Cut and Run (Lucy Kincaid #16) - Allison Brennan Page 0,82
his vehicle and cut him off. The driver slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting him.
Sean jumped out of the car. Max followed suit, but since Sean was armed and she wasn’t, she stood behind him as he approached the driver.
The driver didn’t get out. He rolled down his window. He was a beefy guy in a suit. “Move your car,” he told Sean.
“Tell your boss that if he has me followed again, I’ll make his life a living hell, understood?”
The driver didn’t look fazed. “Now,” he said.
Sean stared at him. “He doesn’t want to fuck with me.”
The driver looked from Sean to Max, then back at Sean. He rolled up his window and smoothly backed up, almost hitting a mailbox, then drove past Sean’s jeep, missing the rear bumper by inches.
“Don’t give me that look,” Sean said. “He wouldn’t tell you anything. But did you notice his hand?” He climbed back into his jeep; Max followed.
“Hand?”
“Burned. That’s the guy Grant said threatened him.”
Sean picked up his phone. “Big favor … Yeah, I know, but I was good on those Texans tickets last year, wasn’t I? Two more … you just have to confirm information.” He listened, then read off a license plate number, from memory. “I just need to know if it’s registered to Lloyd Barnes Financial Services, or a variation of the name, Harrison Monroe, or HFM, an LLC.”
Only today had Sean learned that Harrison Monroe had a company called HFM. He’d pulled the papers and it was very basic—controlled fifty-fifty with his wife, Faith. But they didn’t appear to do anything except buy and sell land. It was actually very standard for someone to use a holding company for land transactions, especially if they were going to develop or improve the land, then sell.
But a holding company would also help if they were hiding money. If Max were doing it, she wouldn’t put her own name in the title or on the papers.
But then again, she wasn’t prone to breaking serious laws.
“Thanks, Jill. Tell Mark I said hi and the tickets are in the mail.”
He ended the call. “HFM. I’m not surprised. When I reviewed their most recent filings they had four cars registered to the LLC. Two SUVs, two sedans, all black.” He backed up, then headed out of the neighborhood. “We have some research to do, but we have to do it on my computer. It’s secure.”
“Do you have the names of the employees?”
“Yes and no.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“HFM filed with the secretary of state to set up the LLC, and they’ve filed their tax returns on time. The initial filing is public—which we have—but tax returns are not. As it is a private company, none of their financial information is available to the public.”
“Are you deliberately not answering my question?”
“While you were in with Monroe, I may have broken a tiny law. I may have copies of all security badges allowed to access the building.”
“That’s not a tiny law.” She smiled. “But it’s not like we’re going to turn the information over to the FBI and hinder a prosecution.”
“We’ll keep this between you and me. I want to know who that guy is. He may not be on the master list, but my guess is that Monroe wants to keep his personal thugs close. Even private contractors are often given security passes.”
“What are the chances that the guy who threatened Stanley Grant is on the list?”
“If it were me, zero. But Monroe is cocky, and that guy had a scar.”
“How do you know he’s cocky?”
“I listened to your entire conversation. He was calm, reasonable, didn’t respond with any suspicious questions, showed no anger or animosity, only a slight reserved boredom. He was humoring you, and he knew it.”
“I still want to talk to Andy Tompkins.”
“My guess is that he won’t say a word to you.”
“He talked to Ben.”
“Before you put him back on Monroe’s radar. My guess? By now Monroe either has called him and threatened him or had someone pay him a visit to keep his mouth shut.”
“If you won’t drive to Dallas, maybe I should.”
“Save the time and call him. I guarantee you, he will not help.”
Sean didn’t know her well. She looked up Tompkins’s number and punched it in. “Mr. Tompkins, this is Maxine Revere. I work with Ben Lawson at—”
“You fucking bitch. Lawson said you wanted information! Just research, he said. Now Harrison is going to destroy me.”