by Ava Gray
Right now, she could only proceed to her car. Mia walked to the Focus and got in, trying to look unconcerned. The drive gave her time to think.
If she hadn’t been so startled to see him, she might’ve played this differently. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to recognize him, which was odd, given that he looked the same. He hadn’t even changed the cut of his hair, so his surprise made no sense. It hadn’t been long enough for her to forget either.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She remembered everything all too clearly, and that was part of the problem.
She recalled sitting with him in that diner, listening to his reassurances that he’d make sure no harm came to Kyra. She recalled her fear when she realized someone was tailing her. So she’d come to him, expecting him to protect her.
Instead, he gave her to his boss and used her as bait. Twenty-four hours in a dark house with nothing but tepid tap water. Her shoulders ached with remembered agony. If Kyra and Reyes hadn’t come for her, there was no telling what might have happened.
She hated feeling powerless; she hated feeling stupid. That day, she had nearly choked on both sensations. Foster was responsible for the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and she wanted him to suffer for it. Maybe it wasn’t prudent, but she’d dig up the dirt on him, as well as locate the embezzler; she’d always been better than average at multitasking.
Those dark thoughts occupied her until she reached the turnoff to her borrowed condo. She parked in her assigned space and went in through the front door. “Hi, Peaches, I’m home.”
It was a bit unusual to have something waiting for her, even if it was someone else’s pet. The cat had apparently decided she was better than nothing because it twined around her ankles, leaving ginger fur on her pristine black slacks. Mia leaned down and gave it a tentative scratch; the animal rewarded her with a motorboat of a purr.
“What do you think?” she asked it. “Can we make this work?”
It led the way into the kitchen, where she refilled its food dish. Mia took that as an affirmative, as long as she remembered her place. She wandered through the condo, examining bits of the Caldwells’ lives. Generally she stayed in furnished units, devoid of any personal touches, so she wasn’t used to framed photographs and mementos of a full life surrounding her.
They’d even left the food in their cupboards for her to use. Mia rummaged and came up with a can of soup. Any other night, she’d have ordered in, but she felt oddly off center. There were no menus in a drawer by the phone. This was somebody’s home. It was weird, but she felt like something was wrong and she couldn’t put her finger on what.
Banishing the slight melancholy the word roused in her, she ate her food at the tiny kitchen table and then went to the bedroom to change. She was staying in the guest room, less personal than the master bedroom. A shower made her feel a little better, and by the time she changed into her pajamas, she’d shrugged off the odd mood.
Mia gathered her notes from the day’s work and went over them in front of the TV. For obvious reasons, she didn’t use her laptop to log her findings. That information could be accessed remotely, so she used a notepad. Low-tech, yes, but after factoring in her personal shorthand, it meant nobody but her would be reading what she wrote down.
Thus far, there wasn’t much to see, just a list of people who worked in Accounting. Mia wasn’t convinced the guilty party even worked there; it just made sense to try to lay the blame there, as those employees had access to certain accounts. That meant she had a lot of ground to cover and only eighty-nine days in which to do so.
Time wasn’t usually a factor. Under normal circumstances, she came in as a contractor. Pretending to be a regular new hire at this company brought its share of limitations because she couldn’t move as freely.
For example, she’d undergone orientation today with a pregnant HR rep, so she’d lost several hours. It wasn’t like she could say, Sorry, I won’t be here long enough for your policies to matter. She couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself.
To further complicate matters, her boss in IT also seemed to think she was bucking for his job, another unwanted complication. They’d made her résumé a bit too impressive, and now he worried that once she was trained, he’d be let go. Based on what she’d seen of his work in just one day, if she were really who they said, then he’d have reason to fear. As it stood, Greg Evans was just an annoyance she didn’t need.
She needed to find some way to reassure him or he’d make her life difficult. Maybe I can appeal to him as a fellow slacker . . . show him appearances can be deceiving. Once I’ve established a rapport with him, he’ll be more likely to respond to my questions. Mia knew well enough that if she handled him skillfully, he’d tell her damn near everything she wanted to know without even realizing he’d been pumped for information.
The cat butted her hand, and she stroked him reflexively. “I guess we’d better get used to each other, huh? Do you snore?”
Peaches stared at her out of supercilious green eyes that said, So what if I do?
Mia had to smile at that. She put aside her notes and started her nightly before-bed ritual, which included skin care and ended in a cup of apple cinnamon tea. At this hour, she should have been asleep, but Kyra had promised to call, and she’d never let Mia down. Not once. In her darkest hour, Kyra had shown up to make things right.
As if in answer to her thoughts, the phone rang. No number came up, but she knew who it was. When she answered, she could hear a party in the background, raucous music underscored with bongo drums.
“Kyra?” She pitched her voice loud in the quiet condo.
“The one and only. How are you?”
“Good. Just started a new job. You?”
“Great.” Kyra sounded like she meant it in ways Mia could only guess at.
She experienced a pang that she refused to call jealousy. After everything Kyra had gone through in the last two years, she deserved to be happy. “Where are you?”
“Bali, I think.” Her voice became indistinct, as if she’d turned away to ask someone. A gravelly rumble came in answer, nearly close enough for Mia to make out the words.
She imagined the man nuzzling Kyra’s neck, whispering at her to get off the phone already, so they could drink or dance or do whatever they did on a beach with music pounding like waves on the shore.
“Yes,” Kyra said at length. “Bali. You?”
“Virginia. I’ll let you go. It’s late here. I can’t imagine what time it is there.”
“Afternoon. It’s soooo gorgeous. You can’t imagine—” Kyra broke off with a husky laugh.
No, Mia couldn’t. Her life suddenly seemed colorless. She didn’t want to envy her friend because she had the life Mia had wanted, one with structure and rules and tangible signs of success. Nobody would ever ask her to sail off into the sunset.
“We’re heading for Singapore next. I’ll call you this time next month. Love you.”
“You, too,” Mia said, but Kyra had already disconnected. Mia had exactly what she wanted. It had taken years to achieve. So why wasn’t she happier about it?
Strong’s day did not begin well.
Because he’d been up late, pondering the problem Mia Sauter presented, he overslept. That meant hurrying his morning routine, and he hated when things didn’t go according to plan. There was a reason his schemes always succeeded: his relentless ability to make circumstances fit his expectations. He’d been doing it for years.
So cold coffee and burned toast pissed him off. They seemed symptomatic of Mia’s overall effect on his life. She shouldn’t be here.
But since she was, he could make use of her. It might even be for the best.
By refusing himself in Vegas, he’d enjoyed a rare sense of human decency. Clearly that was alien—and definitely not his style—so he might as well enjoy her now, since the universe had dumped her in his lap a second time. He didn’t like using his ability this way, but once he touched her, she’d for
get all about that petty vendetta against him.
He would disappear, of course. In his place, she’d see whomever she loved best or wanted most. By now he ought to be used to it, but the prospect still gave him an unpleasant jab. He’d liked seeing his own reflection in her eyes, even if she hated him. By the time he reached Micor, he’d resolved the conflict in his mind.
He’d done this a hundred times. The routine was comforting, even as it strangled him. Glenna greeted him with a query about how he’d slept and a cup of coffee, prepared exactly as he liked it. There were two reps in HR who reported to him, but he didn’t interfere with them much, which made him a great boss in their eyes.
Today, as if his decision to betray Mia a second time was a good omen, inspiration struck. “Todd could use your help, Glenna. He’s doing six-month evaluations, and I’m sure he would value your insights. Do you mind?”
The admin assistant beamed. “How did you know I’ve always wanted to get a little more hands-on with the HR side of things?”
She had? Good to know. This might serve to keep her off his back. “Well, Mary will be taking her maternity leave in a month. Maybe I ought to look into a temp to replace you at the desk and see how you do as a rep.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you mean it?”
“Absolutely. You’ve been with this company longer than half the people here. And you’ve been running HR since before I got here, as I understand it.”
Nobody had ever said that to him, but he figured it was true. And even if it wasn’t, she’d enjoy hearing it. He knew a great deal about manipulating people.
“You’re too much,” she said, beaming. “I’ll just report to Todd, shall I?”
Todd was a lazy ass, who would dump the evaluations on Glenna if it had been cleared by the boss. He’d then spend his time cruising the Internet, and she would do his work for him in addition to her own. That ought to keep her too busy to wonder where Mr. Strong was or what he was doing.
To keep up appearances, he went into his office and checked e-mail long enough for Glenna to settle into her new task. He knew what would follow, and shortly thereafter, Todd popped into his doorway. “Thanks for the help, Mr. Strong. I guess you knew I was swamped, huh?”
“I remembered that you’re handling the evaluations by yourself.”
“Right. I was afraid Mary would get all the help since she’s pregnant and all, but I should’ve known you’d have my back.”
Why? He wanted to ask. Because we’re both Caucasian and male? Todd epitomized everything Strong despised.
“Not a problem,” he said. “I trust you’ll remember this down the line if I need something from you.”
The smile slipped from Todd’s face. He registered that he was on precarious ground, but he didn’t understand how he’d gotten there. “Sure. Sir. I’ll get back to work.”
“You do that.”
He gave it five minutes more, and then he slipped out of HR. He headed to IT, which was, as one might expect, a plain gray room full of cubicles and computer equipment. Curiously, only half the desks were occupied, including the one where Mia sat.
“I’ve got you on my schedule to talk about your 401(k),” he said with a friendly smile. “It’s all right. You must’ve forgotten.”
Her dark eyes shot daggers at him as she rose. “I must have. You could have e-mailed me a reminder.”
They both knew she wouldn’t have come.
“Oh, I like meeting all our new hires personally.”
She clenched her jaw but followed him out into the hall before she brought up a balled fist as if she’d like to sock him in the nose. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you think you can get away with—”
“Shut up and follow me.” The departments were all bugged; in the halls there were cameras instead. He could dispense with the pretense out here, as long as he appeared to be playing his part.
He had no doubt she’d like to kill him. Her glare practically blazed a hole in his back as they went back to HR. Instead of sitting down, he shut the door behind them and then leaned against his desk. If she remained standing, too, she would look nervous, like a child called before the headmaster. If she sat, the height difference would offer him the apparent advantage and authority. He could see the exact moment she worked it out.
She surprised him by taking up a stance on the other end of his desk, propping a hip as if she owned the place. Well, well. Mia knew a thing or two about body language, too. He supposed it made sense, given her line of work.
They could talk freely in here. Strong routinely disabled the listening devices in his office in ways that made it look as though the wiring had come loose through the rough treatment of janitorial staff. He made a game of it, in fact.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“You threatened me yesterday,” he said silkily. “That wasn’t smart. You tipped your hand, and now I know you’re a danger to me. What are we going to do about it?”
She took a step forward, stupidly putting herself within arm’s reach. “I already told you. Now you have no excuse when I take you down. I wanted you to see me coming and realize you can’t do anything to stop it. Now if you’re done wasting my time, I have work to do.”
Dispassionately, Strong considered the obvious solution. He should kill her. At this point, he had done so many dark deeds that one more would scarcely matter. If he did, it wouldn’t be here. He would arrange for her vehicle to fail on a deserted stretch of road, and then things would end quietly for Mia Sauter, with a garrote.
Her body would disappear for good in the Monongahela National Forest. If they ever found her, wild animals and the elements would have taken care of any trace evidence. Strong knew how to get away with murder.
In the beginning, he had not been so methodical. He’d killed the first two targets, just simple murder, before he became more exacting in his drive for revenge. In the end, death didn’t seem like enough to answer for what had been done to him and, by extension, Lexie. He wanted his enemies to suffer, so his plans became more . . . elaborate.
She seemed belatedly to register the darkness in him. Some people never saw it at all, or didn’t see it until it was too late. Mia took a step back, but she was too slow. He curled his fingers around her forearm and drew her in.
“Let go of me.” Her voice shook slightly, belying her bravado.
So she had sense enough to fear him. He wished that didn’t make him feel sick. But overall, it was for the best. She wouldn’t remember her fright long.
“I don’t think so,” he whispered. “Remember how you wanted me to kiss you, Mia? You practically begged for it.”
“That’s a lie.” She turned her face away, probably hoping he wouldn’t realize she was lying now.
He trailed his fingertips down her cheek, bracing for the horror of seeing her eyes go fuzzy. “Don’t worry, princess. I’m about to give you exactly what you want.”
CHAPTER 3
Mia felt oddly transfixed.
There was violence in his eyes, but his fingers were gentle. The world seemed to slip sideways, and when his mouth touched hers, the world detached completely. Something else swam up to fill the gap in her reality.
Lights twinkled overhead. Silk flowers twined around the white columns, giving the gym a tropical air. A photographer at one end took pictures of couples standing inside a fairy-tale gazebo. Edwin McCain crooned the first lines of “I’ll Be.”
She wore a red dress. Her mother had said they couldn’t afford it, but she must’ve changed her mind. Tense with nerves, Mia glanced around at the other couples dancing. Girls like her didn’t get asked to dances. She didn’t belong here, and she just knew something bad was going to happen.
Instead, Jared Kennedy came toward her with two glasses of punch. He wore a shy, uncertain smile, and it faded when he got a good look at her. “You said you were thirsty . . .”
“I am,” she said, suddenly breathless.
Her hand trembled as she r
eached for the glass. Luckily, it didn’t matter if she sloshed some on her dress. The fruit punch and the vibrant satin would be close enough in color that nobody would notice in the shifting light. She made herself sip, ladylike, while gazing up at him.
Dressed in a black tux, he was every bit as handsome as she’d dreamed all those afternoons in AP English. She doubted the popular cheerleader types would agree; he was tall and slim, refined rather than muscular. His face held an artistic sensitivity, reflected in the poems he sometimes read in class. She’d often wondered what he thought about, whether his musings were as deep as she believed.
“Would you like to dance?” He looked no more sure of himself than she felt, which put her at ease.
She simply nodded, and he led her out into the crush of swaying bodies. At first his hold was light, almost tentative, and then he gathered her close as she’d imagined so many times. They danced through songs by the Backstreet Boys and 98 Degrees. Bliss soaked in through her skin. She’d never thought she could be so happy.
The chaperones weren’t paying very close attention, so Jared maneuvered them into a part of the gym where the shadows fell thick. He didn’t ask permission; he could see by the upturned angle of her face how much she wanted the kiss. His lips were warm and soft, full of innocence and desire, and happiness surged through her like an electrical storm. Her arms wound about his neck, and she pressed close, rousing a shiver from him.
His lips toyed with hers, delicate and expert. She never would’ve imagined Jared could kiss like this, sensual but commanding. His tongue teased into her mouth, making her ache. She kissed him back, hungry for more of the sweet tension coiling through her.
Teeth grazed her lower lip, unabashedly demanding. She gave him more, undulating against him. They’d stopped dancing. The music had quieted, too, but she didn’t open her eyes. She was afraid everyone would be staring, watching the ice princess Mia Sauter hover on the brink of an orgasm, just from the delicious skill in Jared Kennedy’s mouth.