Betrayed

by Rebecca York

  “Give me a couple of minutes to freshen up.”

  “I’ll meet you in the main lobby.”

  ***

  Elena hurried to the ladies’ room, used the facilities, and went to the sink where she inspected her face in the mirror while she washed her hands.

  The woman who stared back seemed flushed and nervous, and she was sure Shane Gallagher had picked up on that when he’d come to her cubicle. Did he think she was hiding something that had to do with work? She hated to think so, but on the other hand, she’d hate him knowing the real reason why she was on edge. She’d had a very sexual dream last night, a dream where he was the star attraction. Just that thought brought more color to her cheeks, and she made a sound low in her throat.

  “Stop it,” she muttered to herself. “Think about something else.”

  She dug her comb out of her purse and swiped it through her hair, then got out lipstick and stroked on a little. Standing back to survey the effect, she hoped it didn’t look like she’d gotten fixed up for him. But then what was wrong with that? An attractive man had asked her to lunch, and there was no reason not to make herself look good for him. Any American girl would do that.

  Like her. Making herself into an American had been one of her goals. On the surface, she thought she had succeeded, but she knew her values were old-fashioned by American standards.

  Ordering herself not to keep going on about her reactions, she left the ladies’ room and took the elevator to the first floor, where Shane was standing in the lobby, gazing out the front window.

  He turned when he heard her coming up behind him. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she answered, hearing the breathy quality of her voice. She ordered herself to act normal, whatever that meant.

  “The deli’s not fancy.”

  “Do I look to you like a woman who needs fancy?” she heard herself ask.

  That stopped him for a moment, and she felt she might have scored a point when a hint of a smile touched his lips. “I guess not.”

  “Good.” But was she keeping score—and of what?

  When they stepped out of the building and into the parking lot, she noted that he had a good space, one of the numbered ones close to the building.

  His car was large. An SUV, she guessed you’d call it. Still, when they climbed into the front seat and closed the doors, she felt like the two of them were very close together. Closer than she would have chosen. She could smell the subtle tang of the aftershave he’d used, and she could see the muscles work in his arm as he reached to start the car and put it in gear. She grabbed on to the attraction she felt for him and deliberately pushed it into a corner of her mind.

  Still, when he twisted to look behind the car as he backed out of the parking space, she felt his shoulder brush hers and jumped back.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “That’s okay. I’m just…”

  “What?”

  She dragged in a breath and let it out. “I was brought up not to be alone with a man. It’s hard to break old habits.”

  When he tipped his head to the side, she heard herself explaining. “I’m from San Marcos.” So what was she doing now, trying to sabotage her all-American image?

  “Right. I forgot,” he said, making her think that he knew very well where she was from.

  “How long have you been here?” he asked.

  “Twenty years. But behavior gets drummed into you by your parents. And you know…the church.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you know what I mean?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  As long as they were having this conversation, she decided to ask, “What did your parents drum into you?”

  “Politeness, for one thing.” He paused. “And honesty.”

  She nodded. “I got that, too.”

  “And they made sure I valued work.”

  “Were you always in security?”

  “After college, when I couldn’t get a job, I joined the army and went into their investigative service.”

  “Oh.”

  “It was good training.”

  He pulled up in the parking lot of an entertainment complex.

  “It’s in here.”

  They didn’t go directly inside. Instead, she followed him around the side of the sprawling building to a restaurant that looked out over a small lake. Tables shaded by umbrellas were scattered around a wide concrete patio. Many were occupied, but there were still some vacant. When they went inside, she could see more tables with fewer people.

  “It’s a nicer view if you eat on the patio,” he commented. “And the sunshine’s good.”

  “Yes,” she answered as she scanned the menu, which was printed on a large board above the cooking area. There were a lot of items, enough to make a decision difficult.

  “My standard is corned beef on rye with coleslaw and Russian dressing. What’s your choice?”

  She focused on the board again and found one that met her own standards. “Tuna salad.”

  “And we could split some potato salad.”

  “Okay.”

  “What do you want to drink?”

  “Iced tea.”

  It was strange to suddenly be choosing food and preparing to have a meal with the man she’d had an intimate encounter with last night—even if it had been a fantasy that he didn’t even know about. The juxtaposition made her feel as though she had stepped from the real world into an alternate reality.

  “Why don’t you go get us a table,” he said. “I’ll order and bring out the food.”

  When she fumbled for her wallet, he waved his hand. “I’ll get it.”

  “But…”

  “You might have saved my life last night,” he said. “The least I can do is buy you lunch.”

  She answered with a small nod.

  “Get a nice table,” he said, changing the subject.

  Glad to get away from him for the moment, she stepped outside, feeling like she’d escaped from…what exactly?

  Blinking in the sunlight as she waited for her eyes to adjust again, she looked around at the tables and chose one close to the lake. She’d brought a sweater, thinking they might be eating inside where the air-conditioning was chilly. Because she didn’t need it out here, she draped it over one of the chair backs. Looking up again, she saw a mother duck in the water with eight fuzzy yellow babies trailing behind her. Glad for something to focus on besides the man buying her lunch, she went over to the waterside and bent over, watching the little family and wishing she had something to feed them.

  A hand on her shoulder made her jump. Looking around, she saw that Shane had come out with the food. He could have told her that he was back. Instead, he’d touched her.

  “I couldn’t resist watching the ducks. But I saved our table.”

  “Good.”

  She caught something in his voice, something she couldn’t quite figure out.

  He had put a plastic tray on the table with the sandwiches, potato salad, and drinks.

  As they sat across from each other, she emptied a packet of sugar into her tea and stirred it with the straw he’d brought. Then she unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. “This is good.”

  He kept his gaze on her. “How do you rate tuna sandwiches?”

  She laughed. “This one doesn’t have too much mayonnaise. The tuna is good quality, and it’s seasoned with pickle relish—which I like.”

  “An interesting analysis. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “What do you look for in a tuna sandwich?”

  He shifted in his seat. “I guess I think of tuna salad as lady food.”

  “Oh.”

  “I forgot to ask what kind of bread you like. Is the whole wheat okay?”

  “It’s fine.”

  They bit into their sandwiches and
chewed, and there was a moment of silence during which she wondered if they were both trying to think of something to say that didn’t involve the food.

  “I’m guessing they don’t have the same dishes in San Marcos,” he said.

  “No. They weren’t into sandwiches at home. More like meals based on rice and beans. Sometimes with meat. Chicken or fish.”

  “And not canned tuna fish, I’ll bet.”

  He was trying to make her relax with the small talk, but she wondered if she’d ever be able to relax around him.

  “No. I got to like it at school. Imitating the other girls in the cafeteria.”

  “You went to school around here?”

  “Yes. In Germantown. It was a good place to grow up.”

  “Why did you like it?”

  “There was a mix of people. I could fit in.”

  “What did you do for fun?”

  “Sky diving.”

  He blinked.

  “That was a joke.”

  “Right.”

  “I liked to read.”

  “What?”

  “Everything. Mystery. Science fiction. Romances. What about you?”

  “I was more into sports. Depending on the season. Football. Basketball. Baseball.”

  “I did that too. I was on a softball team.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” She laughed. “I was a good pitcher.”

  He gave her a considering look. “You?”

  She managed a mischievous smile. “I don’t look like a pitcher?”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he said with a grin. “And you stayed in the area after high school.”

  “My family’s still here. I didn’t want to move too far from them, in case my parents needed help.”

  “They’re getting old?”

  “They’re still doing all right.”

  “But you worry about them?”

  There was a lot she could say. She settled for a little nod.

  “You’ve been at S&D a while.”

  “It’s a good working environment.”

  She had let him lull her into letting down her guard, but the relaxing small talk ended abruptly with his next question.

  “Do you know about an employee in the IT department who was murdered?”

  Chapter 6

  Elena’s hand tightened on the sandwich, squishing the bread, and she deliberately eased her grip as tuna salad oozed out from between the slices.

  “You mean Arnold Blake?”

  “Yes. Any insights into what might have happened?”

  “You’re the security chief.”

  “It was before my time, and the police don’t have any leads.”

  Her mouth had gone dry, and she took a sip of tea. “I didn’t know him well,” she managed to say.

  “Did he seem suspicious to you?”

  That might be an opening to say something about the emails Arnold had sent her. But then what?

  “No,” she responded as she turned her sandwich in her hand, wishing she could get up and walk back to work. Shane Gallagher had put her on edge as soon as he’d started talking to her today. Then he’d fooled her into relaxing before springing a question about Arnold Blake. Or maybe she shouldn’t put it that way.

  Maybe he saw that he’d spooked her because he leaned back in his chair, focusing on his sandwich for a while and eating some of the potato salad. She took some of the salad, too.

  She finished most of her sandwich, saving the edges of the bread. She was annoyed with herself for acting nervous around him. He didn’t know about her damn dream. And she wasn’t going to talk about Arnold Blake.

  Arnold had been in his early sixties when he died. He had been friendly to her when she came to S&D. She’d thought of him as a mentor because he’d shown her the ropes in the IT department. And she’d come to him with questions when she was finding her way.

  He was married, and she had no intention of getting involved with him outside of work. But he’d started a correspondence with her that wasn’t strictly work related. He’d sent her little jokes, and he’d been into puzzles. He was designing them, calling them SIMon Sez, and sometimes he’d run answers by her. But that was about as far as it went with them.

  Because her mother had made her superstitious about discussing the dead, she didn’t want to talk about any of that with Shane. Instead, she walked to the edge of the lake and broke the bread crusts into pieces, throwing the bits into the water. The mom duck paddled over, and the babies followed. Smiling, she fed the little family, watching them scrabble around for the food.

  Shane came up beside her, and to her relief, he didn’t ask any more questions about Blake.

  “You like animals?”

  “Yes. That’s one of the things I miss in the States. There were lots more animals around back home. I loved to watch the babies with the mommas.” She looked at her watch. “This was a nice break, but I should get back to work.”

  “I’m sorry if I kept you from something you needed to do.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll just stay a little late.”

  “Sorry,” he said again.

  The conversation had petered out. For a little while, she’d felt closer to him. Now she reminded herself that she had no business thinking about him as anything but the company chief of security. They drove back to the S&D building without speaking.

  “Thanks,” she said as she got out at the front door and hurried back to her desk.

  As soon as she was out of his sight, she was angry with herself for being so off balance. She wanted to be a normal, self-assured American woman. She’d reached that status in her work. Now she had to do the same with her personal relationships. But she didn’t have a personal relationship with Shane, she reminded herself. Just a fantasy relationship. That silent observation made her snort.

  ***

  Shane dragged in a breath and let it out as he watched Elena hurry into the building. She’d been on edge with him, and he needed to know why. Because she was deep into something illegal that she was afraid the security chief was going to discover? If that was the case, she could be in danger, which gave him another reason to find out what had prompted her reaction to him.

  Or was he just looking for excuses to maintain contact with her because that’s what he secretly wanted?

  He spent the rest of the afternoon working on background checks, putting in extra time because he felt guilty about…something. He wasn’t sure what.

  Elena had told him she might work late, too. When he finally made his way down to the parking lot, she was standing beside her car, looking around with a disturbed expression on her face.

  Wondering what was wrong, he hurried over. By the time he reached her vehicle, she was inside again, trying to start the vehicle, but the sound told him she wasn’t having any success.

  Leaning down, he rapped on the driver’s side window of Elena’s car.

  Her head jerked up. When she saw it was him, she rolled down her window.

  “Shane. What are you doing here?”

  “I was working late, too. It sounds like you’re having problems.”

  She tightened her hands on the wheel. “My car won’t start.”

  “I can take a look.”

  She gave him a grateful look as he walked around to the front of the vehicle.

  “Open the hood release,” he said.

  As he leaned in and looked at the engine, he could see her watching him through the crack between the hood and the bottom of the window. The worry in her eyes made his chest tighten because he was thinking this might give him an opportunity he’d been looking for. He clamped his teeth together as he reached to touch a few engine parts, then shook his head. “I guess I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  “I’ll have to call a tow truck.”


  He looked around the almost empty parking lot. “It’s late, and I don’t want you hanging around here by yourself. I’ll wait with you.”

  He saw her consider the offer.

  “I don’t want to put you to any trouble. You probably want to get home.”

  “Why don’t you let me drive you home, and you can take care of the problem in the morning?”

  She thought that over, then finally nodded, climbed out of her car, and locked the door behind her.

  “Do you have a tissue?” he asked. To emphasize his problem, he rubbed his thumb across his fingers.

  She was instantly contrite, making him feel even guiltier.

  “You got your hands dirty. I’m sorry.” Digging into her purse, she found a tissue pack and gave him one. He wiped at his hands, but of course he couldn’t get all the grime off.

  “Where do you live?” he asked as they walked back to his car. Did he see a vehicle at the edge of the parking lot with its lights on? A car pulled the wrong way across several spaces. As he looked in that direction, the driver started the engine and drove off.

  “Luckily, not far,” Elena was saying. She gave him directions to a downscale garden apartment complex only a few miles from the S&D office. “I probably could have walked.”

  “Not a great idea.” As he turned into the complex, he looked toward the side of the road. “There are no sidewalks here.”

  “There are—in front of the buildings.”

  “Which one is yours?” he asked as he made the turn off the main road. He hadn’t been to the location before, and he thought he’d categorize it as lower middle class. The yellow-brick buildings looked to be at least fifty years old, each with a metal balcony. Some had a couple of plastic chairs on them. Other balconies were obviously being used for excess storage. And some sported bicycles.

  She glanced up, maybe judging his reaction.

  “It’s not fancy.”

  “It probably doesn’t matter once you get inside.”

  She directed him to a building at one end of the complex. When he pulled up, she immediately reached for the door handle.

  “Do you think I could come in and wash my hands?” he asked.