Page 8 of Sasha’s Secret

Her lips curved in response, but she didn’t quite allow the smile to reach her eyes. “That, I can do. Come this way.”

Chapter 3

In person, Sasha Morgan was everything Rocco had pictured and more—poised, elegant, and a model of efficiency when it came to her job.

However, the impact she’d had on him as an image on a sheet of paper was nothing compared to that of finally seeing her in the flesh. Everything he’d experienced then was intensified in her presence, and so far, he’d seen nothing that would diminish his reaction to her.

For now, though, he had to keep his mind on the job, so he turned his attention to his surroundings. Noting the placement of the closed circuit cameras reminded him of something she’d said while discussing the staffing of the control room—specifically, her use of the word infiltrating. In his experience, it wasn’t a word that ranked highly in the everyday vocabulary of civilians, yet Sasha hadn’t even hesitated.

“So, does Linzi own the estate, or is it rented?”

Sasha shot him a look that almost made him wish he hadn’t asked. “You’d have to take that up with her slew of financial advisers, but I believe the property is owned by some sort of trust. Why? Is it important?”

“Yes. No. Maybe.”

On its own, probably not, but Rocco was trained to look beyond the surface of any situation. Connections were just as important—in some cases, even more so—and the most esoteric factors could often be connected to a perpetrator’s motives. Or the most straightforward, like good old-fashioned envy and greed.

“Thanks for the clarification. That makes perfect sense.”

For a split second, he thought she was being sarcastic, but then he caught the grin. Equizi, you’re going to have to lighten up. “Okay then—maybe, if the motivation for the threats is greed, it could be a significant element. People see a place like this, make certain assumptions, and decide they want a piece of it, or what it represents. And sometimes, they’ll do anything to get it.”

“I know.”

Sasha stopped walking—so did Rocco, a couple of steps ahead of her. He turned to face her and waited.

“I know it’s not a laughing matter, either,” she continued. “I shouldn’t have been so flippant.”

Rocco shook his head. “You think that was flippant? Some of the guys I’ve worked with? Their version of ‘flippant’ would make your blood run cold.”

Her gaze seemed to see all the way through him, to the darkest shadows of some of the more horrifying sights he’d witnessed during his service. “I don’t doubt it. We’d better get moving. Linzi will be finishing in the studio soon—as well as meeting her, I’ll introduce you to her producer.”

Someone else he needed to look into, although his gut was telling him he was unlikely to be a suspect. “Does he spend much time here?”

“No. He comes in for sessions like this and leaves at the end. He’s not much interested in anything going on outside the studio.”

A couple of minutes later, a bend in the path revealed their destination. The gleaming, white, single-story annex, set against a backdrop of tall trees, was separate from the main house, and accessed by a path that took them past one of the swimming pools.

Rocco also caught a glimpse of a bright-red SUV parked beyond the building, partially obscured by the trees. That meant only one thing—the path from the house wasn’t the only way to access the building. “Sasha?”

“Yes?”

“The vehicle parked over there—who does it belong to?”

She leaned slightly to one side to get a better view. “Ah. The man we were just talking about—Linzi’s producer, Trent Birling.”

Rocco turned his scowl back to the vehicle. “It looks as if he knows his way around the compound.”

Sasha punched in a security code on the numeric pad by the door. “I doubt it, unless he’s going someplace on the route between the main gate and the studio block. I don’t think I’ve met anyone quite as single-minded as Trent. Come on in.”

Once inside the annex, Rocco found himself standing at the end of a corridor that stretched the length of the building. Eight windows on the left hand side looked out on the gardens, while a glaring red light drew attention to the last of half a dozen doors on the right hand side.

“The recording studio’s at the far end. Standing orders are not to enter when the light’s on, but I warned Linzi you’d be here for the end of her session.”

“Which is?”

Sasha checked her watch. “In about ten minutes—or it should be. Would you like to see her at work?”

“Please.” If nothing else, it would give him the opportunity to gain an impression of his principal from real life rather than a dossier.