Married In Haste

by Dani Sinclair

Greg groaned. She was too smart and too stubborn for her own good. “That, too.”

  “Paul couldn’t have set that fire, Greg.”

  “I know. Let the police handle things, McKella.”

  “I will. I just need to check the accounts. Paul…I mean Jason…whoever he is—he has signature power.”

  His sense of alarm deepened. “Where’s your uncle?”

  “Upstairs with Dad.”

  “Shouldn’t you stay here?”

  “My father’s unconscious, Greg. Only one more visitor can see him tonight and it’s Uncle Larry’s turn.”

  He knew her brave front was sheer bravado. She had to be running on pure nerves at this point. “We don’t have a car, McKella. What do you suggest we do for transportation?”

  “You don’t have to come with me. This isn’t your problem, Greg.”

  He didn’t bother to respond, stepping aside to let her enter the elevator and depressing the button marked lobby. Her assumption that he would let her go alone irritated him. Didn’t she understand they were in this together?

  “Uncle Larry lent me his car keys. He’ll catch a cab home,” she said.

  “Does he know where you’re going?”

  “Yes.”

  Greg tipped his head to study her. “He approved?”

  “I’ve got his keys.” She dangled them from her fingers.

  Greg followed her outside, feeling edgy. Larry’s car was a top of the line Mercedes-Benz with leather interior, gadgets galore and a built-in telephone. McKella headed for the driver’s side, then stopped.

  “Second thoughts?”

  She cast him a dirty look. “Do you drive?”

  “You want me to drive?”

  “No, frankly, I want you to go back home, wherever that is, but somehow, I don’t think you’re going to do that at the moment.”

  “McKella…”

  “Okay, darn it, the truth is, I can’t see to drive.”

  He closed the gap between them in two long strides. “What is it? Let’s get you back inside and have those x-rays—”

  “No! It isn’t that.” She looked down to where his hands were gripping her forearms. “My contacts tore the morning of the wedding. There wasn’t time to go home for a replacement set and my glasses were in my purse.”

  Greg’s tension drained away, leaving a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.

  “If you laugh at me…”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.”

  “You are the most exasperating man.”

  “Thanks.” He held out his hand for the keys. “But I’m a very good driver.”

  “You’d better be.”

  “Nice car,” Greg offered as he slid behind the wheel.

  “Do you think so? It’s a little rich for my taste.”

  “Your uncle must make a good salary.”

  McKella shrugged. “Turn right at the next traffic light Uncle Larry doesn’t have anything else to spend his money on. His wife’s been dead for years.” She sent a puzzled glance his way. “Were you trying to imply something?”

  “By saying it’s a nice car?”

  She made a face. “I get the feeling you don’t like my uncle, Greg.”

  “Hey, I don’t even know the man.” He had to dodge another car, which had come to a complete halt to make a right-hand turn.

  McKella settled back against the seat. “My nerves are a bit raw at the moment,” she told him.

  “I noticed.”

  She flashed him a sad little smile. “Dad looked so old and shriveled somehow, lying there all hooked up like that. The odds aren’t good, Greg. Not with the cancer eating him up inside.” Her words trailed away. Greg reached down and placed a comforting hand on her thigh, wishing there was something he could say.

  “Life isn’t fair, ‘Kella. But I’d never count Henry Patterson out.”

  Her smile was a little brighter as she directed him to turn off the main road. “You’re right. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

  A tall gate blocked the entrance. Tucked some distance away behind the gate sat the sprawling brick building that housed Patterson Opticals.

  “It doesn’t look like anything is wrong from here.”

  Greg had to agree. The fire must have been contained quickly. He powered down the window and inserted the card McKella had pulled from the glove box. In ponderous slow motion, the gate swung open.

  “Do you have live security?” he asked.

  “A night watchman.”

  “Only one? No dogs?”

  “One is enough. You need an identification card to go anywhere inside the building. We have a computer system that monitors everything.”

  Greg groaned. “You need a better security system. I could get inside this place in a heartbeat.” A lone, battered pickup truck sat in the lot up front near the main entrance.

  “You could not.”

  “Want me to prove it?”

  “You’d set off alarms all over the place.”

  “Want to bet? This place is about as secure as a bus depot, McKella. Probably less so, because at least there you’d have a rent-a-cop or two.”

  “That isn’t funny.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be. Your outside fence is high, but it isn’t electrified or wired. A person can go over it, under it or through it. Also, those cards are very fancy, but they don’t work when the electricity goes out.”

  “We have a back-up system.”

  “Uh-huh. Computers are good tools. Great toys. Fun to operate. Easy to confuse.”

  “Excuse me. I thought you were an accountant, not a security expert.”

  Greg grinned. “One of the companies I saved was Azgaard Security.”

  He stopped the car, turned off the engine and twisted to face her.

  “And I suppose another was a computer company?” she asked wryly.

  He tapped her on the nose. “You’re catching on. I can recommend Azgaard highly.”

  “No doubt you own a percentage of it?”

  “No doubt.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Yep. Want me to prove it?”

  Something flickered across her expression, too quickly for him to decipher.

  “I could break in and prove what I said,” he offered.

  “For now, let’s just do it the easy way. It’s late and all I want is a quick glance around to assess the damage and pass the word that Paul isn’t to be allowed inside.”

  “The fire department will have roped the area off,” he warned.

  “Uncle Larry says I can still see inside.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Greg, you’re seeing bogeymen behind every bush.”

  “Well, maybe you’d better start watching the bushes.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Someone tried to shove you down a flight of stairs today. Have you forgotten?” Anger at her close escape lent a curt tone to his words.

  She shuddered. “Hardly. I’m so stiff I can barely move.”

  He sighed and rubbed her thigh gently. Her gaze flew from his hand to his face. He liked the way she became disconcerted whenever she started thinking of him in a sexual way.

  Immediately, her business persona resurfaced. “I won’t be long. You can wait out here—”

  “Alone in the dark? I don’t think so.” He stroked the material covering her leg. A pulse point jumped to life in her neck. His fingers moved up to caress the side of her face, and he marveled anew at the softness of her skin.

  “You’re a big boy, Greg,” she said breathlessly.

  “Glad you noticed.” He smiled when she blushed. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked before she could chastise him.

  Her amber eyes were wide and watchful. “Yes. I…I’m fine. Just a little stiff.”

  A fine tremor shivered through his body. She was so unbelievably sweet. He tried to remind himself that he was the wrong man for this woman.

  “It’s nice of you to worry�
�” she began hesitantly.

  He shook his head. “I’m not a nice man, remember?”

  His fingers stopped their stroking to cup her cheek. She stared at him, barely breathing, and he gave in to the irresistible temptation to close the distance between them.

  “Gre—”

  His lips captured the sound of his name. McKella tensed for just a second, then her hands slid to his shoulders—to pull him closer, not to push him away.

  Satisfied, he allowed his tongue to explore her mouth. She made a tiny sound of contentment that sent ripples of need along his hardening body. He slid his arm around her, drawing her closer…and his elbow jabbed the horn.

  Chapter Eight

  They broke apart like startled children. He could taste her sweetness in his mouth, and he wanted more. She pressed two shaky fingers against her trembling lips and Greg fought a powerful need to draw her back against him, to taste her more deeply.

  “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  Her words were soft whips, reminding him of all the reasons he couldn’t claim this woman. Not now, not ever.

  “If you expect me to apologize…”

  A quick shake of her head. “I don’t.” Her hand reached for the door handle and she was out of the car before he could stop her. “Coming?”

  “Damn.” He took his time stepping from the car, surveying the dark parking lot. “Whose truck?” he asked to give himself time to recover from the devastating effect she had on his senses.

  “That belongs to Ralph, the watchman.”

  “It’s too dark out here.” He came around the car and joined her on the sidewalk. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “We turn out the lights late at night to save money.”

  “Believe me, the amount you’re saving isn’t worth the risk of this dark lot. Let’s go inside and get this over with.”

  “I told you it’s not necessary for you to come with me. In fact—”

  He stopped her words with a shake of his head. “Sorry. I just don’t like this situation. Too many things are happening around you. I’m worried, okay?” He reached for her arm, wishing he had the right to touch her in other ways, but knowing he didn’t dare.

  “Okay.”

  He turned away from her vulnerable expression before he could give in to the savage impulses yammering inside him. “You want to go look at the damage, we’ll go look at the damage.”

  Inside, a portly man whose belt supported his stomach hurried forward to open the second set of double glass doors. From behind the reception desk came the unmistakable sound of a television. Two soft drink cans, a bag of potato chips and a half-eaten candy bar littered the otherwise pristine surface of the rounded desk.

  “Ms. Patterson…I mean, Mrs. Dinsmore…I wasn’t expecting you. How’s your father doing?”

  “Holding his own, Ralph. Were you the one who found him?”

  “No, ma’am. That would be the fire department. They made a quick check of the building.”

  “Looking for my father?”

  “No, ma’am. Just as a precaution. We didn’t know anyone was in the building.”

  “My father didn’t sign in?”

  Ralph scratched his balding head, distress pleating his features. “Well, no. Now that you come to mention it…”

  McKella flashed Greg a dark look. Wisely, he said nothing. “Mr. Wyman and I will be taking a look around, Ralph.”

  “Sure. You want me to go with you? The fire didn’t spread past the lab, but the smoke carried through the ventilation system. They had to close everything down.”

  “The lab doesn’t have its own system?” Greg asked.

  “No,” McKella answered. “It’s supposed to self-seal in the event of a fire or an alarm being tripped. Want to say ‘I told you so,’ now?”

  “Think I’ll pass. Thanks just the same.”

  “Uh, you both should sign in, Ms.—Mrs. Dinsmore.”

  “Of course.”

  Ralph hurried back to the desk. “I’ve got a flashlight right here. Power’s off in the lab. I’m not even supposed to go inside, just take a quick look around is all, but I don’t guess it matters if you do. Go inside, I mean.”

  McKella gave Greg an I-dare-you-to-say-a-word look. He grinned at her, knowing words from him would be superfluous at this point.

  He followed her through the labyrinth of corridors. While there was light, he allowed himself to enjoy the subtle sway of her hips. The material of the sexy blue jumpsuit whispered provocatively over her body.

  “Before you leave, let me have the phone number for that security firm you recommended,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “You got it.” He was amazed when his voice came out sounding relatively normal, and thankful when they reached the area where the lights disappeared and McKella had to turn on the flashlight. Unfortunately, he couldn’t turn off his randy thoughts quite so easily.

  Smoke clung to the air, the smell growing stronger the closer they got. The police department’s yellow tape roped off the lab. Without the flashlight, they wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. The scene was eerie enough for a horror movie. Greg’s earlier apprehension returned with a vengeance.

  “Poor Ben,” McKella murmured. She aimed the flashlight for the darkest, most scorched area. “That was his research area. I’m glad we keep back-up files upstairs as well as in the vault. I just hope his were up to date.”

  His sense of alarm increased the longer they stood there, easy targets in the darkness with their telltale flashlight beam. “You have a vault in here?”

  McKella swung the light toward a dark metal door not far from the worst of the fire damage. “Over there. It was here when Dad bought the place.”

  “Maybe we’d better go upstairs and have a look at those back-up files, McKella.”

  “Yes. I think we’d better,” she agreed with slow deliberation.

  “Any idea why your father would have been in the building last night?”

  She raised her head to look at him. “Only the same idea you have. Dad must have discovered something about Paul—Jason.”

  “Stick with Paul,” he told her, watching the darkness. “As far as the police know, you don’t know him by any other name. And this doesn’t have to be about your husband, McKella. Maybe your father came to see your uncle.”

  Hair slapped her cheek as she shook her head. “Dad is pretty much bedridden. Only something extreme would have dragged him down here.”

  He resisted an impulse to touch her—definitely not a good idea. “McKella, there’s something I think you’d better know. Four years ago, when I did that audit, there was money missing.”

  She jerked her head in astonished disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your father paid back what your uncle owed and I straightened out the books afterwards.”

  “Are you saying my uncle stole from Patterson?”

  He hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell her. “Your father called it ‘borrowing.’ He said your uncle had several investments turn bad on him all at once and he used company funds to bail himself out.”

  “I don’t believe this.”

  Greg sighed. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but I think we should take a quick look at the books while we’re here.” Even in the reflected light from the flashlight, he could see her shock.

  “You’re saying my uncle is a crook?”

  “No. I’m saying he borrowed some money once. Your dad must not think he was a crook or he wouldn’t have let him continue running the accounting department.” Greg didn’t add that people had blind spots and, apparently, Larry was one of her father’s. “I just thought you should know.”

  McKella faced him in the eerie light cast by the flashlight. “Why?”

  “This process Kestler’s working on is going to be worth a lot of money, am I right? Did you ever hear of industrial spying?”

  “Now you think my uncle is a spy?”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. But Hen
ning suggested we take a close look at Kestler’s process. That’s where the big money is and people generally commit crimes for gain.”

  McKella resumed walking until they reached a section of hallway that was dimly lit. She snapped off the flashlight. “What else did you and Eric talk about?”

  “He thinks your husband was the one who stabbed him the night before your wedding.”

  A bleak look crossed her face, but she straightened her shoulders and headed for a stairwell. Without a word, she led the way to the executive offices upstairs. The smell of smoke lingered even here.

  They entered what had been her father’s modest office four years ago. McKella flicked on the wall switch and let out a startled gasp. The safe hung open, as did a file drawer and one of the desk drawers. Someone had rifled the office—in a big hurry.

  “Who had the combination to the safe?” Greg asked.

  “Paul, Dad, Uncle Larry, me and Denise, Dad’s secretary of twenty years.”

  “Was your husband using this office?”

  “Yes.” She headed for the safe and peered inside without touching anything.

  “Can you tell what’s missing?”

  “Maybe. Eventually.”

  “Your books?”

  “Computerized.”

  “I know. The back-up disks and hard copies?”

  “Don’t you know where they are?”

  “I know where they were.”

  “Well, they’re still kept in the same place—my uncle’s wall safe.”

  He followed her to the accounting department. Her uncle’s safe also stood open—the only thing that had been touched in the more opulently appointed room.

  “They aren’t here,” McKella told him.

  “I didn’t think they would be.”

  “You think my uncle did this?” she challenged.

  “Or your husband, hoping to make your uncle look guilty. The other back-up material is in the vault?”

  “Yes, but we can’t get in without electricity.”

  “There must be a fail-safe.”

  “Probably, but I don’t know what it is.”

  He shook his head. “I thought you owned this company.”

  McKella spun and headed back the way they had come.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To look at the vault.”

  “McKella, we should get out of here and phone the police.” The alarm he’d been feeling had become clanging sirens in his head. He wanted her away from here. Now.