zooming through files and typing code that I cannot follow. She’s as efficient as the program I bought to get those encrypted files.

Sunny’s better though. She can change course immediately. Can think on her feet.

The images fly across the screen, pulling up and honing in on spots before arranging themselves.

“Look. They’re all at the same times of day.

The same silhouettes, even if these photos don’t give us the fine details, we can tell they’re the same three or four guys.

And those semi-trucks are way heavier going in than going out. Except for this one.”

A video time-stamped on a Sunday evening last year. Just past 1 a.m.

“On its own, that doesn’t seem so hinky. But it’s in the same pattern. Outside of normal business hours, and I found this…” She double clicks a rendering that enhances the windows in one of the images.

Dots are blown up into faces, fuzzy but young and female.

“And this guy…” Another picture is enhanced beside a portrait. A familiar-looking portrait. “I found him in one of the files I went through last week. He’s a businessman on the border. He’s been implicated in a number of crimes. Trafficking immigrants over the border, specifically.”

“Which means he’s been doing a whole lot more than that if that’s all he’s been implicated in.”

That knowing look in her eyes makes my friend suddenly seem older, more experienced than she normally shows.

Sunny nods again. “Yeah. If I were to put together a hypothesis based on what we’ve seen so far and the average outcomes from this kind of phenomenon, I’d say there’s exploitation—for more money or organ donation.

Capturing and selling off young women and girls when they get the chance… ”

I run my hands through my hair and lean back in my chair.

This all connects back to the cartel listed in conjunction with my dad’s name. On those files I found. Under the redactions Sunny originally helped me find.

Now, I just need to figure out how this all ties back to my dad’s suspicions inside the firm. Jonathan Chase having those files is, as Sunny said, hinky, but does that make him the culprit? Other straggling pieces of evidence that don’t quite fit yet hint at an investor, but it could be anyone.

Anyone but Oliver, Trent, or Grant.

If Dad thought it could be them…it seriously limits the pool of suspects.

Jonathan is still on that list. But he doesn’t seem like the genius type. Someone who could get away with this, not only for as long as it appears but under my dad’s scrutiny.

That’s some Oliver-level intent and intelligence.

I beat my head against the knowledge I have of my dad’s friends. The others he was closest with other than the ones currently protecting me.

“We need to go snooping.”

“Yes. I had so much fun testing my acting chops. I already have notes for improvement.” There’s that bright excitement shining in her eyes again.

That makes me grin at her. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

She perks up and croons. “Me, too.”

Really, I know I should tell the guys about the connections we’ve just made, but I think Sunny is the perfect person to get the information, and they’ll never let her do it.

But Sunny is small, smart, and no one pays enough attention to her in this building—which makes her perfect. Besides, she’s not afraid to flash her innocent, beaming smile if it gets her past the guards and tech bros too bored to notice what’s missing right in front of them.

Others underestimate her. And maybe I did, too, at first, but I see her now.

“Let’s meet here at the office early. We’ll need to get in before anyone else is here.” I can get my way in. I have plenty of access to those kinds of credentials.

My worst hurdle is getting out of the house without anyone knowing.

“We come in early, just before anyone else. I’ll cause a distraction and keep anyone from noticing how long you’re in the investor wing. You just need to get into that one office and plug in a keylogger.”

“Do you know how to make a keylogger?” Her raised brow says she’s onto me.

“I’m sure I can figure it out, but if you know how…”

She rolls her eyes. “Not hard. I can whip one up in minutes. It’ll probably take you all night, and we know you won’t have all night to do it. Not with the way you’re supervised every moment of the day.”

“Yeah. That’s what we’ll call it. Supervised.”

Her giggle is loud enough that a few heads turn out in the main office. Miles narrows his eyes at us.

Busted.

“God, I love crime-adjacent friendship. Let’s do this.”

We slip out of the conference room and back to our cubicles under our boss’s watchful gaze. I wink at him, and he frowns, but it’s not long before Trent is at my back. “Time to go.”

I flutter my lashes at Sunny, and she sends me a salute. It gives me the energy to tease Trent the entire way home.

The next morning, Sunny is waiting for me at the entrance at 6:30 sharp.

The men only agreed to have me come in early—accompanied by them, of course—because I said I had to meet with Sunny for something personal. You know, a feminine thing.

No one really wanted to stick around for this conversation.

But since I’m meeting her at work. Early. It’s the only reason they’ve left me unaccompanied. Well, that and they believe their building is secure enough to leave us alone in it.

Still, we need to move fast.

I use Oliver’s keycard. He’s going to be able to track me, but I need his access before he shuts off its usefulness.

“Ready?”

Sunny’s eyes light up. “Yes. Let’s go.”

I swipe us in and march with all the confidence toward the elevator. We go up to the top floor, again with the access Oliver’s keycard allows us.

There are more people here than I imagined at this time of the morning. It’s just before the changeover, but the night crew is more robust than I thought.

We luck out, finding easy access to a smoke alarm in a posh little breakroom they have all to themselves. The selfish bastards.

I climb up on one of the tables and pull the tiny red lighter from my pocket, flicking it on and holding the flame under the sensor. I’m not burning anything, so there’s no real smoke, but it’s the kind where the heat trips the alarm.

It shrieks after a mere three seconds.

Technically, not arson. Just a sensitive detector. You know, as long as no one checks the security feed…

I’m sure Oliver will, and I’m ready to take my punishment for it if it means we make more headway on my dad’s case.

I hop down and grin at Sunny. “Showtime.”

She’s in motion the moment the words are out of my mouth, coffee cup in hand, her cardigan slipping off one shoulder like the klutzy intern persona she plays way too well.

“Five minutes, tops,” I remind her, watching as the overnight workers shuffle into the hallway and security grumbles and waves their arms.

Sunny and I hide behind the breakroom door as they pass, and as soon as it’s clear we’re moving.

I plant myself at the corner nearest the investor’s wing—eyes open, ears sharper than ever—watching the clock tick toward something we can’t undo as Sunny slips down the hall to that office we narrowed our search down to.

And by god, I hope we’ve gotten the right one. Otherwise, this is all for nothing.

The longer I wait, the more my stomach twists on itself.

People are filing back in.

Sunny should have come back by now.

I try Oliver’s card again to gain access to the hall she went down. It beeps red.

No. No, no, no .

I can’t get in to her.

Fuck it. Time to swallow my pride.

I run for the stairs, going down to my usual floor to get help from the guys.