Contract Bride. Debra Webb

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      DAVID CRANE stood silently at his desk for several moments after Delaney left. David watched him leave the building on the private monitor that was usually disguised as a rather expensive oil painting. He had a very bad feeling about his old friend’s visit. David clenched his jaw to hold back the fury whipping through him.

      Someone knew. But no one—absolutely no one—was supposed to know. Only one of two people could have set this afternoon’s events into motion. Kessler possibly, but David doubted it, though he would certainly have one of his men look into that prospect. Kessler hadn’t opened his mouth in all this time, why would he do so now? He knew the consequences if he did. Kessler enjoyed his family…enjoyed life. He knew enough about this business to know that running his mouth off would get him killed. David would have killed him months ago, but that would only have aroused suspicions.

      Kessler knew better than to talk. And if it wasn’t Kessler, then it could only be one other person.

      But she was supposed to be dead.

      David pressed the intercom button for his chief of security. “I want Ethan Delaney followed. I want to know where he goes and with whom he speaks.”

      “Yes, sir, Dr. Crane.”

      David sank back into his chair, a muscle flexing rhythmically in his tense jaw. Delaney couldn’t know anything…not really.

      Because she was dead.

      He was sure of it.

      He’d ordered the contract personally.