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Switched
HelenKay Dimon


For security expert Aaron, it was just another routine job, protecting his client at an office party.Until commandos stormed the place and took a hostage. But they had the wrong woman…innocent Risa. Now, trapped in the midst of a deadly conspiracy, only her sexy new protector Aaron stands between Risa and a bullet.









“You’re leaving me.”


“Only for as long as it takes to end this thing.” He figured he had seconds only before he had to be ready for whatever came through that door. “I want you to know one thing.”

He didn’t touch her, because his control would break and right now he needed his mind in the game. But later everything would be different. “When this is over I’m going to kiss you. One of those long, sexy kisses that knock your shoes off and have you wondering why you ever bothered to kiss a man before me.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” Risa said.

“It comes from the slow buildup of simple dates to a complex disaster. This has been brewing. It’s all wrapped up with adrenaline and excitement.” He leaned in. “And now it’s out of our control.”




About the Author


Award-winning author HELENKAY DIMON spent twelve years in the most unromantic career ever—divorce lawyer. After dedicating all that effort to helping people terminate relationships, she is thrilled to deal in happy endings and write romance novels for a living. Now her days are filled with gardening, writing, reading and spending time with her family in and around San Diego. HelenKay loves hearing from readers, so stop by her website, www.helenkaydimon.com, and say hello.




Switched

HelenKay Dimon





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To all the readers who have bought my Mills & Boon


Intrigue books and sent me such lovely notes and emails. Thank you!




Chapter One


Aaron McBain stood in the only doorway without mistletoe taped to the beam and checked his watch for the tenth time. The schedule ticked along with precision. No surprises. No problems.

He knew that was a bad sign.

No holiday party ever ran on time or as planned. Actually, no party, meeting or anything sponsored by Craft Industries sailed along without an issue. But a half hour before the official kickoff, a steady line of sullen office workers dressed in gray suits filed in and now hovered in groups around tables and near the Christmas tree set up on the small stage at the far end of the room.

Absent was the usual happy holiday chatter found at similar events for other companies, likely because the boss declared attendance mandatory for this after-hours, nowhere-near-the-office party. Amazing how requiring people to have fun guaranteed they didn’t.

Neither did the thirty-mile drive from their northern Virginia office building in McLean to the Elan Conference Center at the edge of the metro area’s wine country in Loudoun County. Lowell Craft, the company’s president and owner, lived out there and didn’t care what kind of traffic disaster the Washington, D.C., rush hour imposed on everyone else.

Aaron wasn’t exactly on fire for the party, either, and the drive was only one frustration. For the past three months, since he and his team had been hired by Lowell to provide him with extra security, he’d been handling everything from drunken rages in the office hallways by dismissed employees to outright threats against Lowell. And since Lowell spouted some controversial business theories, including one about how what motivated the staff was a series of unexpected firings on Fridays, it was amazing the guy wasn’t attacked in the office parking lot every afternoon.

But there was a viable threat today, had been for months since Lowell got the first note promising a painful death if he didn’t step down as head of the company by Christmas. Which was why Aaron stood three feet away from where Lowell inspected the buffet table, wearing his usual frown. He apparently didn’t approve of the festive atmosphere the center had provided. Not a surprise to Aaron since as far as he could tell Lowell didn’t like anything.

Aaron blew out a long breath as he listened to his assistant, Royal Jenkins, whistle an annoying tune into the open-ear mic. When the frustrated exhale didn’t drive the point home, Aaron tried an across-the-room scowl at the man who was younger, fitter and less disciplined but possessed sniper-level shooting skills thanks to his short army stint.

Finally Aaron went for the direct approach with Royal. “Any chance you could stop that?”

“You want to request a different song?” Royal smiled as he nodded a welcome to Angie Troutman, the woman who by day ran the Craft human resources department and by night serviced Lowell. Their evening activities were a constant source of office gossip.

“Let’s start with a moment of silence and then go from there,” Aaron said.

Royal walked across the room and two seconds later stood next to Aaron. “You notice something missing at this party?”

Aaron watched the employees crowd together at a point in the room farthest away from their boss. “People who actually want to be here?”

“There is that, but no.”

“Is it the lack of anything resembling holiday cheer or happiness?”

“Music.”

“Ah, yes. Lowell sent around a memo prohibiting music in the workplace.” Aaron eyed the business dictator in question as he moved around the serving platters the catering staff had just carefully arranged on the buffet. When the man snapped his fingers at one of the servers to get his attention, Aaron looked away. “Lowell said something about the Christmas carols distracting the employees from their work.”

“But we’re not at the office.”

“I’m not sure Lowell sees a distinction. All fun is bad.”

“With his lack of holiday spirit, why bother throwing the party at all? Unless he’s charging them to attend.” Royal’s gaze shot to Aaron. “Oh, man. He’s not, is he?”

“Worse, I heard the party is in place of year-end bonuses and cost-of-living adjustments for the next year.”

“Classy.”

Despite his distaste for Lowell, Aaron had to watch over the guy. Aaron had enough troubles without blowing this assignment. Unlike Craft’s, Aaron’s staff got bonuses and had time off and were even allowed to get sick now and then. All of that required money. Lowell did pay his bills, which allowed Aaron to keep paying his. A timely check was just about the only positive aspect of Lowell’s personality Aaron could find.

Not that Lowell was making the current job easy. At the beginning of the assignment, he’d had a habit of disappearing during the middle of the day and then wandering back in with a stupid grin a few hours after lunch. He did that until Aaron started shadowing the older man’s every step.

Slim and tall with brown hair peppered with gray, Lowell had the kind of power and money many women found attractive, though Aaron had no idea why. The guy reeked of the same smarminess usually reserved for career politicians. He possessed all the people skills of a serial killer. He never offered his age, but people who knew him back when pegged it in the mid-fifties. He had a wife and a twenty-three-year-old son, and just like the people who worked for him, neither family member could stand him.

Then there was the other side of Lowell’s life. The man pretended to be a what-you-see-is-what-you-get type, but Aaron knew better. You couldn’t dig into every aspect of a man’s existence without having to brush off some dirt. And this Craft guy slid around in mud every single day.

Aaron glanced over at the thirty-something brunette with the long legs and short attention span sitting at the table all alone, sipping on a glass of something clear. “Rumor is Angie requested the party because morale is so low and even in a rough economy she’s worried about a mass employee exodus.”

“And Lowell sure listens to Angie.” Royal half laughed, half coughed. “Speaking of which, it’s nice of Lowell to invite the wife and the mistress to the same party.”

“Alleged mistress.” Aaron said the words as an afterthought as he scanned the room for Mrs. Craft and came up empty. He was just about to send Royal looking for her when the two men waiting by the elevator grabbed his attention.

They had matching military haircuts and dark suits, and neither spent a second checking out the party. They didn’t work at Craft. Aaron would put money on that. After the second death threat, he’d run a security check on all employees, past and present. He’d checked out the Elan staff, as well. Either these two slipped through the screening without Aaron noticing—and since one of the guys had shoulders wider than the elevator doors, Aaron doubted it—or they were uninvited. Neither option made Aaron happy.

He elbowed Royal. “Who are those two?”

Royal’s gaze followed Aaron’s nod. “Waitstaff?”

“Not anyone I checked in.”

“And not wearing the right uniform.” Royal’s gaze narrowed. “Why are they headed for the elevators when the food is in here?”

Royal’s shifting to attack mode was all the confirmation Aaron needed of impending trouble. The guy had pitch-perfect instincts thanks to years in and around the mountains of Afghanistan’s Kunar Province.

Aaron barked out orders to the rest of the team listening in on the earpieces. “We need help up here. Palmer?”

When Lowell’s head of security, Palmer Trask, didn’t check in, the emergency signal in Aaron’s brain flashed even brighter.

“The lack of a response can’t be good,” Royal said under his breath.

“We also need to find Craft’s wife.”

Royal whipped around, his gaze scanning the room. “She was just here.”

“Not now.” With her model-perfect figure and straight-out-of-a-magazine outfit, the woman stuck out in a crowd even while she hugged the corner of the room. But now Aaron had bigger problems. “I need two people in here. Report to Royal in the dining room. The rest hold the perimeter.”

“Do we need to shut the place down?”

Aaron turned to Royal. “Not yet. You stick to Lowell. He doesn’t breathe without falling over you.”

“Done.”

“I’ll take the stairs. Let me know where the elevator stops.” Aaron did one last visual sweep of the room, looking for other people who failed to trip his memory bank.

“Remember you have two guys to handle when you get up there,” Royal said.

Aaron sure as hell hoped the number was only two. “My worry is they are part of a bigger scheme.”

“If they are?”

Aaron patted his hip in a weapons check. “I’ll handle it.”

“Nothing new there.”




Chapter Two


Risa Peters clutched her portfolio to her chest and leaned back against the elevator wall. This was the first time she’d chosen a holiday party venue based on a throwaway recommendation during a dinner date with the lawyer she’d seen exactly twice. The same dinner date who failed to call after their last meal together. Since it was already Thursday, she figured the man was on the run, which was a shame because the chocolate-brown hair, blue-green eyes, all-American handsome type appealed to her.

So did the Elan Conference Center. She was only able to book it for an afternoon during the busy season because the place wasn’t truly open to the public yet. The center was in the middle of something called a soft opening. The official ribbon cutting would come in mid-January, after the holiday rush subsided. For a discounted fee and an agreement to forgo some party extravagances, Elan agreed to host the party on very little notice.

Risa doubted the office budget at Buchanan Engineering would support the place next year when the amenities hit their stride, but she could enjoy it now. The miles of rolling hills and the long winding drive up to the place sparkled even more in real life than they did on the website. So did the sprawling five-story building with the stone facade and the huge double-door, double-height entry.

It would all work so long as the weather held out. One flake of snow and next week’s party would turn into a driving hazard.

Not that any of this—the late planning, the distance or the weather—qualified as being her fault. Oh, no. She’d been the office manager at the engineering firm all of three weeks when she realized the woman who used to have the job, and now held the title of fired former office manager, failed to reserve a place for the annual holiday get-together. Since the engineers liked to party, the oversight bordered on catastrophic. So Risa was here today to scout the center out, see the party room on the fourth floor, then sign the agreement and hand over a check.

If she survived this mess-up, pulled the party off and got all the engineers home without a drunken episode, she’d still have a job next week. And she sure needed the job. Without it she’d never pull herself out of the economic tailspin Paul had thrown her into.

When the elevator doors opened, she almost stepped out of the car. A quick glance at the glowing green number on the panel told her she’d only made it to the third floor. One more to go.

She stepped back just as a beefy hand reached into the open space and jammed the doors before they could close. Two guys with black jackets and broad shoulders slid inside the car. They hugged the front of the elevator, but the walls still closed in on her.

She knew the lights didn’t dim at their entry, but everything seemed darker, felt colder, than it had a second before. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the car as they’d moved in.

They didn’t look at her. Didn’t speak. But the way their combined bodies blocked any chance she might need of a quick exit had her nerves jumping around in her stomach.

She counted the seconds until the car moved again and stopped on the fourth floor. In her head she reached a thousand, but she guessed that was some sort of sick mind trick. Still, when the bell dinged, she shot between them, her hands shoving them apart.

“Excuse me,” she said over their surprised grunts.

Then she walked as fast as she could without breaking into an all-out run. A few fast steps and she turned the corner. With her back pressed against the wall, she listened for the two hulks to make sure they didn’t follow.

When silence echoed back at her, she inhaled. The sharp smell of paint assailed her nose. A quick glance told her she was alone on a newly constructed floor. Protective paper and painter’s tape still covered some of the doors.

“Great.” She sucked in as much of the tainted air as she could take in an effort to slow her hammering heart.

Only then did she feel the tiny jabs against her skin. She opened her palms, peeling her fingers away from the tight clench on the leather binder between her shaking hands.

She wasn’t the spook-easy type, having learned long ago that some of the most dangerous men in the world didn’t lead with their hands or fit into the Neanderthal body type. But she wasn’t stupid. Any smart woman would experience a choke of vulnerable panic being trapped alone with those two bruisers on an enclosed elevator.

She walked toward the restroom sign but stopped when she saw the note on the door. Out of Order. Use 5th Floor.

Her residual panic skittered away. Frustration took its place, shaking through her with the force of a runaway truck. It was bad enough the conference manager got stuck on a call and sent her up ahead. Now she had to wander around looking for a restroom.

She glanced at the elevator, then at the emergency stairwell to the left of the bathroom. She’d take her chances on the stairs this time. With terror fueling her steps and wearing a pantsuit and low heels, she could run if she had to. In an elevator, she’d have nowhere to go.

She hit the stairwell and let her pumps click against the cement steps as she traveled up a floor. A quick peek through the small slit where she opened the door showed nothing but a carpeted hallway with an abandoned industrial carpet shampooer against the wall. Most of the doors weren’t even on their hinges yet on this floor.

She waited for any sign of life, any noise. When the floor remained quiet, she snuck into the ladies’ restroom and let the door softly shut behind her on a swish.

With her palms flat against the fancy quartz sink, she stood still and let her breathing and heart rate dip back into normal range. As she pivoted for the stalls, the main door flew open. A blur dressed in black raced toward her. Before she could scream, hands clamped down on her arms and the figure shoved her hard against a stall door and back into the enclosed area. She only stopped when the back of her legs hit the toilet.

When her brain kicked back into gear, her arms and legs started moving. Her attacker’s hand settled over her mouth even as she shook her head to avoid him.

“Stop. I’m here to help.” The harsh whisper bounced off the tiles as the man crowded around her, though his focus was centered on the restroom door.

One more step and her back hit the far stall wall and her head came up. If the guy wanted to hurt her, he’d have to watch her as he did it … and be on the receiving end of the battle of a lifetime.

The air gathered in her lungs and then rushed out in a raging scream as she decided to go for his face. When he turned back to her, her next breath stalled and her brain cells sputtered to a halt. “Aaron?”

“Risa?” His fingers clenched against her skin one last time then his arms dropped to his sides. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a ladies’ restroom.”

“No, I mean … the building. This area. Why are you here?”

“You told me about this place when I said I needed a party venue. Why are you here?”

“This is unbelievable.” His mouth stayed open even after he stopped talking.

His shock was nothing compared to hers. No matter how hard she tried to blink, she couldn’t. She took in the same sexy eyes. Same dark brown hair he liked to smooth his hand through. A dark suit and a firm jaw.

But not everything about him looked familiar. She focused on the gun tucked into the holster at his waist. “Since when does a tax attorney carry a gun?”

He held up his hands. “Keep your voice down.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all.” His voice barely carried over the soft hum from the heating vent above her head. “I can explain all of this.”

Fury blew over her with the force of a hurricane. “While you’re at it, maybe you can make up an excuse for why you didn’t call after our last date.”

“What?”

“You know, the dinner we had. The call you never made.” Her head buzzed with red-hot rage at the memory.

He finally clamped his jaw shut. “This isn’t the right time.”

“Oh, really?”

He winced the second before he glanced behind him again. “Look, I know this is awkward.”

“No kidding.” This time she did keep her voice down, but only because she was muttering.

“In my defense, I’ve been a little busy.” His mouth hovered over her ear as he spoke.

“Lying takes up a lot of your time, does it?” Now he had her whispering. And arguing in a bathroom stall on an empty floor of a not-yet-opened building.

The day just kept getting better and better.

“We can fight about this later, which I’m not looking forward to at all, by the way, but right now we have to—” He reached for her again.

“Since when are you so grabby?” She shrugged out of his grasp and then stopped when she spied the tiny lines of tension around his mouth. “What is it?”

“I need you to stay calm.”

“I’m not thirteen. I can take bad news.” She fought the urge to ruin her point by rolling her eyes.

“Then you won’t lose it when I tell you we have to hide.”

She tried to stop her eyes from blinking so fast. “I didn’t say that.”

ANGIE TROUTMAN STOOD up from the empty table without bothering to scan the room. People were staring and whispering because that’s what these losers did. So much jealousy packed into one small room. The room pulsed with it. She was almost sorry she’d talked Lowell into wasting money on them. Their lack of gratitude choked out any chance of enjoying the party.

She scanned the unhappy faces for Palmer, official Craft security, but instead spied a member of the outside team hired to back up Palmer. Not that the backup team viewed itself as anything other than being in charge. She’d warned Lowell about the potential turf war and he’d ignored her, citing the death threats.

Men never listened.

She tried for eye contact with the random security guard nearby. She couldn’t remember his name. It was something odd, one of those names parents chose when they wanted to be clever but ultimately ended up dooming their children to snickers.

But the name didn’t matter. She had a bigger issue. Aaron McBain had been trouble since he’d walked through the Craft lobby doors and taken over without saying a word. Something about his presence demanded attention. He issued orders and people jumped.

Worse, bringing him on board added to the Craft hierarchy, a pyramid she’d already given up so much to climb. After only a few days in the building, McBain had showed up everywhere, making it nearly impossible for her to speak privately with Lowell when needed. And now, when she needed him to stay in one place and in clear sight, McBain had disappeared off the floor. Hardly the keen skills of a crack security expert promised by the lucrative contract he’d signed with Craft.

Since his assistant—whatever his name was—was talking to someone rather than looking at her, she poked him in the arm to get his attention. “What’s your name?”

His head turned toward her, his gaze bouncing down to her hand and then back to her face, but his frown never wavering. “It’s still Royal Jenkins, ma’am. Just like it was when you asked yesterday.”

She’d insist on his company firing him from this assignment if she had the power to do so, and by Monday she’d convince Lowell to give it to her. She’d see if this man’s voice still dripped with disdain when he was standing in front of her desk, begging for his job. “Well, Roy. We have a—”

“Royal.”

As if she had time for this holier-than-thou male nonsense. She let her fake smile fall. “Where is your boss?”

“Excuse me?”

“McBain. His job is to watch Mr. Craft.” She glanced to where Lowell last stood and froze when she saw him across the room, handing his wife a drink. With a quick mental shake, Angie returned to the crisis at hand.

“He’s checking the rest of the building.”

She felt the blood drain from her head. “I don’t pay him to be hotel security.”

“Craft pays for his expertise. Right now he is ensuring the safety and integrity of the floors above us, which is protocol.”

That was the last place he could be at that moment. She couldn’t have him snooping around. “I need him here.”

Royal’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

She inhaled deeply, trying to calm the sudden swirl of rage and anxiety inside her. If she showed any outward sign of concern, this man would jump on it. He might be insubordinate, but he wasn’t stupid. She knew that from the way his gaze wandered around the room, taking in every movement, assessing and analyzing.

She folded her fingers together in front of her. “McBain has declared himself in charge of Mr. Craft’s personal safety. As such, your man should be in sight of Mr. Craft at all times.”

The stern line of Royal’s mouth eased. “I appreciate your … unique concern for Mr. Craft.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice turned to ice.

Royal didn’t even flinch. Certainly didn’t back off. “You are invested in your boss. I understand that.”

She had to clench her jaw to keep from screaming. All men were the same. They led with their pants, but she did not have the time to charm this one, so she let the fury bubbling inside her erupt into a heated whisper. “Call McBain now. I want him in front of me within the next two minutes.”

“I’ll let him know you requested to talk with him.” Royal nodded, then turned slightly, giving her his back as he motioned for one of his men to step forward.

Angie ignored the sharp dismissal. Roy or whatever his name was would learn the hard way not to cross her. She would make it her mission to put him in the unemployment office.

But not today. She was too busy staring past him to the elevator bank. The red light held on number five, exactly where it was supposed to be, yet she knew in her soul something was deeply wrong.




Chapter Three


Aaron’s bad day tripped and fell right into nightmare territory. He stared at the woman he’d last seen across the table at an Italian restaurant. Same honey-brown hair. Pretty face, intelligent dark eyes. Only this time the smile had been replaced with flat-lined lips. Wariness and more than a touch of female indignation now played across her face.

Risa clearly thought their biggest problem was his late post-date call. Little did she know that was flowers and chocolates territory compared to what they were facing now.

He thought about reaching for her but decided to hold up his hands instead since she looked about two seconds away from hitting something, namely him. “Listen to me.”

She crossed her arms over her stomach until every muscle in her body practically dared him to make another mistake. “Go ahead.”

He waded in even though he knew the smartest thing was to knock her out with the gentlest tap possible, drag her out the door and rush her to safety. But if his dating etiquette ticked her off, he could only guess how she’d react to a physical solution to their current problem.

He’d already dumped a few sins at her feet. Lying to her had seemed like the safest bet at the time. Now not so much.

Then there was the problem of Royal listening in through their private communication circuit. He’d ride Aaron about the date-gone-wrong for years unless Aaron took the focus off the personal conversation and put it back on the mess swirling around them.

“Not a word.” He whispered the command and knew Royal understood when he chuckled over the comm, then mumbled something about Angie wanting him. Right, as if that woman was even on his radar at the moment. “Silence.”

Risa’s eyebrow shot up in a perfect angry teacher glare. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”

“Definitely not.” Hard to explain he was talking to the guy at the other end of a listening device. Better to look like a total jerk than expose every aspect of the operation at this tenuous stage. “I specifically did not use those words. I’m not a total idiot.”

“Really?”

It was time to calm the situation down before she went into ballistic mode. Aaron went with the simple truth. “It’s dangerous here.”

“In the bathroom?”

“You need to see the bigger picture here.”

She exhaled in that you-are-annoying way women telegraphed so well. “I have no idea what that means.”

“The danger is in every inch of this building.”

“This is the strangest excuse for a noncall ever. If you didn’t want to go out again, you could have just said—” Her words cut off at the sound of the sharp whack against the outside wall.

One of his hands went to her mouth, and the other cradled her head from behind. “Quiet.”

This time she followed his direction. Her big eyes popped open even wider as she nodded.

“Someone is out there.” He stalled by stating the obvious. It gave his mind a second to run through the memory of the building’s floor plans.

She held up two fingers.

“What?” He eased his hand away from her mouth.

Her bottom lip trembled. Other than that, her mouth barely moved as she whispered, “They’re huge.”

“What are we talking about?”

“On the elevator. Two men and they’re big. Like the size of a small shed. And pretty scary. Did I mention that?”

Tension rolled across his shoulders and cramped the nerve at the back of his neck. “Did they threaten you?”

“Didn’t say a word. Didn’t really have to. These guys are imposing. I’m thinking any woman alone and without a gun or a massive boyfriend would run.”

Aaron’s muscles unclenched but not much. He still had to hope the two she described were the same two guys he’d been following and not a second muscle team. “I need to get you out of here.”

“There’s a stairwell.”

Her skin had paled to the hue of crisp white sheets. Every few seconds a fine tremble moved through her body and vibrated under his hand. He knew she had to be terrified, but she didn’t curl into a ball or so much as whimper. He found that strength more attractive than her long legs and sexy smile, though those sure were impressive.

The twinge of guilt over not calling her back as promised, as he had intended to do before work kicked up and pounded him, turned into a crashing wave. Any man would be lucky to get another date with her and he’d blown the chance. The least he could do was get her out of the building while he figured out the threat level.

“Stay here.” He eased away from her and slipped across the floor in soundless steps. “Royal?”

When Aaron didn’t get a reply, he tapped on the earpiece. He’d just reached the door when it slammed open and into him. The force shoved him back against the wall. His gun jerked from his fingers and clanked against the tile floor by his feet.

The doorknob jabbed into his midsection as he bit back a curse. One of the men he’d seen from the elevator shoved his weight against the door, banging on his thick body until Aaron thought his chest would cave in. The move stole his breath, trapping his hands in front of him and pinning his back to the wall.

He shifted and shoved, trying to get traction and a better grip, but the metal door crushed his gut, and his strength proved useless. Blackness raged through his veins as his gaze bounced between the vulnerable woman frozen in place in the middle of the room and the muscle trying to knock him unconscious with a door.

The sudden roar of Royal’s voice echoed in Aaron’s ears, but he couldn’t make out the words. All Aaron heard was the rush of his own breath as it moved through him. His brain scrambled for a backup plan.

“Double up.” It was their code for assistance, but Aaron wasn’t even sure he said the words out loud. The doorknob connected with his gut once again and knocked the air right out of his lungs.

The attacker’s friend moved into the room, his shoes quiet against the floor but his shoulders knocking against the door frame. Risa hadn’t exaggerated. He had a thick neck and biceps that kept his arms from lying close to his side. From this distance, it was clear the guy engaged in some serious training. The type that included flipping tractor tires. This guy obviously was in charge.

The man didn’t even spare Aaron a glance. He aimed the gun directly at Risa’s head. “Enough.”

Aaron blinked, knowing he was the intended recipient of that message. “What do you want?”

“Her.”

“Me?” Risa squealed the question, her voice bouncing off the walls.

The attacker held out a beefy hand in Risa’s direction. “Time to go, Angie.”

Risa’s fingers tightened on the edge of the stall door until her knuckles turned white. “I don’t—”

Her gaze raced to Aaron’s face. He nodded, letting her know she could answer. The longer they dragged this out, the better chance Royal could burst in with reinforcements.

Risa swallowed hard enough for her throat to move. “Who’s Angie?”

The leader shook his head as he took a step in her direction. “We’re not doing this.”

“You have the wrong woman.”

“And you’ve wasted enough of my time.”

Risa shook her head, her bewilderment obvious in every part of her body and in her voice. “What is happening here?”

“You don’t get to ask questions.” The leader pointed at Risa before sparing Aaron a glance. “Who are you?”

“I work at Craft. The lady and I met at the party downstairs and came up here for some privacy.” Aaron went for a guy-to-guy moment but knew he’d misfired when a feral smile spread across the leader’s face.

The guy took his time on a visual tour of Risa’s body. “Nice.”

The attacker crowded against the door barked out a laugh as Risa’s face morphed from white to gray. These two made quite a team. The type that reinforced Aaron’s belief in women’s self-defense classes.

“Come here.” The leader reached for her as he made his demand.

Just as fast, Risa stepped back. Her heels clicked against the floor as she scooted her body deeper into the stall.

“Stop.” The leader lunged and grabbed her elbow. With one tug, he had her back in the middle of the room and within inches of the gun in his other hand.

“You have the wrong person.” Her words rushed out.

“Let’s all step back and relax for a second.” Aaron shifted his weight as he spoke. He eased one foot out from behind the door.

“Shut up,” the attacker who was crushing him shouted.

Risa shook her head. “We didn’t do anything.”

“You are on this floor, right where you’re supposed to be.” When the attacker pulled on her arm, she stumbled. “Move again without permission and I’ll put a bullet in your boyfriend.”

The man made the threat, but both men’s guns never wavered. Both pointed at Risa, which gave Aaron the advantage he needed.

With as little movement as possible, he slid his hand into his inside jacket pocket, fumbling with the fabric until his fingers connected with the metal from one of his extra weapons.

Using all his weight, he crashed his body against the door and knocked the backup attacker off balance. His head snapped back when the door connected with his face. Blood spurted from his nose, and his hands went to his face as his attention slipped from the attack.

“Risa, get down!” Aaron barely got the words out before the leader turned toward him.

She dropped to her knees as the room broke into chaos. Aaron got off two quick rounds that boomed through the shouting. One shot exploded through the door, catching the backup attacker in the side and sending him falling back into the hallway on a howl of pain.

Aaron’s second shot slammed into the leader’s shoulder and spun him around and straight into Risa. He stumbled over her, then fell to the floor over her back.

Despite Royal’s yelling in his ear and Risa’s screaming in the small room, Aaron kept moving. He pocketed the fallen attacker’s dropped weapon. With a quick glance at the man heaving and rolling in pain in the hall, Aaron raced toward Risa. He reached down and pulled her up beside him, then pivoted toward freedom.

They got two steps before her trim body turned to deadweight. It was as if her feet fell out from under her. Aaron assumed she tripped and bent down to lift her, only then seeing the death grip the leader had on her ankle.

“Drop the gun.” He issued the order through shallow breaths.

As he held the weapon pointed at them, the man’s hand shook. He blinked repeatedly as if trying to keep a cloud from settling over his mind.

Aaron didn’t waste any time. He kicked out, ramming his heel into the other man’s fist and sending the gun flying from his loose fingers. The second kick landed on the guy’s temple and pressed him into an unconscious heap.

Risa gasped as she lost her balance and Aaron grabbed her. Relief flooded through him when her hand tightened on his. With a tug, he drew her into his arms and held on with all his strength.

Feeling her body shake against his brought reality rushing back. She was a civilian in the wrong place at the very wrong time. She was innocent, as were the people downstairs. Someone was making a move on Lowell and somehow mistook Risa for Angie. The plan reeked of desperation and poor planning. That meant everyone was a target and no one in the building was safe.

Royal’s voice finally registered in Aaron’s ear. Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own. “Where are you?”

“Coming.” A one-word reply, and then silence filled the other end of the line.

“Royal?”

Risa wrapped her fingers around Aaron’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.” It was as if the world went quiet. No one even breathed on the other end of the comm.

Worry for his team warred with the fury racing through his body over the attack on Risa and how close he came to having her pulled out of his hands. But the groan in the hallway as the slumped man tried to sit up against the wall refocused Aaron’s attention on the disaster on this floor.

“Stay here.” He tried to move away from Risa, but she held on.

“No way are you walking away from me again.”

Since she left his shooting hand free, he didn’t argue. With her body plastered against his side, he walked toward the injured man.

“Who do you work for?”

The man on the floor snarled as he pressed his hand against his bloody side. His shoulders rose and fell on labored breaths, but he had enough energy left to pronounce his loyalty. “Go to hell.”

Aaron shoved his foot against the man’s open wound and the blood-soaked shirt underneath. The string of curses started a second later, but Aaron didn’t let up. He increased the pressure until the other man squirmed against the floor.

He winced and swore. “I don’t know.”

Aaron leaned in, letting menace flow through his voice as he aimed his gun at the attacker’s head. “Someone is paying you and you have two seconds to tell me.”

The guy slid flat against the floor, his voice shifting from talking to panting. “My orders were to grab the woman.”

Risa leaned over his shoulder. “You picked the wrong one.”

Confusion wrinkled the man’s brow.

Aaron didn’t let that part of the conversation go any further. “I want a name.”

“I don’t know.” The man shouted his answer this time.

Fearing the guy had an earpiece or a mic, Aaron ended the interrogation. With a sweep of his arm, he landed a sleeping blow to the side of the guy’s head, knocking him unconscious.

“He’s still bleeding,” she said.

“Right.” Part of him didn’t mind the idea of this guy bleeding out, not after what he’d tried to do to Risa, but Aaron figured he’d lost enough humanity in this job. He couldn’t afford much more.

Using the cloth towels on the sink top, he constructed a makeshift bandage and pressed it hard to the guy’s side, anchoring it there with his belt.

Risa leaned over Aaron’s shoulder. “Will that be enough?”

He didn’t pretend to be a medical expert, but he knew the guy needed real attention soon. “For now.”

After a quick check for more weapons and a phone, which proved futuile, Aaron turned back to Risa, expecting to see fear or disgust at the violence and bloodshed. Instead, she bit her lower lip, as if in deep thought.

“What is going on? I came to check out a party venue and walked into some sort of mistaken-identity nightmare.” Her voice slowly returned to normal as she spoke. Gone was the tremor of fear. In its place was a simple determination to get through the next few minutes.

Aaron appreciated the change, and the bluntness of her response startled him into an honest answer. “It looks like someone is planning an attack against the businessman downstairs and is using a woman to get to him.”

“This Angie person.”

“Yes, and I have no idea how anyone would confuse the two of you.” Aaron’s mind shifted to the Lowell’s mistress. They both had long brown hair and hovered around five foot six. But the similarities stopped there.

Angie was in her early thirties, a few years older than Risa, with a deep bourbon-soaked voice and a buxom Barbie Doll shape that had men discounting her brains. Aaron didn’t like the overly done look, but he never underestimated her. The woman ran the office with a quiet confidence and manipulated everyone in it, ignoring the affair whispers blowing around her.

Where Angie reminded Aaron of smoke-filled back rooms and expensive jewelry tastes, Risa … glowed. With the soft skin and shiny hair, it was as if sunshine kept her in its sights. The skeptic in him wondered if he’d seen so much bad that goodness of any type got magnified to an unrealistic degree.

His luck with women usually made sure that didn’t happen. One broken engagement hadn’t ruined him for all women, but it did make him wary. But he’d been struck by Risa from the very first time he saw her fighting with her laptop in a coffee shop a few weeks ago. Wearing sweatpants and a slim T-shirt, she’d had that sexy, ruffled, just-out-of-bed look that had sent his temperature spiking.

She didn’t have to work very hard at being pretty. When you turned over on the mattress in the morning, you knew who you’d see on the pillow beside you. She wouldn’t have to put on her face first. At least that’s how it had worked in Aaron’s mind. He’d never gotten as far as the bed, or even the couch, let alone a kiss, with Risa.

Yet.

Risa treated him to a half smile. “You know when I see this Angie person and do a comparison, you might get punched for that comment, right?”

“I’d prefer you anytime and anywhere.” He held a hand up as a pledge. “Couldn’t be more serious about that.”

Risa lifted an eyebrow but didn’t respond to that. “Why are these two up here? It’s supposed to be closed off.”

“Good question.” He put his hands on her upper arms and with as little pressure as possible, moved her until she stood near the opening to the room with her back against the wall. “Stay right there.”

“Where else would I go?”

She sounded almost exasperated with his suggestion. She did everything but snort. He had to smile at her spunk. She’d been manhandled and threatened, seen men shot and attacked. Still, she stood there and handled it all. Not bad for a woman who sat behind a desk all day.

Aaron dragged the attacker by his ankles from the hallway and dropped his body next to his partner by the stall. After a check of the leader’s pockets, Aaron unloaded the weapons, littering the floor, pocketing the all the ammunition and dumping the guns in the toilet. He kept the leader’s secondary gun in case he needed an extra.

He had one last problem as he glanced up at Risa. “Any chance you have any rope?”

She lifted her arms. “Not on me.”

“Thought it was worth a shot.”

“There are cables and those sorts of things around as part of the construction.”

That meant a trip around the building looking for supplies. He doubted they had that sort of time, not when Royal had gone silent. “We’ll block the door and trust they’ll be out long enough for us to get downstairs and out of the building.”

“And if not?”

He stood in front of her, his gaze locked on hers. “I can’t be that unlucky.”

“You’re saying that as a tax attorney, of course.”

He didn’t try to hide the wince. He’d hoped he’d have another few minutes before the need for an explanation caught up and smacked him in the face. “What makes you think I’m not a lawyer?”

She eyed his hand. “The gun.”

“I can explain.”

Her head dropped to the side. “Are you going to?”

“Not right now.”

“Normally I’d insist, but since I want to leave this place right now—ten minutes ago, actually—we can save the I-lied-to-you-about-everything conversation for later.”

Not exactly a bullet dodged. “I’m not really looking forward to that.”

“Imagine how I feel.”

“Good point.”




Chapter Four


Risa slipped into the hallway behind Aaron, never easing up on her double-fisted grip on his jacket. This close, pressed against his back, she felt a subtle minty scent tingle her senses and block out the smell of new paint. She leaned in, almost touching her nose to his rich brown hair, and drew in a hint of his shampoo. Fresh, clean and nonfussy.

Until he showed up waving a gun around, she’d viewed him as uncomplicated and easy. When he’d dropped into the seat across from her at the coffee shop that day they first met, she’d found him to be handsome and smart, with an open smile that lit up his face.

She loved his slightly crooked nose, which he explained got banged up in a college lacrosse game. During their dinner dates, he’d wait until dessert and then slip his hand into hers. Leaving the restaurant, he’d press his palm against the sensitive small of her back. But at every point she thought he’d move their relationship forward, he pulled back.

She’d started to wonder if the attraction only sparked one way. Now she knew something much bigger was going on. He had a secret life. Since she needed his protection and the gun he seemed to handle so well, she didn’t hold his other life against him at the moment. There would be time for that later … she hoped.

“Risa?”

“Yes?” She matched her whisper to his as the bathroom door slipped shut behind her.

“I can’t breathe.”

“What?”

He reached around and touched his fingers to hers. It wasn’t until that minute she realized she’d pulled his jacket and dress shirt so tightly that the collar was choking him. His skin turned red and puckered from the force of her grip.

She dropped her hands and stepped back. “I’m so sorry.”

He winked at her over his shoulder. “You are more than welcome to undress me later. For now, I need the clothes on and in place.”

Then he was off. He eased all six feet of his lean body to the edge of the hallway where it dumped into the larger open space. Bending down, he grabbed something on the floor of the other room and stood back up. When he faced her again, he had a broom in his hands.

Her mind was stuck on repeat. “You’ve never said anything like that before.”

His face went blank. “What are you talking about?”

“Undressing. Sex. Anything intimate.”

She thought she saw a smile cross his lips as he brushed past her. A clanking thud echoed down the hall as he jammed the broom in the door handle. Shoving the small phone table outside the bathroom against the door produced a squeak that broke the remaining silence.

The scene took two seconds and amounted to less than a few sounds and a rattle of drawers in the table, and she spent the entire time standing there, staring at his hands and wondering not for the first time what he could do with them. When she blinked, he was in front of her again.

“Did you really think I never had that on my mind? That I never wrestled with the best way to get you out of your clothes?”

“I thought you were a tax attorney.”

This time he didn’t hide the smile. “I’m pretty sure they appreciate pretty women just as much as other men do.”

Okay, not her brightest comment. She’d admit that. Or she would if she could. Something about this conversation made her mind turn to mush. “Well, yeah, I …”

“I’d bet attorneys like sex, too.”

She had no idea what to say to that. Luckily, she was spared coming up with something smooth or even coherent, when he held out his hand. She took it without thinking.

“We’re going to stand over here, away from this door, and check in with downstairs,” he said.

She hated just about every part of the plan. “I thought we were leaving.”

“We need to make sure it’s clear first. That we aren’t in some sort of lockdown.” His eyes swept over the sterile surroundings and kept moving as he talked. He checked all around them, as if attackers could come from any angle.

“This is ridiculous. I was just trying to book a party.” She rubbed her forehead as she muttered.

When his fingers brushed over hers and he brought her hand to his mouth, her breath caught in her chest. Just rumbled up and stuck there.

“It’s going to be okay.” He leaned in and touched his warm lips against her forehead.

She would have said something if she could have forced even a syllable out. Instead, the words lodged in her throat, right next to her last breath. Much more of this tug of emotions, this wobbling between fear and attraction, and she’d pass out.

With his gaze locked on hers, he let go of her hand and tapped his ear and began speaking. “Royal.”

“Is that code for something?” she whispered.

“It’s a name.” Aaron tried two more times, then frowned.

She didn’t need a law degree or a gun license to know the lack of a response was a very bad thing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His forced smile said the opposite.

With a hand on her stomach he pressed her back against the wall and lifted his gun as he approached the emergency door. The stance was sure, as if refined from years of law enforcement or security experience.

A flash of a memory hit her. The first time he held her hand, his strength surprised her. She now wondered if he’d ever spent a workday behind a desk.

As he reached for the doorknob, she felt a whoosh of air behind her. An elbow clamped around her throat, and the hard end of a gun pressed against her temple before she could cry out for help.

But she didn’t need to. Aaron had turned and now had his weapon trained on whoever held her.

The look of burning fury in his eyes turned them from green-blue to the deep, cold hue of the ocean. He didn’t look her in the eye. All his focus centered on the face hovering just out of her line of sight.

Her heart slammed hard enough inside her to hit the base of her throat. She would have fallen to the floor if the stranglehold on her hadn’t kept her upright. Between the roar of blood to her ears and the sudden buzzing in her head, she could barely hear.

“Let the lady go.” Aaron’s flat voice rang throughout the unfinished floor.

The man’s heavy breathing hit her cheek as he spoke. “This is not the time for you to be a hero.”

She totally disagreed and wanted to scream that fact, but she used all of her energy to stay still instead. Aaron had been playing the role of hero since he’d stormed into the bathroom to warn her. She would let him play it forever if he somehow got them out of this nightmare.

When she finally forced her body to breathe and her heart to pump in the nonstroke range, she picked up the sounds of the room. The uncovered lights hummed above her head, and the floor creaked beneath her feet as she shifted her weight.

“You know something?” Aaron slipped a second gun out of his jacket pocket and fixed that one on the attacker, too. “I’m getting tired of guys grabbing her.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“You’re number three and I’m about out of patience.”

The man’s hold tightened. “She’s coming with me.”

Risa grabbed on to the arm choking her, hoping to push him off, but the thick muscle didn’t give. The attacker tucked her body against his like a shield. She feared any bullet would travel through her before ever reaching him.

Even with Aaron’s skill and laserlike focus, he couldn’t make a bullet’s trajectory bend and sweep. This wasn’t a movie. This was real life, and the possibility of her bleeding out on the floor grew greater with each passing second.

Her attacker’s chest expanded against her back right before he spoke. “I have her, so you’re going to step back.”

“And I have a bullet just begging for you to move one inch closer to the edge of stupid.”

Fear had her teeth chattering and the blood pounding in her temples. “Aaron.”

“Yeah. Listen to the lady, Aaron.” The attacker gathered her even closer until his hair brushed against her cheek. “You’ve got her scared. I can feel her shaking, and it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Why do you want her?”

“I don’t care about her.”

Not the first time she’d heard those words. But she’d never faced dismissal at the end of a gun. Lied to, dumped? Yes. Threatened? Never in her life until the past few hours.

“So this is about money,” Aaron said, the disgust filling his voice.

“Isn’t everything?” The attacker motioned with his gun. “Move to the side.”

When Aaron obeyed, her heart dropped to her knees. They’d barely gone out, but she expected him to help … to do something before just handing her over. She tried to wrap her brain around what she thought she’d learned about him today and what was happening now. He’d rescued her in the bathroom. Abandoning her now without a fight made no sense.

“I need your gun on the floor. All of them. Even the ones I can’t see.” The attacker pivoted as he spoke, keeping her angled in front of him and between him and the potential exchange of fire.

Aaron’s knees bent and his hands started toward the floor. She wanted to shout and beg. She went for attack mode instead. A smart woman didn’t wait to be rescued.

She could kick out, maybe hit this guy at a vulnerable spot and give Aaron a minute to get off a shot. She’d just decided to launch when his furious gaze caught hers. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he had her mind spinning in confusion.

“That’s it.” Her attacker braced his legs apart as he spoke. “You do the right thing here, Aaron, and we all go home.”

“Except me.” She knew that truth as sure as she knew anything.

The man chuckled. “I’m afraid someone has plans for you.”

“Who?” Aaron asked.

“Put the weapons down.” All amusement was wiped clear of the man’s voice. He was back to waving the gun around and promising pain without ever saying it.

This time, Aaron didn’t stall his movements. One gun clicked against the floor. The second one almost touched and then Aaron whipped it back up and shot at the attacker’s legs. The weapon fired and the shot boomed through the room.

Risa closed her eyes waiting to feel the sting of a bullet or have the man drop behind her, but nothing happened. Her attacker didn’t even flinch.

He chose to break into a full-belly laugh. “You missed.”

Aaron fired again, but nothing happened after the initial crack of the weapon.

“Guess it’s my turn.” The attacker’s finger moved on the trigger.

She screamed for Aaron to duck as she shoved her elbow against her attacker’s midsection with all her strength. Every cell, every muscle. All of her weight centered on unbalancing the man before he could take them down.

Everything happened at the same time. Aaron dove for her legs as the door to the stairs slammed open. She could hear him telling her to drop on top of him as a man filled the doorway and came into the hallway firing.

One minute she stood locked against her attacker’s body even as she struggled to slip out of his grip. The next a huge weight fell from behind her, nearly taking her slamming to the floor with him.

Aaron tugged her down, then wrapped his arms around her waist and took her with him in a diving roll. Her body slid under his as the room passed by her in a blurry haze. Gunfire exploded and a light shattered somewhere behind her. By the time the room stopped spinning she’d heard a roar of fury and a thud.

When she opened her eyes again, the attacker lay a few feet ahead with blood trickling from his forehead. Shock rolled over her until all she could do was stare. Violence on television, where actors got hit, fell and the action cut to commercial, didn’t compare to the real-life version where people rolled around bleeding.

Seeing someone die right at her feet elicited horror, pain, anxiety. But as she sat there, the overwhelming reaction was shock. The tips of her fingers tingled as the last of the feelings left her body.

A man in a suit loomed above them. Twenty-something, blond and lethal. His gun stayed aimed and his frown locked on Aaron.

She was done being a victim. Done with rotten luck. Bad karma, or whatever had been kicking her around for the past year, could go find someone else to stalk. Starting now. She scrambled to sit up, reaching for one of the guns.

Aaron caught her in midlunge. “Whoa. This guy’s with us.”

The blond dropped his weapon to his side as the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “How the hell did you miss from that distance?”

“That’s just it. I didn’t.” The grumble in Aaron’s voice sounded huskier than usual.

“Okay, now I’m confused. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She knew that was the understatement of the century, but she said the words anyway.

Aaron sat up and studied the gun he’d used. “This is the one I picked up from the other attacker. It’s loaded with dummy cartridges.”

“What?” The blond reached down and grabbed it. “Why would that be?”

“I have no idea. It doesn’t make sense. Who tries to kidnap a woman using fake ammo?” Aaron stood up and with a light touch, brought her to her feet beside him. “Are you okay?”

She couldn’t believe her legs held her. The sudden softness in his voice did nothing to calm the nerves that began jumping around inside her. “Speaking as the almost-kidnapped victim, no.”

When she looked up, both men were staring at her.

The blond man’s attention soon shifted to Aaron. “Any idea why she’s the target?”

“Angie is.”

“That’s just as confusing. I’d think anyone who wanted Angie hurt is downstairs.” The blond turned back to Risa. “Were you hit?”

She inhaled several times, trying to ease the anxiety flowing through her. Much more unwanted excitement and she’d need a hospital and a vacation from a job she hadn’t had long enough to earn time off.

As oxygen returned to her lungs and blood fueled her brain, some of the more obvious pieces fell together. “I’m guessing you’re Royal?”

The big man smiled and held out his hand. “Yes, ma’am. Royal Jenkins.”

If he felt the tremors shaking through her, he was nice enough not to show it. “I’m Risa and thanks for arriving when you did.”

Royal nodded at Aaron. “He guided me in.”

“How?” She’d been in that room, heard everything and had no idea reinforcements hid on the stairs ready to pounce. She didn’t want to think about the years of life she’d lost thanks to unnecessary panic.

“I told him I was coming and then I waited and listened in.” Royal tapped on his ear. “He dropped clues.”

Aaron’s exhale was loud enough to drown out part of the conversation. His fingers slid under her elbow. “Risa, answer the question.”

The burst of anger surprised her. “Which one?”

His gaze roamed over her, not in a heated way. In a ready-to-tie-her-down-and-amputate-a-leg way if he had to. “Are you hurt?”

The answer for his sharp change in personality hit her hard enough to make her stumble. Concern. She’d doubted him for a second, but his determination to see her safe really had never wavered.

A trickle of guilt washed over her. “No, just stunned.”

“Getting yelled at probably isn’t helping,” Royal mumbled as he looked first to the left and then to the right, anywhere but at Aaron.

“At the moment, I’m more concerned with keeping her alive than sparing her feelings,” Aaron returned.

“Apparently.”

Male grumbling wasn’t making the tense situation any easier. She needed them both focused on finding an answer. “Can someone tell me why this keeps happening? Why does someone want Angie? Why do they think I’m her? I don’t get any of it.”

“I wish I knew an answer to even one of those questions.” Aaron shook his head as he turned to Royal. “What’s going on downstairs?”

“It was under control when I left, but then I saw your guy on the stairs and followed.”

Another lightbulb flickered to life in her brain. “Which is why you went silent when Aaron tried to reach you earlier. You didn’t want him to hear you.”

“Nice.” Royal drug out the word nice and long, using more syllables than there were letters in the word, as he nodded in obvious appreciation. “I like smart women.”

Aaron grabbed his gun off the floor. “Why do you think I’m dating her?”

Royal’s eyebrow kicked up. “You are?”

Risa struggled to hide her reaction. It took all of her concentration not to let her jaw drop. Ignoring the lightness dancing in her stomach at his words wasn’t easy, either. This wasn’t the place or the time, but … well, she wasn’t dead yet.

Rather than make some big declaration, Aaron shrugged.

Disappointment rolled through her. “That’s your answer to your friend’s question?”

“He’s my assistant,” Aaron corrected her. When she broke eye contact, he put a hand on her arm and drew her gaze back. “And admittedly this hasn’t been our best date, but the next one will be better.”

She stared at him for a second, not saying anything, just enjoying the idea of any future outside this room, away from this building. “Promise me it won’t happen at Elan and I’ll think about saying yes.”




Chapter Five


Lowell followed his son, Brandon, into the small room down the hall from the holiday party. The internal space didn’t have a window or any witnesses, which Lowell assumed was the point. Brandon always did have a sense of the dramatic.

Since arriving, Brandon had stood in the corner of the party room huddled with his mother. Together they’d nearly blended into the Christmas tree. They certainly hadn’t mingled or helped with any of the necessary social niceties of this type of event. Hell, getting them to even show up to present a united family front had taken a threat from him.

Never mind the pressure he was under. Never mind the threats against his life.

Lowell blamed his wife for the untenable situation. Despite all his efforts, she’d raised a spoiled and oversensitive heir who frequently ran low on common sense. She’d had one task in her entire adult life—parenting a son—and she’d blown it as she did everything else.

Oh, Lowell had tried to step in, but attempts to toughen Brandon up had backfired. An overpriced therapist and a coddling mother undermined every tiny shuffle forward. Which was why Brandon failed at everything he tried.

Wanting this part of the evening over so that he could concentrate on some more interesting entertainment, Lowell agreed to listen. He walked to the small conference room table in the center of the room and leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest. The stance said make it quick and Brandon had better comply.

“What is so important?” Lowell’s disinterested exhale skipped across the room.

“How could you bring her here?” Brandon’s blue eyes flashed with fire as his hands clenched and unclenched beside him.

So dramatic. “First, lower your voice. I am your father and I will have your respect. We both know I’ve earned it.”

“Mother left.”

Ah, yes. Sonya, the original drama queen. “When?”

“Do you even care?”

“She promised she would be here.” Not that Lowell minded at this point. She’d come in, posed for a photo and hadn’t caused a scene. These days that was as good as he could expect from Sonya. Probably meant she was overmedicating again.

Besides, with her gone he was not obligated to play the role of dutiful husband. That game wore thin fast, as did her crying jags.

“She got in the car five minutes ago. You didn’t even see her leave the room.” Brandon’s chest rose and fell on heavy breaths.

Much more of this and the boy would whip himself into a full-fledged rage. Lowell was not in the mood for the useless burst of emotion.

“She was humiliated. You set her up to be a joke.” Brandon took a step forward, actually looked as if he might lunge.

Lowell’s scowl stopped the attempt, but he suspected stopping the nonsense would take a bit longer. “I have expended a great deal of money on private school, tutors and college to teach you manners. You’ve had a DUI disappear. Your college trouble with a forged paper went away without you ever stepping in front of a disciplinary board.”

“I didn’t ask for any of that.”

“Now would be a good time to show some gratitude for all this family has done for you.” The need to lecture never stopped. Brandon was determined to tarnish the family name, and Lowell had grown weary of the childish outbursts.

“I am twenty-three.”

“Then stop acting like a petulant child.” Lowell glanced at his watch. The five minutes he’d allotted for this sideshow was almost over.

Brandon either missed the not-so-subtle message or ignored it. “You put your wife and your mistress in the same room.”

Heat raced through Lowell’s veins. “That’s enough.”

“She was fidgeting and couldn’t hold her head up.” Brandon took to the topic now. His face flushed and his hands flew through the air as he talked. “What did you think would happen? Everyone was whispering. It’s bad enough you do that behind Mom’s back, while you’re sleeping around at the office, but to have it thrown in her face—”

“I said enough.” The boy just kept pushing. All that festering disappointment at who Brandon had become rushed up, threatening to explode.

But Lowell refused to give Brandon that satisfaction. As a boy he’d tried to goad and inflame. Everything would settle down in Lowell’s life with Sonya, and then Brandon would create some new problem, cause some new conflict that had to be solved and send the family spinning again. Lowell was done feeding that particular monster.

“This is not your business, Brandon.”

“She’s my mother.”

“And my wife. I will deal with her. I am sure this was nothing more than the onset of one of her usual headaches.” Only his wife would view living with every luxury in a three-story museum of a house she decorated herself as some sort of prison.

“I told her to go home.”

The boy never stopped. “What is your game here, Brandon? Still running to Mommy when Daddy won’t let you get your way? I didn’t say yes to you last week, so you are using your mother and her weaknesses to your advantage.”

“I asked you for a simple job.” Brandon’s breathing had kicked up until every part of his body vibrated as he talked.

“And I told you no. I don’t engage in nepotism. I earned my way and you can, too. Frankly, it’s long past time you grew up.” Lowell was not going to relive this conversation. He’d made his decision. He took two steps toward the door in a silent declaration that the conversation had ended.

“That is why I asked for the job.”

He stopped and glanced at the young man he’d once hoped would followed him into the family business, and realized that dream had died long ago. “No, you asked because you’ve burned every other bridge. You lost your first job out of college because you were ignorant. I told you never to use your real name on the internet. You should have listened to me, but you didn’t. Well, Brandon, lesson learned.”

“I know the only one you like to help around here is Angie—”

“You will refer to her as Ms. Troutman and you will be respectful. She is a trusted member of my team.”

Brandon laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”

Behind the tough talk Lowell saw his son’s wariness. Realizing this was all false bravado stopped Lowell from kicking the kid out. “If you are trying to convince me you’re growing up, you are failing miserably.”

After a light knock, the door opened. Security chief Palmer Trask slipped inside, his eyes going between the two men. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Come in.” Lowell waved him in, more than happy to end the family discussion. “Brandon and I are done talking.”

Palmer nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Where have you been? And while you’re at it, explain why all the so-called security professionals to whom I pay huge fees can’t seem to be bothered to actually protect anything or anyone.”

“Sir, we have a problem.”

“I believe that was my point.”

Palmer cleared his voice. “There may be an issue that requires some delicacy.”

Since Brandon just stood there, Lowell decided the best recourse was to talk around him. “Pretend he’s not here and be more specific.”

Palmer linked his fingers behind his back and rocked back on his heels. “I haven’t seen McBain or his second-in-command in quite some time. They went upstairs to check on an issue and I’ve lost radio communication. He has a cell, but I can’t get through.”

From his dealings with McBain, Lowell knew the man took his job seriously. He wouldn’t leave his post without cause. “We need to check the conference center while the party continues.”

“Is that safe?” Brandon asked.

“This is all precaution. I’m sure everything is fine.” Lowell spared Brandon a glance before returning his attention to Palmer. “As quietly as possible, get Ms. Troutman and my finance man, Mark Fineman, and bring them in here. I’d like you to return and post two of your best men outside for extra protection.”

“Yes, sir.” Palmer threw a quick frown in Brandon’s direction, then left the room.

Realizing Brandon was in the mood to cause trouble and Angie was about to be in his line of fire, Lowell issued a new warning. “I expect you to be quiet and respectful as soon as our guests arrive.”

“I didn’t hear my name on the list of approved people who get to stay.”

“One more comment like that and you can fend for yourself outside like everyone else.”

AARON STARED AT THE SMALL screen of his cell. If willing the phone back into service worked, the lights would flash. Something. “I can’t get through. Since we’ve lost the comm network, we’re on our own up here.”

Royal blew out a long breath. “This is just getting better and better.”

They’d moved farther into the open room, over by the windows and away from the body on the floor. Risa had seen enough violence for a lifetime. And he was ready to go a few minutes without someone tackling him or trying to kill him.

“We can try using mine.” Risa patted her pockets. “Wait, I left my purse downstairs in the manager’s office. Well, of course it is. Why should anything go right today?”

“It wouldn’t work anyway,” Royal said. “Someone is jamming the signal. Nothing would get through.”

The “why” behind that action was the piece Aaron kept missing. The recent threats centered on Lowell. Angie had a bedroom connection to Lowell, but not a linear one. Grabbing a related woman when the true target stood just downstairs was the type of logic Aaron had trouble reasoning through.

But he had to figure out a workaround. He wasn’t one to sit and wait, working on the defensive. An offensive strike was the answer. “Here’s the bad news—”

Risa’s eyes grew huge. “We haven’t had the bad part yet?”

“Without the schematics, we depend on my memory of the layout of this place. I looked at a lot of paperwork and retained a great deal of it.” At least he hoped that was true.

Royal glanced at the ceiling. “If you say so.”

“I have to agree with Royal on this one.” Risa leaned back with her head balancing against the window and let her eyes slip shut. “Except for the part where you know how to throw that weapon around—”

“Excuse me?”

“I wish you actually were a lawyer. They have to memorize a lot of stuff in school. That skill set could help us here.”

Time for another shot of truth. Aaron wondered if he’d spent the next month unraveling the lies he’d told her. “I am.”

Her eyes popped open. “What?”

“A lawyer.” He scowled at Royal, trying to get him to at least pretend he wasn’t listening in. Some things should be private.

She looked at Aaron, at Royal and back again. “But that was a lie.”

Aaron slid next to her with his hands balanced behind him on the edge of the windowsill. The space between them contracted and his fingers touched hers. “Just the tax part. Lawyer, navy JAG, to be exact, and now security expert. But, since I pay my bar dues, still a lawyer.”

The words hung in the quiet until Royal snapped his fingers. “Uh, shouldn’t you know that?” he asked Risa. “I thought you two were dating.”

Her eyes sparkled when she answered, “Right now I feel lucky I even know his name. It is Aaron, right?”

The byplay had Royal grinning like an idiot. Aaron understood the goofy reaction. Something about the way she lost herself in a moment made that hard shell he’d fought so hard to build around him crumble. He’d seen it as she smiled over an email or described the perfect latte.

It was the reason he switched from talking with her over coffee to asking her out for dinner. Picking up random women over scones was not his usual style. He made an exception for her.

She leaned toward Royal and he met her halfway, as if sharing a big secret. “Your coworker—”

Aaron broke in. “Technically, I’m his boss.”

“—has a problem with dating honesty.”

“Now is not the time for this conversation.” There was a dead guy on the floor and two injured down the hall. All of this amusing talk could wait. Aaron turned to Royal. “To be clear, there will never be a time for you to join in the conversation about my dating life.”

Her fingers slid through his as her smile faded. “You’re right. We’re not going to talk about anything if we don’t get off this floor alive.”

He hated killing the lighter mood, but this was not the time to get lazy. Anyone could be waiting around the next corner. In fact, he would bet there was at least one more guy close by because he doubted these guys worked solo and they had an odd number down.

“Normally I would suggest we not exaggerate, but since three men have come after you in the span of a half hour, we need to assume you’re a potential victim here,” Aaron said.

“Gee, do you think?”

Royal held up a hand. “Except for the empty cartridges. That throws the whole scenario off.”

“Not all of them are empty.” Aaron hated to break the physical connection with Risa and regretted it the minute he lifted his hand. He slipped out one of the cartridges he’d emptied in the bathroom and chucked it to Royal. “These went with the first attacker’s other gun, the one he pointed at us. They sure seem real.”




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