Page 4 of Forbidden Access

“Who are you, and what have you done with my men?” he demanded, in a deep growl. Thorn admired his stance—feet apart, leaning slightly forward, hands planted on his desk. It was the stance of a man used to control, a man who wasn’t ready to accept his fate. He was a fighter. That was good. He’d need to be.

“Your men are busy investigating a fake car bomb in the parking garage.” He winced, realizing how easily she’d outsmarted them. “And your assistant is locked in the restroom. I’m afraid help’s not coming.”

His eyes flicked to the gun again, then back to her, sizing her up. It wasn’t a look of appreciation, he was calculating whether he could take her down without getting shot.

“Don’t try it,” she warned.

The words hit home, and he sank back into his chair. She didn’t believe for a second that he’d given up. He knew this round was lost, but he was already planning his next move. Smart guy.

“What do you want?” he asked, studying her.

Thorn smiled, genuinely this time. The game was over. She’d made her point. She lowered the pistol and gestured to the chair opposite him. “Mind if I sit?”

He nodded, but his eyes stayed locked on her face. Grayish blue, like the sea on a stormy day. The chair she took was lower than his—maybe by design. A confidence booster for him, a subtle way to make those on the other side feel smaller, more intimidated. The Agency used the same tactic in interrogation rooms.

“Sorry for the subterfuge, Mr. Clayton.” She placed the gun on her lap. Now came the hard sell. Not her favorite part, but one she’d perfected in the field. Persuasion—an essential skill in undercover work. “My name’s Rose Wilde, and I work for Blackthorn Security.”

She gave him her real name, though most people called her Thorn. The nickname had started as a joke at the training academy because she could be prickly when rubbed the wrong way, and it had stuck. She didn’t make friends easily, but the ones she did were for life.

Recognition mixed with relief flickered in his eyes. Some of the anger dissipated. “You took out my men, distracted my assistant, and broke into my office to prove how vulnerable I am? Is that it?”

He was a quick study.

She spread her arms. “Pretty much. If I wanted you dead, you’d be cold by now.”

He clapped slowly, three times.

“Very impressive. So, this is the part where you tell me I should sign the private security contract with your firm?”

“I’d say your life depends on it, wouldn’t you?” Pat had pitched it to him last week after an FBI contact introduced them, but Clayton had turned him down, saying he had his own men. Thanks, but no thanks.

At that moment, the door handle rattled, followed by an urgent knock. A male voice called out, “Mr. Clayton? Are you all right?”

Clayton stood up. “Just a moment.”

Thorn nodded, watching as he crossed the office with long, confident strides. He unlocked the door. One of the security guards stood there, holding an alarm clock.

“I’m fine, thank you, Stephen. I see you’ve found the bomb?”

Stephen flushed.

“Could you please let Christine out of the restroom?”

He blinked. “The restroom?”

“Yes, I believe she’s locked in.”

“Uh, yes sir,” came the bewildered response.

Clayton closed the door but didn’t lock it. “So, Miss Wilde, what exactly are you offering?”

Thorn took a breath. “A close-protection team of four of our best operatives, all ex-U.S. military, highly trained for this kind of threat. Plus, a private bodyguard who won’t leave your side until the conference is over.”

He looked skeptical. “I’m a private person. The idea of someone glued to my side 24/7 doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Neither does being dead, I’d imagine.”

He tilted his head. “Touché. And who would be my personal bodyguard? You?” His stormy eyes studied her with an intensity that was unsettling.

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