Dangerous Secrets (3 page)

“You’d best get home. Trent will be by around six
tonight. Any trouble at all, you call me immediately,” she said. Handing over a
card, she walked at Mallory’s side to the door.

Chapter Two

Walking into C&M Security through the employee
door, Trent wandered up the hall to the reception area and over to Chandra’s desk.
The fiery redhead that was their receptionist grinned up at him.

“How’s it hanging?” she asked, like she always did.

“Free and clear and in the wind,” he replied, like
he always did.

She laughed at that and then jerked her thumb to
the second floor. “Rob needs to see you. She’s got an assignment for you, one I
think you just might like, sexy.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of workplace harassment?”
he asked as he headed for the stairs. Spinning, he walked a couple of steps
backward. “That’s a two way street, you know.”

She just laughed again and then cut a loud wolf-whistle
when he went up the stairs. “Nice buns, sugar,” she yelled after him.

Chuckling, he made his way to Robyn’s office. He
rapped his knuckles on the open door and stepped in as her head came up. “You
wanted to see me?”

“Yup, shut the door and pull up a chair.”

After doing as she’d asked, he fell into one of her
guest chairs and took the folder she handed him.

“Mallory Thompson,” Robyn said. “She’s a chef over
at Carmela’s in the downtown. High-class, high
pricetag
sort of joint, very hard to get a table in
under
three
months. She was attacked just under two weeks ago. Her attacker, an unknown
male, wanted some sort of drive from her. He seemed to think she had it or knew
where it was and was willing to kill to get it. She suffered a good amount of
time in a lake, being nearly drowned time and again, and a gunshot to her right
shoulder. Currently, there is a police presence on her apartment but—” She
shrugged.

“They’re stretched thin as is and won’t be able to
stick around for much longer. So, what’s my cover?” he asked.

“Her boyfriend.
You’ve been out of town on business and just got back. You have talked
to her a couple of times, but she didn’t mention the attack. You did hear
through the grapevine of common friends about the attack so, as soon as your
plane landed, you headed straight there.”

Nodding, he read through the statement Mallory had
given the cops. It was pretty detailed, except for the assailant, which was
thin.
Really thin.
Flipping to the next section, he
read through his cover story and chuckled. “Military contractor?” he asked,
shooting her a look.

“Hey, go with what you know right?” she asked with
a grin.

“True enough,” he nodded. Any good cover had to
have a strong thread of truth to it. He knew the military life, knew how
contractors worked and knew the lingo better than most of them. He’d lived and
breathed the military daily for nearly twelve years before getting out and
joining C&M.

Once he’d finished reading, he passed the folder
back and took the iPad she handed him. Tapping the screen he got his first look
at the woman.

“Mallory Thompson,” Robyn said, confirming his
assumption.

She was stunning. She had shoulder-length black
wavy hair, lovely green eyes, skin the color of honey and a smattering of
freckles over her upper cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She was, quite
frankly, the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long time.

Not classically beautiful, but
beautiful in a natural, raw way that too few women could ever achieve, even
with their four hour rituals. Handing the pad back over, he sat back in his
chair. “When’s she expecting me?” he asked.

“Six or so, though she’ll likely still
be surprised to see you,” Robyn said.

Most people were the first time they
laid eyes on him. He was, what his mother so fondly love to point out to anyone
that would listen, a bruiser. Broad shoulders, thick chest and heavily muscled.
Not a bodybuilder by any sense of the definition, but he wasn’t about to blow
away in a good strong breeze, either.

Rob handed him another set of folders.
“This is what the cops managed to dig up before the trail went cold. I didn’t
mention it to her, so it’s up to you if you want to share.”

Flipping open the top folder, he looked over the
evidence they’d managed to collect, including the scrapings under Mallory’s
nails. Most had been degraded or compromised but the skin sample had been
clean. She’d likely curled her fingers up into a ball to protect it, acting on
instinct.

The lab had gotten a DNA profile from the sample,
but there’d been no matches in their database. They were still working
international and other agency databases to find a match.
So
far, no hits.

“So we know the guy has three good scratches, but
given it was ten days ago, they’ve likely mostly healed. Unless they get lucky
with him being in a federal database or international, we’re screwed as to an
ID.” He looked up at Robyn and cocked a brow.

“Pretty much,” she said.

“And we still have no idea what this drive is that
he was looking for or why he’s looking for it?” he asked.

“None.
Shawn and I,” she
said, naming her co-owner of C&M. “Have put out feelers to various groups
we know and who know of such things. We’re looking to see if there was a heist
or something.
So far, nada.
Granger isn’t the sort to
spook. He’s been a cop longer than most of us have been out of diapers. But he
told me, flat out, he has a bad feeling about this entire thing.”

“Which means you’re taking the threat seriously,”
Trent said. It wasn’t even a question. When a man of Granger’s years said he
had a bad feeling, it was best to listen.

“Yup,” she nodded. “I wish I could give you more,
Trent. But we just don’t have it. We’re going into this blind.”

“Not like we’ve never been in a similar situation.
Though, usually, they don’t try to kill a client until we’ve been on the job
for a while.”

She gave him a sour look that had him chuckling. It
was the truth, whether she liked to admit it or not. Usually, people knew when
they were in trouble or were high profile enough to expect some sort of trouble
or retribution. But Mallory Thompson was a chef. Not exactly a high threat job,
except for kitchen accidents maybe.

Shutting the first folder, he slid it under the
second and opened it up. It was a review of all those in Mallory’s life,
backgrounds, criminal records and anything else that could be of use, or not.
It included everyone in the apartment building, the apartment management group
and on site caretakers. There were sheets on all the employees and the owner of
the restaurant she worked at. There were even police records of incidents that
had happened at the restaurant and within twenty blocks of her apartment over
the last five years.

He had to give the C&M geeks their
due,
they were fucking efficient and thorough. But not a
single thing he read threw up any sort of red flag for him. Shutting the folder,
he looked to his boss again.

“I know,” she said. “But we had to look. It’s
better to have nothing going in then to have a bomb dropped on us part way
through this.” Looking at her watch, she stood. “You’d better head out. You
need to pack a big enough bag to look like you’ve been out of country for the
last couple of weeks.”

Getting to his feet, Trent rubbed a hand to his
jaw. Good thing he hadn’t shaved recently. It would help lend to the appearance
that he’d been somewhere such things weren’t exactly necessary. Dropping the
folders onto Rob’s desk, he headed for the door.

“What should I be taking in?” he asked.

“We’re going to have to find a way to get the guys
into her building and wire her apartment. She doesn’t have a security system,
which doesn’t help. Plus, I want to get cameras on all areas, so that if
someone comes for her, you have fair warning,” Robyn said as they walked toward
the stairs. “Gear up with whatever you think you’ll need. We can supplement you
as required.”

Nodding, he scratched at his jaw. “How
old’s
her building?” he asked.

The look Robyn gave him said she just wasn’t
following his line of thinking.

“Find out what company does the repairs for things
like the pipes and heating. With an older building they need more repair, so it
wouldn’t be odd to see a truck parked in the lot.”

She grinned up at him. “Damn, there really is a
smart little brain hidden in there.” “Good thinking. I’ll get on the phone with
the management company and we’ll arrange to have our guys come in. We’ll do it
during the day so that, hopefully, we can avoid as many of the residents as
possible as they’ll be at work.”

“Good,” he nodded.

After chatting a few more minutes he left her to
her task and went to get ready for the part he’d be playing for the next
however long.

Chapter Three

When the buzzer rang, Mallory jumped, dropping the
romance novel she’d been unsuccessfully trying to read. Picking it up, she
tossed it onto the coffee table and looked to the clock.

Six on the nose.
Wiping her suddenly damp palms on her slacks, she depressed the button.
“Hello?”

“Mal, it’s me, let me in,” the deep voice said.

While she didn’t recognize the voice, she pressed
the button to release the door. There was only one person coming to see her
right then.
Her new “boyfriend.”

Swallowing hard, she moved to the door and pressed
a hand against it to brace herself. Unlocking the deadbolt, Mallory slipped the
chain off and pulled the door open. Stepping into the hall slightly, she nearly
swallowed her tongue as the face Robyn had shown her came into view from the
stairwell door.

He was fucking massive!
Holy
shit.

“Hi,” she managed to whisper when he got close.

He cupped her cheek gently and then urged her inside.
A nice, short and sweet display of concern for any neighbors
that might have been watching.

Once the door was closed he dropped his bag and
held out his hand. “Trent McDonald,” he said in his deep voice.

Squelching the shiver that went up her spine and
down to places she didn’t have time to think about, she stuck her hand into
his. “Mallory Thompson.” His hand was warm, rough and he squeezed just enough,
but not too much.

“Nice to meet you.”
He let go slowly and then stuck his hands into his jean pockets.

“Oh, uh, come on in,” she said, waving a hand to
the apartment. “Sorry.”

He smiled then, just a little, and chuckled. “Don’t
apologize. This can’t be a comfortable situation for you.”

“No, definitely a little strange.”
She didn’t know what to do. Thankfully, the timer she had on the oven
saved her. “That’s dinner. I, uh—” She shrugged.

Damn it. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry and I
likely went overboard. I cook when I’m nervous and apparently babble, too.”
Making a face, she turned and headed for the kitchen. He could follow if he
wanted.

Apparently he did, since he stood in the opening
between the kitchen and the living room when she turned with the dish she’d
pulled from the oven. She’d been hopeful he might eat, setting the table for
two.

Carrying the dish to the table, she set it down on
the towel she’d laid there and took the lid off. Then, she went back to the
stove and dumped the vegetables into bowls. “
Sit,
dig
in, if you want to, that is.” She put the bowls down. “I have water, milk, beer
and wine,” she told him, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“Water’s fine by me,” he said.

But he didn’t sit down. He stayed right where he
was as she grabbed a bottle of water for each of them. Only when she’d sat did
he settle into the chair opposite her.

“So, what is all this?” he asked curiously as he
took the water she passed him.

“Garlic fried potatoes, honey-dill carrots and a
new version of a barbecue chicken I’m trying out. I’ve been playing with the
recipe a bit over the last while to get it just right. I always mess with
recipes at home before I present them to my boss and see about getting them on
the menu,” she said.

Trent dished up for himself as she put some food on
her own plate. Buying time while he tried everything, she sipped at her water
and watched him. She smiled when his eyes went wide after a bite of the
chicken.

“Holy shit, this is good.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she said
with a laugh.

“I didn’t mean to, but damn, this is really good.”

“Well, it’s still in the initial stages of getting
the barbecue sauce just right. That’s why I bake it instead of grilling. I need
to ensure everything is balanced before I add in the smokiness of a grill. The
flavors have to stand on their own and have the right after notes, but they
can’t be the sort that will be affected by the grilling process either. It’s a
balancing act,” she said.