The passenger’s-side window rolled down and a thin file appeared in the space. No words, just a tap of a folder.
Pompous and dripping with an overactive ego, his employer continued to act as if he could separate the things he did from who he was. A typical smarmy blowhard dressed in a too-expensive suit. From the sunglasses to the shiny watch to the annoying way he held his head an inch too high, the man’s overblown sense of self begged for Clive to put him down.
His usual business philosophy faltered with this guy. Usually, as long as he was paid Clive ignored the overdose of attitude. The second an employer failed to transfer the payment on time and in the right amount, Clive would cut him down—literally. It had happened only twice, but his reputation remained intact. Both of those disloyal men were dead and Clive promised the same to anyone who tried to screw him.
He leaned down but didn’t grab the papers. “What’s this?”
His employer continued to stare out the front window. Didn’t even bother to turn down the news on the radio or give eye contact. “Your one chance to fix your mess.”
Clive decided he could do without the overwrought drama, but that was what this guy did best. “I already did.”
“You left a witness. Worse, you opened the door to more trouble than you can imagine.”
Clive kept his one hand behind his back, next to his weapon, and grabbed the file with the other. “Meaning?”
The employer finally faced Clive, but the dark glasses hid any reaction. “Your backup failed to tie up loose ends, so I am reluctantly trusting you to do it.”
The words made the nerve in the back of Clive’s neck twitch. “What backup?”
“I always have insurance.”
“So do I. That’s why Ms. Bart will now take the fall for the murder. Problem solved.”
“She is the least of your worries now.” His employer turned the radio volume up and looked forward again as if to ignore Clive’s very existence on the Earth. “The man referenced in that file is your main concern. Neutralize him immediately.”
The car took off before Clive could move away. Only luck and quick reflexes prevented him from becoming a victim of a hit-and-run or losing a foot.
But he would remember. When this was over, his employer might need a lesson. One at the end of a knife, and Clive did so enjoy his knife work.
There would be time for that later. Now he needed to focus. He flipped open the file and read the name at the top and the job history.
Davis Weeks.
Looked as though Ms. Bart had a built-in protector. That was fine with Clive. This Weeks guy would bleed out like any other man…slowly and with as much pain as possible.
Then Clive would pay his employer a much-needed late-night visit.
Chapter Four
Davis sat across from Lara on the back deck of his brother’s twenty-six-foot cruiser. The gentle rock of the boat and slosh of water against the side had a hypnotizing effect. So did watching the guy four slips down stack enough supplies on the dock for a four-month voyage. Never mind that his boat was small enough to get tossed around in the ocean. Davis hoped the guy had the smarts to limit his trip to close-in on the Chesapeake Bay and have the coast guard on standby just in case.
But Davis had enough to worry about without adding another person to his Watch List. With his elbows balanced on his knees, Davis looked down at the rough white floor under his sneakers and listened to Lara’s description of what had happened at the Capitol Hill town house.
A knife wound. A dead naval officer. An attacker with a gun. Lara wrestling free and going on the run.
It was a lot to take in.
With each word, the adrenaline increased in speed as it raced through him. The need to find the guy and rip him apart nearly swamped Davis. He jammed his teeth together to keep from letting his rage out.
She wound down when she hit the part about leaving the city and heading for Annapolis. With an arm stretched over the top of the back bench, she stared at the locked gate separating the public area from the boat slips. Her mind clearly wandered to other concerns.
He knew where. “No one is coming in here who shouldn’t be here.”
“What?” She blinked as she looked at him.
He nodded in the direction of the mounted camera on the dock. “My team is watching the area through closed circuit.”
“When did that happen?”
The woman could stand to have a bit more faith in his skills. “The second after I called Pax.”
She shifted sideways and put her legs up on the padded seat. Thanks to a quick stop at the discount store, she’d changed clothes. Gone was the ripped and professional outfit. He preferred her this way. Relaxed and at ease. With her itinerary today, she’d earned a few minutes of peace.
She now wore jeans and one of those tops barely held on her shoulders with thin straps. It slipped past her waist but not by much. Another twist and he’d get a peek of her sexy bare skin and flat stomach. Not that he needed a reminder. He remembered every inch of her with his eyes open or closed.
She tipped her head back, and the fading sun streamed through her hair. Her husky voice echoed around them as she closed her eyes. “Are you in charge of this team?”
Damn, she was beautiful.
“No.” The word caught in his throat, but he pushed it out.
Also fought the urge to make her tell the entire story again. She’d run through it three times, the last one while grumbling and frowning at him through all but the end. She didn’t understand the importance of those tiny details that became clearer with each telling. He did.
“When did you take the job with Hampton and start doing security-clearance checks?” He knew her official start date, but the reasons for the change were a mystery.
“When I decided being an office manager at an intellectual-property law firm was not the most exciting career ever.”
He’d left her in a safe job with benefits and no danger, other than falling into a boredom coma or getting her shirt caught in the copier. Now she walked in and out of situations with people she didn’t know. Yes, she asked questions and collected data for a living, which should be relatively safe, but going into a stranger’s house was a whole different level of danger. One he didn’t accept for her.
“Isn’t protocol to meet interviewees in public places?” he asked.
“Have you been reading my employee manual?”
“I’m serious.” And about a half step away from being furious with her for taking huge chances.
“Usually, but this was a rush job and my boss asked me to fit the Wasserman interview in.”
The sequence seemed clear to Davis. She broke protocol this one time and the world came crashing down around her. Either her being there was pure coincidence, or someone had set her up. If the latter was true, then the second attack of the day made less and less sense.
So did her sudden change of position on job-related risk. She’d hated that he took them, but now she was plunking that perfect butt right into the middle of some sort of war.
The realization made his hands shake with the need to yell. The growl roared up from his stomach, but he tamped it back down. “So, you switched jobs because you wanted something dangerous.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I’m thinking it was implied.” She was making this conversation more convoluted than necessary, and they both knew it. The fact she didn’t give him eye contact gave her away.