No Safe Place. Sherri Shackelford

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СКАЧАТЬ away a few steps. “I’d better get going. Traffic.”

      “Let me walk you to your car.”

      “I’ll be fine. This building is full of security cameras.” She let the implication hang in the air between them. Every move she made left a cyber trail. Her gaze swung between the elevator door and the stairwell. She turned toward the stairs. “See you Monday.”

      “Tuesday,” Corbin corrected. “Don’t forget Monday is a federal holiday.”

      A flash of disappointment surprised her. She wouldn’t be seeing him after today. Better she was leaving now before he directed the full, potent appeal of those ice-blue eyes on her. There was something about Corbin that had her feeling like a giggling schoolgirl with her first crush.

      He adjusted his glasses on his nose. “I can’t believe we get Columbus Day off. Any big plans for the holiday weekend?”

      “Thought I’d organize my taxes.”

      “It’s October.”

      “I work on a fiscal year.” She cringed inwardly. “See you Tuesday.”

      “Enjoy your taxes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I can take a hint.”

      She opened and closed her mouth, then turned. If he was working for Cayman Holdings, he was an excellent undercover operative. If he was innocent, she’d just turned down her first chance at an actual date in over a year.

      Who was she kidding?

      He was up to something. There was no reason for him to zero in on her when Karli from marketing had been raising her hemlines and lowering her necklines since Corbin had taken up residence in the corner office.

      Beth paused. Should she take the stairs? Corbin always took the stairs. They both did; that’s how she knew his habits. Don’t deviate from the routine. She wasn’t any safer stuck with Corbin in the elevator than being alone with him in the stairwell. When she reached the end of the aisle, she glanced over her shoulder.

      Corbin had disappeared.

      A chill snaked down her spine. No one of his size should be able to disappear that quietly. Did they teach that sort of thing in Special Forces? Probably.

      A new coffee house on Fifth Street. She snorted softly. She wasn’t a complete fool.

      Her heart racing, she took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door to the parking garage. Only a couple other cars remained. Keeping her back straight and her gait purposeful, she crossed the distance.

      The sound of her heels striking the concrete echoed through the cavernous, empty space. Pausing beside the car, she dug in her purse for her keys. Normally she kept them at the ready when exiting a parking garage. Corbin’s unexpected appearance upstairs had distracted her.

      As she fumbled with her purse, she dropped the bag. “Calm down, Beth.”

      She took a deep, relaxing breath. Everything was fine. She was overreacting. No one knew anything, least of all Corbin. Whatever suspicions he may have, she’d done nothing to confirm them. Not yet. She scooped up her purse and stepped back. Glass crunched beneath her feet.

      The hairs on the nape of her neck stirred, and she tipped back her head. The security camera hung from a single electrical wire. The glass lens was shattered.

      A hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream.

      Corbin raced down the stairs, the soles of his shoes squeaking over the tile surface.

      He should be able to catch her. Petite and classily beautiful, Beth Greenwood’s daily uniform consisted of a pencil skirt and blouse, her blond hair in a neat bun, and a sensible pair of pumps to complete the look. Not the best outfit for a speedy getaway.

      Until now, her reputation had been impeccable, rendering his evidence circumstantial at best, but the coincidences were adding up. Her name had come up twice in connection to a fraudulent account. The first time she’d appeared on his radar, she’d switched jobs right in the middle of his investigation, and the trail had gone cold. She’d resurfaced yet again when she’d inquired about an offshore account he’d flagged for suspicious activity. Now it appeared as though she was going to perform another disappearing act before he could gather further evidence of her involvement.

      Working on a hunch, he’d had her followed. Last week she’d deviated from her regular routine. She’d been seen with two men in a part of town known on the nightly news for drug deals gone bad. The pair of men she’d met in the seedy bar were known in the criminal underworld for helping people disappear. While Corbin couldn’t prove she’d done anything but order a soda water, that meeting was too big a coincidence for a man who didn’t believe in happenstance.

      The train ticket protruding from her bag when she’d tripped over the trash bin had confirmed his suspicions. He’d tucked the revealing evidence deeper into the pocket before she’d noticed, but not before he’d memorized her departure. Tomorrow. 5:45 a.m. One way.

      The accountant was running. Innocent people didn’t run. She’d been his first suspect since her name had come up in the previous audit. Didn’t help that she’d spent the past week behaving like a textbook example of a guilty person. She was edgy and jumpy—rarely leaving her desk—even for meals. She didn’t want anyone messing with her computer. She didn’t want anyone to know what she was doing. Innocent people had nothing to hide.

       Strike one.

      Corbin pushed open the door to the garage, and his blood froze.

      A man had his arm clamped around Beth’s waist, the other hand covering her mouth.

      His adrenaline surged. She kicked and clawed. Her heels scuffed along the cement, and one of her shoes tumbled free. A car idled opposite the exit, a shadowy figure in the driver’s seat, presumably the getaway vehicle. Ducking behind a pillar, Corbin rapidly scanned the garage. He’d backed his nondescript sedan into the spot opposite Beth’s. The proximity was purposeful. If she was planning on disappearing, he wanted to know. He crouched and crossed the distance, then fished out his key fob and hit the button twice, remotely starting his car.

      The man holding Beth spun toward the noise. The next instant he yelped and stumbled backward, clutching his face.

      Beth held her arm extended, a canister of pepper spray in her outstretched hand. Writhing in pain, the man lurched away from her assault. He groped blindly in the direction of his waiting vehicle. Corbin dove into his car and slammed the transmission into First. He roared out of the space, positioning the passenger side before Beth.

      Her face pale, she glanced up from her crouched position.

      He leaned over the console and pushed open the door. “Get in!”

      She scooped up her purse, her frightened gaze swinging between him and her car.

      The pepper-sprayed man had reached the getaway vehicle. Still blinded, he fumbled with the handle.

      Beth shook her head. “No.”

      “Get in!” he ordered. “There’s no time.”

      A bullet ricocheted off the СКАЧАТЬ