by Lexi Blake
Cathy waved and then turned before bumping into someone. “Oh, hello, Dr. Huisman. Did you need something?”
Becca groaned inwardly. She did not need a confrontation with Paul.
“Not at all,” Paul said, sounding more chipper than he usually did. “I was simply coming by to congratulate Dr. Walsh on the latest round of testing. I’ve heard it’s spectacular.”
Cathy grinned, her pride showing. “Oh, they’re spectacular. Expect our girl to bring in the cash next quarter. She’s going to shake up the medical world with this. Maybe we can convince her to travel a little, get out and show her face to the world. She needs to start networking if she’s going to win her first Nobel Prize before she’s thirty-five.”
“Whoa, let’s tap the breaks on that.” She didn’t need more pressure on her.
Paul looked amused as he leaned against her door. “Yes, let’s slow down. We have to get the drug and the therapies approved first. We’ve got a few hurdles before she takes over the world.”
Cathy shrugged. “She’ll do it. If you don’t need anything else, I’ll say good night.”
Paul nodded her way. “Good night.” He turned back to Becca. “I hate to do this to you, but can you stay another hour or so? Maybe two? There’s a courier bringing in some legal paperwork and they’ll only accept a signature from me or you. I would stay myself, but I need to pick up Emmanuel from school.”
“Of course.” It wasn’t like she hadn’t been planning on staying anyway. She glanced up at the clock. It was almost six. “I thought school let out earlier.”
She would have sworn there was a surprised look stamped on his handsome face, but it cleared quickly. “Emmanuel stays late to work with a tutor. He’s a brilliant child, but he struggles with focus. I’ve found having him complete his homework in a classroom environment helps.”
Sometimes she felt for poor Emmanuel Huisman. He didn’t talk much and when he did, he was awkward and seemed too focused for a child his age. Perhaps it was because his father pushed him to be far older than his years. She understood that. “No problem. Homework is important. I was staying late anyway. I have to get through all this data I want to present next week when your father is in town.”
He huffed, a sound somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Yes, well, I’m sure my father will be thrilled to see it. I’ll let security know you’re going to be here in your office.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Anything I should be worried about? You said it was legal paperwork.”
“Just some cleanup on staffing situations,” he replied with an odd smirk. “You know how my father likes to cover the foundation’s ass on all fronts. Feel free to look at it if you like, or you can ship it straight on to HR after signing for it. Good night. I hope it’s a fun evening for you.”
He slipped away before she could say anything else.
And she was left alone with her thoughts, and they weren’t all that good. She really did need to work on the report, but the numbers scrambled in front of her.
She should have told Owen what happened. She should have gone to the café at the bottom of the castle and sat with him and told him everything.
Or she should consider the fact that they’d only slept together a couple of times and she was putting a whole lot on him.
No. He cared about her. She felt it. They were together and that meant she couldn’t leave him out of important things. She expected him to let her know if he was in trouble because he had to know she would move heaven and earth to fix things for him.
She loved him.
A low groan came from the back of her throat, and she put her head down on her desk. It was stupid. It was everything she’d worried it would be. This was precisely why she’d tried to stay away from the man in the first place. She’d known she would fall for him and hard.
Owen Shaw was her damn knight in shining armor, and she was an idiot if she didn’t call him. He probably knew investigators who could handle this. She would pay him back in ridiculously kinky sex and give him all the love and affection he so obviously needed.
She sat up and felt better having made the decision.
She stood up. She needed a cup of coffee and then she would call Owen and ask if they could talk. Maybe she would ask him if he could come up here and sit and wait with her for the courier. Then they could pick up a six-pack and some takeout and talk about all this in bed.
That was what she truly needed, his arms around her. Once she talked this through with him, she would feel better. It had been a mistake to keep it from him.
The floor was quiet as she stepped out of her office. Across the way, she could see the sun starting to sink, the dying light shining off the buildings. The elevator doors opened and she hoped it was security escorting the courier up. If she could get out of here fast, she’d go to Owen’s work and surprise him.
Except she wasn’t sure where his building was.
A man strode out, his pace nearly a jog. “Dr. Walsh. Dr. Walsh, I need to talk to you.”
She froze where she stood because she knew that voice. It sent a chill down her spine. The last time she’d heard that voice had been when the man attached to it had threatened to rape and murder her.
Dr. Reasor. Except Dr. Steven Reasor had died. He died. It had been the only reason she’d felt safe.
“Hi, my name is Tucker and I’m an intern downstairs.” He strode her way and his hair was longer than it had been when he’d worked for McDonald, but there was no way to mistake those blue eyes. At first she’d thought he was handsome, but she’d seen how cold those eyes could go. Arctic. Like the coldest winter day.
He was dead. They’d told her he was dead. Dr. McDonald had told her. It had been an accident, and that had been the first time she’d been able to breathe.
He was coming for her. He was saying words, but all she could hear was the ones he’d said that day.
You really should run. Maybe I’ll catch you. Maybe I won’t. Either way, you should run.
She turned on her heels and took off toward the stairs.
It was pure panic, and it came from PTSD. It came from him turning into the nightmare she had for weeks afterward.
He’d promised if she ever got caught up in his world again, he would come after her. She’d believed him.
Don’t think about it. It hadn’t been real. It hadn’t been real. Couldn’t be real.
She ran, screaming out for help. Fear ruled her. It caused her to be irrational, made her see things that weren’t there. Probably.
It didn’t matter. She had to get to a place where she would be safe. She would call Owen. She would lock herself in a room and call Owen. He would come for her.
She just had to get somewhere safe.
He was shouting behind her, but she didn’t stop. She hit the door to the stairwell, her arms slamming into the metal with a hard thwack.
He was still behind her. She had to think. She had to know the building better than he did.
How long had he been here? How long had he been stalking her?
Would he take her back to that place she’d gone to? To that hell she’d convinced herself couldn’t possibly have been real?
Couldn’t go back. Couldn’t go back.
The door came open as she rounded the corner and saw a man with dark hair. He wore the uniforms the janitors wore. He was tall and broad, and in that moment, he looked like the best thing she’d ever seen.
“Please help me,” she said.
He frowned. “Of course. Are they already here?”
She stumbled coming off the last step and he caught her up in his big arms. “They?”
He set her on her feet. “Yes, the men who are coming for you.”
Confusion started to pierce through her fear.
“They’re not here yet,” that familiar voice said. “But you need to get hands on her because she’s running from me, Dante. I have no idea why, but she’s running from me.”
Steven Reasor was jogging down the stai
rs. And he was talking to the janitor.
She turned to try to get away, but the man he’d called Dante grabbed her. He pulled her close even as she fought. She brought her elbow up and back and then stomped on his foot. The man didn’t move, didn’t even grunt.
“Are you fucking serious?” Steven asked as he closed the distance between them. “Do you carry one of those around? Shouldn’t we talk to her first?”
Something sharp stung her neck and her vision immediately went fuzzy.
It was happening again. The devil was back and she was going to hell. She wouldn’t wake up this time.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said, looking down at her.
Someone had picked her up. Her legs didn’t work anymore. She wasn’t going without a fucking fight. She wasn’t going into that darkness without letting him know. Hate mingled with fear.
“Fuck you, Reasor. Fuck you.”
The last thing she saw were his eyes widening in what looked like shock.
As the darkness clouded her vision she prayed Owen would come for her.
Chapter Sixteen
Becca sat down at the table and stared at the mug in front of her.
“It’s not poisoned or anything,” her red-haired captor said. “It’s Earl Grey. It’s all they have. I’m afraid this place isn’t well stocked. It’s beautiful and remote, but not a lot in ye old pantry, hence the Earl Grey but without milk or sugar. Someone better go find that or we’ll have trouble later.”
Like she was going to touch anything these people gave her. “Not a problem. I can absolutely get that for you.”
“Tough girl,” the woman said with a nod. “I didn’t expect that.”
She’d woken up an hour before to find herself in some kind of prison. From what she could tell she was in a cabin, and they weren’t in the city anymore. It was dark outside. She hadn’t had the chance to run because the redhead had been there when she’d woken up. She’d been told to do whatever she’d needed to do in the bathroom and then come with the woman.
Now, here she was sitting at a folding table across from a woman she’d never met. A woman who had a gun in a shoulder holster. She wasn’t trying to hide the fact. That gun was there as a warning. Or maybe they believed in foreshadowing.
Becca forced the bile down her throat. Her hands were still shaking. “What kind of sedative did he give me?”
“The kind that works,” Red shot back, opening a file folder. “Sorry, I don’t know what Dante puts in those things. I’m a little worried that he carries them around. Have you had any problems with serial killers in the last couple of weeks?”
Becca simply stared.
“Too soon? Okay, let’s get down to it. My name is Erin and I’ll be your interrogator this evening.”
She was so not interested in sarcasm. “I’d like to see a badge.”
“I bet you would. We made damn sure you wouldn’t.” Erin sat back. “Would it surprise you to know that there’s a warrant out for your arrest? This is a copy of the legal paperwork that would have been shoved through court in order to quickly push your extradition to the States through.”
She looked down at the papers. They didn’t make a lick of sense. Why would she be arrested? And why would anyone want to extradite her? She wasn’t a lawyer, but it looked like she might need one. Lawyer Larry would come in handy now. “I’d like a lawyer. I don’t think I should say anything else until I talk to one.”
“I’m sure we’ll get you an attorney if it comes down to that,” she said. “Unfortunately, we’re in Canada and I don’t know a ton of people in Canada, so we’re going to have to work on it. Next time you get in trouble do it in Dallas. Or London. Or New York. Mostly any place but Canada.”
“Who are you?” It was obvious this woman wasn’t with the police.
“I told you. I’m Erin. I work with a group of former military and intelligence officers who investigate bad shit that happens. Sometimes we work with the Agency. Sometimes the Agency sucks and we find ourselves on opposite sides, like tonight.” She slid a photograph across the table. “Have you ever met this man?”
She shook her head, but not in response to the picture. She didn’t bother to look at it. “I want to leave this place. I want to make a phone call and have my boyfriend pick me up. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I want no part of it.”
“I’m sorry for the way we had to bring you in, but if we’d left you there, you would be in police custody right now. That warrant is real. We barely managed to get you out in time. There’s nothing on the news yet, but I imagine they’ll have to say something at the foundation tomorrow to cover up why you’re gone. I’m interested to see how they play that one, but we’ve had to pull our guys out so we’ll hear secondhand.”
“Your guys?” She was confused. More than confused. “Look, if you aren’t the cops, then I want out of here. I want my phone.”
“You’re not going to listen to me, are you? I told them it wouldn’t work and we would have to bring the big guns in, but do guys ever listen? Nope. Sometimes I think they’ll try anything besides a woman’s very reasonable suggestion just to try to prove me wrong.” Erin’s lips curled up. “Yeah, I bet you will, baby.”
That was when she realized Erin was wearing a small device in her left ear.
Someone was listening in. A cold chill went across her skin as she glanced around the room. The small room was sparse, with only the table and three chairs to decorate it. Except for the cameras mounted in either corner.
What the hell was going on?
Was Reasor somewhere in this cabin? Was he the one who’d decided to play this game with her? She hadn’t woken up the way she had the last time. Whatever he’d given her that night had produced the worst dreams of her life, dreams of never-ending pain and torture. She could still remember the day. Unless…
“How long was I out?” Could she trust anything this woman would say?
“A couple of hours.”
“What day is it?”
Erin frowned and managed to look slightly concerned. “It’s the same day, Dr. Walsh. It’s eleven o’clock on Friday. You didn’t lose a day.”
Then it had to have been a different sedative since the one Reasor had given her the first time had caused her to forget a whole day. One minute she’d been walking in the cafeteria and then…then she’d had her time in hell.
“All right. Let’s start with the basics,” Erin said. “Would you like to explain how a little over one million dollars was funneled from your research accounts at Huisman to your charitable organization?”
The bottom threatened to drop out of her stomach. “What?”
Erin flipped a folder around and pointed to what appeared to be copies of bank drafts and a report. She recognized the name. Phoebe Murdoch. Owen’s Phoebe. How had they gotten that report? Were they watching Owen, too? Had she gotten him involved in her problems?
“This is a report from a forensic accountant,” Erin explained. “She managed to track the funds from the account at Huisman to a Swiss account. Naturally we can’t know who owns that account, but I find it interesting that the money was then transferred from that account into the account your charity uses in the form of several large donations.”
She was going to be sick.
“Take a deep breath,” Erin said. “If you go, I’m sure to go, and I’ve done my vomit-time today.”
She barely managed to keep it down. “I didn’t take any money. I sure as hell wouldn’t take money from my research account. I need that money.”
“Everyone needs money.”
“I don’t. I have what I need. I don’t need to steal.”
Erin’s shoulders moved up and down in a negligent shrug. “As it so happens, I agree with your assessment. This is a setup. It’s been going on for over a year. Do you have any enemies?”
It was a harsh word, and not one she’d ever thought applied to her. “Enemies? Of course not. I’m a doctor.”
“Trust me, I’ve met a doctor who had enemies. I was her enemy. She’s not here anymore,” Erin said, an odd pleasure to her tone.
This was a dangerous woman. A predator. She was probably the kind of woman who worked with a man like Steven Reasor. “You work with him, don’t you?”
“I work for a couple of men,” she said. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Dr. Reasor.” She said his name, forced herself to say his name. “I assume he’s why I’m here.”
“The Dr. Reasor who worked with Dr. Hope McDonald?”
They were going to dance around the subject? “Yes. I saw him today. Is that why I’m here? He was supposed to be dead.”
“How did he die?” Erin asked.
Frustration threatened to well over. “He didn’t since he was in my building earlier today.”
“Who told you he died?”
She wasn’t playing this game. “I’m done. I want to make a call.”
“Who are you planning on calling?”
“My boyfriend. He’ll come get me.” She needed to see Owen. Tears pierced her eyes and she fought hard not to shed them.
“Are you sure about that? It might be better to leave him out of this,” Erin replied. “I’ve found that bringing men into a situation does nothing but complicate things.”
Becca stood up. “Fine. Shoot me, but I’m leaving. I’m not playing this game with you and I won’t let that man hurt me again. I won’t. Owen will look for me. He’s probably looking for me right now, and he’s smart and strong. He’ll figure out where I am, and then you should watch your back.”
A look crossed Erin’s face. It almost seemed like sympathy. “Things aren’t always as they seem, are they, Dr. Walsh? Remember that.”
The door opened and her heart threatened to stop. Owen was here. She didn’t even think about it. She threw her arms around him and sobbed. He was here. She was safe. He’d come for her and now he could figure this whole terrible situation out and they could go home.
It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t hugging her back. She clung to him and he was simply standing there, his arms at his sides.