Page 62 of Dark Secrets

Pushing to his feet, he kicked the man in the stomach once, twice, three times, and the pitiful whimpers that drifted up from the ground were like music to his ears. There was a time to gather information and a time to employ brute force. Christ, he missed using his fists to find the details he wanted.

“You sure that bitch is worth all this?”

“I’m sure.” The man coughed. “If this is what you’re willing to do to me, I can only imagine what you’d do to her if you actually found her.”

He was down, gripping the man’s throat in an instant. “So youwereholding out on me.” He squeezed until the man gasped. “You ready to die to keep her secret? She’s not worth the sacrifice.”

“Go to hell.”

He squeezed harder, enjoying the way the man’s lips and then his nose and then his whole face turned blue. “How about I kill you and root around in your little shithole of a bar and find the information I want myself? Then you’ll be dead, and she’ll be mine. A win-win for me.”

The man rolled onto his stomach and tried to push to his feet, but he shoved him back down with a boot. Bracing his gloved hands on the Jeep for leverage, he rammed his foot into whatever body parts he could make contact with. He listened to the sounds of wheezing pleas and grunted protests and cracking bones, kicking long after the man stopped moving.

Out of breath and aware he couldn’t linger too much longer if he didn’t want to get caught, he crouched down next to the man and patted his pockets until he found a set of keys. Dragging the body out of the yellow beam of light and wiping the blood off his boots in the snow, he jogged across the parking lot and tried the different keys until he found the right one.

Not wanting to draw attention to the place, he let the dim security lights lead him to a door marked Office Staff Only and tried more keys until it finally swung in. It was tidy, a desk pushed up against the far wall with three tall file cabinets lined up in the opposite corner.

He closed the door behind him and turned on the light. He’d left the guy bleeding, if not dead, at the edge of the parking lot, so he prayed this guy didn’t have hundreds of employee records in these damn cabinets. They were unlocked, a blessing, and he slid open the top drawer of the one closest to the desk.

Old menus and coupons and other useless crap. The next three drawers in this cabinet held more of the same. The second cabinet looked like financials. Purchase orders, receipts, tax shit. He didn’t have time to comb through W-2s. He needed employee files.

In the bottom drawer of the third cabinet, he struck gold. File folders neatly arranged in alphabetical order with employee names written in bold Sharpie. He pulled the first one all the way out and flipped it open. Right on top was a photocopy of their driver’s license. A slow grin spread over his face. Fucking bingo.

Slipping the folder back into the drawer, he quickly leafed through the rest. He grew more irritated by the second until he found her near the very back. He pulled the folder from the drawer and laid it open.

A Nebraska driver’s license. Clever bitch. These weren’t just fakes; they were good fakes, expensive ones, and with forgeries like these, there was no way she was working under a different name in every state.

He had her now. As soon as he had visual confirmation, he’d call his client. Or maybe he’d take a few days and play out some of the fantasies he’d spun in his mind on these long, lonely nights on the road. Then his irritating prick of a client could have her.

Tucking the folder under his arm, he switched off the light and locked the office door behind him. He backtracked down the long hallway to the rear door and poked his head out to make sure the parking lot was still empty.

Seeing no one, he jogged quickly back to the Jeep and shoved the keys back in the guy’s pockets. Definitely dead. Served him right for getting in the way.

Now that he had what he came for, he needed to get the fuck out of here. The lot didn’t have cameras, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hang around and wait for someone to spot him a few dozen yards from a dead body. Climbing into his truck, he drove slowly onto the street and around the corner.

He wanted to get as far away from Ann Arbor as possible before he was forced to stop and sleep. Pulling into a rundown gas station, he bought maps for both Illinois and Ohio and some shitty coffee before filling up at the pump.

Tank full and burned coffee scorching his insides, he reached for the file folder on the seat and flipped it open to her picture. She’d changed her hair, and her smile wasn’t as bright or as innocent as the ones he had of her. But she was as beautiful as ever. He traced a finger over the outline of her cheek.

“I’ll see you soon, Delaney Williams.”

ChapterTwenty-Seven

The bar was busy for a weeknight but not crowded, and James kept her hand firmly in his as they wound past groups of people already flinging axes at walls. Delaney smiled when he helped her out of her jacket. It wasn’t a gesture she was unfamiliar with, but she knew he wasn’t being kind with the expectation of repayment.

“Can I get you guys something to eat or drink?” The waiter had short, spiky blond hair and a thick black choker necklace that seemed at odds with his red and black plaid shirt.

James gestured for Delaney to order first while he hung their jackets on a peg. Another refreshing thing about him. He didn’t insist on ordering for her.

“I’ll have a rum and Coke, please.”

“I’ll take your winter lager.”

“Tap or bottle?” The kid sounded bored.

“Bottle. Want anything to eat?” James shot a look at Delaney. She chewed on her bottom lip. “Anything you want,” he added, reading her hesitation.

“Cheese fries?”

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