Page 3 of Forbidden Access

“Oh, God,” came the expected reply. There was an urgency to her voice now. “Yes, of course. I’ll send them down.”

Thorn watched as Barbie hung up, then swung around to address the guards. She kept her voice low, but not low enough so Thorn couldn’t overhear. “Someone was seen tampering with Damian’s SUV. There’s a ticking sound coming from underneath. It could be a bomb.”

The guards dashed out.

Fools.

Barbie glanced at Damian’s door, as if she was trying to decide whether to inform him or not. Shit. That wasn’t part of the plan. She had to distract her.

Thorn rose from the couch. “Something wrong?”

“No. Well, actually yes, but I’m sure it’s a false alarm.” Her voice was shaky.

“I hope so.”

She took a step toward Barbie, prepared to restrain her if necessary, but at that moment, she said, “Excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom.”

And leave your boss alone, unguarded.

Perfect.

Barbie might be pretty, but she had shit for brains.

“Take your time.”

Thorn waited until she was out of the office, then followed, slipping something from her jacket pocket as she moved. Once Barbie was in the restroom, Thorn slid a small, triangular wedge under the door. She tested the handle—it wouldn’t budge. Satisfied that Barbie was locked in, she headed back to Clayton’s office.

Reaching under her skirt, Thorn drew her Glock, the cold steel familiar and reassuring in her hand. She paused at the CEO’s door, listening.

Silence. He was alone.

Slowly, she turned the handle and stepped inside.

“Good morning, Mr. Clayton.” Thorn closed the door behind her and locked it.

Clayton looked up from his desk, eyes landing on the gun. He jumped out of his chair. He was fit, toned, and in great physical shape. Not the desk-bound geek she’d expected.

Six-two, two hundred pounds of lean muscle.

Threat level: moderate.

“Where’s Christine?”

Interesting. His first thought was for his assistant, not his two security guards or even himself. Maybe there was something between them. Wouldn’t be the first time a CEO got involved with his P.A., and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. She didn’t care either way.

“Who are you?” His eyes were on the gun. No fear, just anger. That surprised her.

She raised the Glock. “I’m the woman who’s going to kill you.”

CHAPTER 2

She was expecting surprise, fear, even panic, but she got neither of those things. His expression darkened, and his eyes burned into her.

Surprised, she realized he was angry.

Why wasn’t he scared?

He should be. He was about to die—hypothetically speaking.

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