Christmas Guardian. Delores Fossen

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      She glanced in the mirror. He was still following them. “What does he want?”

      Jordan shrugged, but there was nothing casual about his body language. “He’s a P.I. who works for Burke Securities.”

      Her mouth dropped open. “Burke Securities as in the Burke Dennison who bought your company?”

      “The very one.”

      Kinley shook her head. “Why does Burke have someone following us?”

      Another muscle went to work in his jaw. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I mean he’s not being very subtle. And he knows we’re on to him. If I just keep driving, it might send him the wrong message—that we have something to hide.” Jordan took his foot off the accelerator. “Get down now.”

      Jordan spun the steering wheel around, causing his Porsche to do a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. It was precise. As if he’d choreographed it, he bumped into the rear side of the black car and sent it into a spin.

      Before Kinley could stop him, Jordan drew his gun and threw open the door.