Page 57 of Business or Pleasure

“As soon as possible.” I stood and set the glass on the desk.

“I’ll contact you with the specifics,” she said. “I’ve been thinking, it might be a good idea to invest in a private air service if we’ll be flying more often. We wouldn’t be subject to availability, and we’d always have the privacy to work.”

Even as rattled as I was, I caught her use of the words we and our own. She’d been invaluable to me this past month, especially since we’d been here, and I truly appreciated everything she did. None of that, however, changed the fact that she was my assistant. She worked for me – at my side, yes – but was still an employee. Not my partner. I didn’t have a partner.

Even though she seemed to be bidding on the job, regardless of the fact that the position didn’t exist.

“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement,” I said mildly. “Once you’ve completed the preparations for our return, the day is yours. If you have any places you wish to visit, shopping you wish to do, do so. Make any necessary adjustments to our baggage and have your things ready prior to our departure time.”

Once we’d arrived back home, if need be, I’d address her overfamiliarity. Resuming our normal lives should be enough. Brigh hadn’t been like this in Edinburgh, speaking of us and our. My hope was that, when we were there again, things would return to status quo.

I missed status quo.

“I don’t ken how long I’ll be,” I said as I walked toward the door. I held it open for her, the gesture meant to be both polite and dismissing at the same time.

Leaving her alone in my hotel room would send the exact opposite message of professional distance. I had at least enough presence of mind to understand that.

“I’ll make us dinner reservations,” she said with a smile. “Hotel restaurant? Or is there somewhere else you’d like to eat tonight?”

“I may eat with Alec.” I gestured for her to step into the hallway. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Ms. Flitton.”

I didn’t wait to see how she reacted to any of what I said but walked straight for the elevator instead. No more than forty-eight hours from now, I’d be on my way home. Everything would be all right once I had my feet back on Scottish soil. I could put all of this behind me and move forward, prove to my parents that what occurred with Angie was a solitary error that would not be repeated.

I’d had my fill of romance.

Twenty-Eight

Harlee

Franklin’s text was an address on Airport Way, so that was easy enough to find, but what I would do when I got there, I hadn’t quite worked out. Only a basic idea, but that was it. I would set my phone to record, and then try to get my father to tell everything. Get him to admit that he asked me to steal for him and I said no. Then, I would ask him who had actually stolen the papers for him. Why was that envelope pushed under my door? And why the hell was there a copy of that article?

Honestly, I would be satisfied with him just saying that I didn’t agree to help him. If nothing else, it should be enough to make Alec – Mr. McCrae – consider that I might be innocent. I was sure, if he just gave me the benefit of the doubt, there’d be actual evidence to show I hadn’t done it. The security at MIRI was tight, and there had to be proof that I hadn’t accessed or printed those files. All I needed was something that would compel Mr. McCrae to look for the truth.

I frowned as I saw the building the address had taken me to, but I didn’t hesitate to pull into the cracked and neglected parking lot. It looked like a factory or warehouse, but I couldn’t tell exactly. It was run-down, and I assumed, empty. Parts had been graffitied, and the two windows I could see were cracked. Branches and other debris were on the roof and in the parking lot. I could see the back end of a car parked behind the building but couldn’t tell if it was abandoned. Not that I knew what type of car Franklin drove, anyway.

If circumstances had been different, I wouldn’t have even considered going inside, but I had no other idea how to get what I needed. I spent a lot of my life taking care of myself, going places alone even when they weren’t entirely safe, but this was one of the few times I actually felt alone.

“Suck it up.” I spoke the words out loud, as if that would make it any easier to go in by myself. After a moment’s hesitation, I reached over and opened the glove compartment, rummaging through the random junk until I found what I was looking for.

A knife.

I never liked guns, but my mom drilled it into my head for years that, whenever I was out on my own, I needed to have something to protect myself. We always both carried pepper spray, even when I was as young as eight or nine and Mom liked having a taser. I had one of those at home, but what I kept in my glove box was a knife. One with the special thing on the end to break windows and a thing specifically to cut seatbelts. It also had a three-inch blade that I kept razor sharp.

I didn’t think Franklin would hurt me, despite the threats, but I hadn’t exactly been the best judge of character lately.

I tucked the knife into the pocket of my shorts, set my phone to record, and then got out of the car. I thought about locking the door since I was leaving my purse behind, but considering how isolated this place was, I decided I preferred the risk of having my purse stolen rather than making it more difficult for me to get into the car in a hurry if I needed to. Besides, it wasn’t like I had a lot worth taking.

I put on my best poker face and headed for the only door I could see. The doorknob didn’t turn at first, and I had a moment to wonder if I’d come out here only to end up locked out, but then it gave. The hinges screeched loud enough that I was glad I wasn’t counting on the element of surprise, and once inside, since I already made my presence known, I let the door slam shut behind me.

The only light came from windows in the two walls I hadn’t been able to see from where I’d parked, and with the usual Seattle cloud cover, the space was dim enough that my eyes needed a moment to adjust. By the time they did, it was too late to do anything different.

I’d missed something, and I could only hope that it wouldn’t get me killed.

Franklin wasn’t the only person here. A skinny guy with salt-and-pepper hair and a face that reminded me of Voldemort took a step toward me with a smarmy smile that made me want to give him a good kick to the balls. Behind him were three massive men who looked like they should be on warning posters about the negative effects of steroids. All three had guns.

As for my father, he was sitting on a chair between two of the men, his hands behind his back. Even though it should have been obvious from the first, I didn’t get that he was in trouble until my brain registered that he wasn’t wearing a red shirt. He was bleeding. That was when I realized his face didn’t look strange because of the shadows. He was a mess.

“Run.” The word came out in a hoarse whisper.

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