Page 26 of Not This Soon

Rachel took in each detail: a golden pen lying alone on an otherwise empty blotter; a half-empty tumbler bearing marks of quick evaporation; a cigar still smoldering in a crystal ashtray, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards before dissipating into the stale air.

"Looks like we just missed him," Rachel stated, disappointment tightening her features.

She picked up the cigar, still warm to touch. He definitely had been here and not too long ago. She turned sharply at a soft rustling sound behind her.

Her gaze landed on what she'd initially taken for a closet door, but the opaque glass panel told her otherwise. Her heart pounded in her chest; she and Ethan exchanged glances before he gave a slight nod of approval.

She crossed the room and pressed her ear against the door. Inside, she could hear a low hum – probably from some kind of appliance. She tried the door handle, and to her surprise, it turned easily in her hand. She pushed the door open.

Inside was a small, windowless room. The single fluorescent tube light on the ceiling bathed everything in a sickly yellow hue. Its source was a sleek, modern server rack that dominated the majority of the room’s limited space.

And then she spotted the two figures.

"Hey!" she shouted suddenly, eyes widening as she realized what she was staring at. "Hey! Drop it! Drop it now!"

CHAPTER SEVEN

Her voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a knife. “Drop the gun! Now!”

She took in the scene before her, eyes widening in horror. Briefly, she thought she recognized thesecondman kneeling and crying on the floor. She’d gone through the company roster on the drive over, and judging by his balding head and oversized horn-rimmed glasses, she recognized the man as Earl Patterson, the company’s head of IT.

But her focus was drawn to the man standing over him, a towering figure in an expensive suit, his face obscured by shadows. His pressed white shirt stood out harshly against the dim lighting of the server room. But it wasn't his well-tailored suit that caught her attention – it was the glint of cold steel in his hand. A gun pressed against Earl's quivering forehead.

“Drop the gun!” Rachel repeated, aiming her weapon at the man.

Slowly, he turned towards her, his face coming into view as he did so. He was older than she’d imagined – late fifties, maybe. His sharp eyes were ice-cold and piercing, framed by salt-and-pepper brows that were drawn together in irritation at being interrupted.

Elias Grant stood with one hand gripping Earl's shoulder, the other pressing the muzzle of a gun to the man's forehead. Earl's face was ashen, his eyes wide with terror.

For a moment, neither man moved. Then, slowly, Elias turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. His expression was one of mild irritation rather than surprise or fear.

"I said drop it!" Rachel repeated, her own weapon now trained on Elias's back. "And step away from him!"

Elias's lip curled into a sneer. The tall man, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, brushed his dark hair back, revealing a face that might have been handsome if not for the coldness in his eyes.

"And who might you be?"

Rachel's finger tightened on the trigger. "Texas Ranger. Now, I won't ask again. Drop. The. Gun."

For a long moment, Elias simply stared at her, as if weighing his options. Then, with a sigh of frustration, he lowered the gun and released his grip on Earl's shoulder.

Earl immediately stumbled away, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He looked like he might collapse at any moment.

Rachel kept her gun trained on Elias as she stepped further into the room, her eyes never leaving his face. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, despite his outwardly calm demeanor.

This man was dangerous. Every instinct in her body screamed it.

As Elias straightened, he smoothed a hand down the front of his suit, drawing Rachel's attention to the gleaming cufflinks at his wrists. They were expensive, she noted, just like everything else about him. From the perfectly polished shoes to the rolex watch on his wrist, this man exuded wealth and power.

It was a stark contrast to Earl, who was now huddled against the far wall, his clothes rumpled and his face pale. He looked like a man who had just stared death in the face.

“Gun!” she snapped again.

Elias finally placed the weapon on the ground, nudging it towards her with his polished shoe. Elias's mouth twitched, but he didn't speak. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, the picture of nonchalance.

Rachel wasn't fooled. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darted towards the door. He was like a coiled snake, ready to strike at any moment.

She took a step closer, her gun still trained on his chest. "Why don't you start by telling me what the hell is going on here?"

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