How to Kill Your Boss (19 page)

“What the hell?” I asked, looking at her as if she’d have the answer.

Lizzie shot a nervous glance from her rearview to the road ahead and back again. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah. We went to school together.”

“Hey, Tate?” she whispered.

What was with the hush-hush?

“I think we’re being followed.”

I jerked around in my seat. Sure enough, a man on a black Harley followed two cars behind. The same black Harley I’d seen three times too many.

“What do I do?” she asked, more excited than nervous.

I was so done with the bullshit. “Pull over.”

“No!” she barked, pushing on the gas pedal.

“Pull over, Lizzie. Now.” I yanked on the door handle. She grabbed my left wrist and pulled me toward her.

“Okay, Jeez. Don’t kill yourself.” She veered into the dilapidated parking lot of a vacant building. The motorcycle followed and rolled to a stop on the opposite end. I jumped from the car and marched straight for him.

“Jay!” I screamed. “Is that you?”

The man on the bike gripped the handlebars and revved the engine.

“Take off your helmet, you coward.” I had no idea what I’d do when I reached him. Hadn’t planned that far ahead. A burning ball of tired, pissed, and scared female emotions churned and swelled inside me, and so help me God, I wanted to unleash it on his pathetic ass. “Show me your face,” I commanded, waving my hands in the air like a crazy beast.

I was ten feet away when he reached into his pocket and drew out a pistol. He flipped up the visor on his helmet and smiled. “Get on the bike or I’ll shoot you dead, right here in front of your friend.”

I dug my toes into the pavement and stumbled. The false bravado that’d carried me this far waved bye-bye and flipped me the finger. My knees buckled. Lizzie screamed my name. My field of vision narrowed to only his cocky mug. He wore a pleased grin and gave all appearances of being one hundred-percent calm and in control.

Tires squealed behind me. Jay’s glare darted from my face to over my shoulder. A wide smile spread from cheek to cheek. “Well, look who we have here.”

A vice clamped around my waist and a deep, throaty voice groaned in my ear. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Franklin lifted me off my feet and twisted to station himself between me and the threat, yet again. “Get in the car,” he ordered, then fired a shot.

Jay bellowed in pain. His gun flew out of his hand and slid under a rusted, windowless van.

I stumbled and caught myself on the car door. It was a black, sporty get-up. I dove into the driver’s side and climbed over the console.

I peered out the window to Lizzie. She jumped in her Jeep and I motioned for her to drive away. The spunky, little thrill-seeker smiled and tore out of the parking lot.

I turned back to Franklin. He fired two more shots, hitting each of the motorcycle tires. Jay’s Harley sunk beneath him and teetered, throwing him off balance. He held a bleeding hand to his chest, swung his leg to clear himself of the bike, tripped and fell hard against the pavement.

Franklin slunk into his seat, shifted gears, and squealed tires down the street, closing his door only after we’d cleared a whole block.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Why the hell aren’t you at the police station?” he yelled, spraying spittle across his steering wheel. Wow. Not so pretty when he was pissed off.

My heart pounded triple time. “I wasn’t under arrest. I left. What the fuck do you care?” I didn’t like using the f-word, it never burst from my lips with enough conviction to make the right impression, but sometimes it was necessary.

Franklin cranked the steering wheel hard to the left, turning onto a side street. My shoulder slammed against the door.

“That dip-shit let you walk out of there?”

“No,” I yelled back. “Slow down. I’m getting carsick.”

He eased off the gas pedal. I lowered my window for some precious air.

“What do you mean, no?” he asked, darting his eyes back and forth from me to the road.

“I left. I wasn’t under arrest. I didn’t want to be there anymore.”

“Shit.” He snagged his cell from its dock and fingered his screen. “Waters. Yeah, I have her. No. How the fuck did she just walk out? I asked one goddamn thing. Fuck no, I’m not bringing her back. I don’t give a shit. That’s classified.” He rambled Jay’s location to Leland. “She’s my responsibility. I’ll be in touch.”

Franklin tossed his cell at my feet, rolled down his window, and took a deep breath.

Classified? “Who are you?” I swiveled to face him.

His grim expression softened. Barely. “You know who I am.”

“Who are you?” I asked again, more a demand than a question.

“The man who keeps saving your ass.” He looked my way, and I got my first glance at his face. The skin surrounding his eye boasted several shades of purple and blue. His nose definitely didn’t look right, and three large scratches stretched from his left eye to below his cheekbone. Not bad for my first shot at kicking someone’s ass. Instinct urged me to reach over and offer comfort. I tucked my hand under my leg to keep it from such betrayal.

“Why were men shooting at you?” I asked, unable to cloak the seething anger in my tone.

“They weren’t.”

“Now you’re not making sense.”

“You have to trust me.”

“How in the world can you ask me to do that? Why is there a collage of me on your wall?”

Franklin’s lips drew into a tight line. The muscles in his jaw protruded.

“Classified?” I asked, fed up with the way the conversation was going.

“Yes.”

My pressure gage blew. I buried my face in my hands and screamed. “Take me back to the police station. I can’t be near you. I’d rather rot in a cell.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” His voice remained calm.

I pulled on the door handle. “I’ll jump out if you don’t start talking. Why were men shooting at you?”

“They weren’t aiming for me, Killer. You were the target.”

Franklin pulled a syringe from the pocket of his jacket and jabbed the bugger into my thigh. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s for your own good.”

A flush of heat spread through my leg. I yelped, searched his eyes in confused shock, and wrapped my hand around his as he pushed the plunger of the needle. He blurred. “I hate you….”

* * * *

It took some effort and time to bring my surroundings into focus.
A violent shiver forced my eyes closed. My teeth rattled. Warm hands rubbed my arms and back. “Relax. The anesthetic should be out of your system soon.”

What? I tried to push away but my muscles wouldn’t cooperate.

“Don’t fight me right now, love. Just let me warm you.”

A surplus of vehement retorts bubbled at the back of my throat, but my jaw clenched tight with the shudders tearing through me. Heavy blankets cocooned both me and the man holding me with fierce resolve, yet I’d never been so cold, like I’d plunged naked into a tub of ice.

“Why?” I forced the question through chattering teeth.

“To keep you safe.”

He lied. It didn’t make sense. He knocked me out to keep me safe?

“B-b-b-astard. K-k-kidnapping.”

“Jesus, baby. I didn’t kidnap you. You shouldn’t have left the police station. You were safe there. You left me no choice but to bring you here.”

I hadn’t been safe since our first weekend together. Through the drug haze clouding my head, one truth sliced through the fog—he’d saved my life. Jay had pointed a gun at my face and Franklin Reed had appeared from nowhere to rescue me. My heart hurt, rage boiled in my guts, but I lay protected and unafraid in this stranger’s arms.

Franklin rubbed my skin fast and hard, the friction warming my outsides. His scent, mixed with that heady voice, thawed me from the inside. “I know you’re confused.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get you warm, then we’ll talk.”

Oh, we were going to talk, he could be damn sure—as soon as I could move my mouth again, and force my mind out of the gutter, which wasn’t easy considering the large erection tucked against my belly.

I shifted my hips away from him in protest. “M-my d-daddy would-d k-kill you,” I managed to sputter.

Franklin sighed and trembled himself. “He would. But not for the reason you think.”

What was that supposed to mean? More cryptic mumbo jumbo spurting from his lips. I couldn’t take anymore. I’d been spied on, shot at, lied to, accused of murder, witnessed gruesome acts of violence, deflowered, and now kidnapped in the course of two short weeks. How much was a girl supposed to take?

I dug deep and forced my arms and legs to move. Inside our tight blanket burrito, I kicked and shoved and wiggled out of Franklin’s embrace. “Get off me,” I screamed. “Let go.”

I wrestled myself free and shoved the shirtless man off the bed. He landed with a hard thud. “Goddamn, Tate,” he shouted and pushed to his feet.

I rolled off the other side and stood on wobbly legs, wrapping the comforter around myself. My throat closed up tight when I noticed a trail of blood oozing down his left arm. He cupped his shoulder with the other hand and slumped against the wall behind him.

“Why are you bleeding?” I asked, not sure if I was happy or worried to see him in pain.

“It’s nothing,” he grunted.

I looked around the unfamiliar room. “Where are we?”

“Safe house.” He nailed me with a murderous glare.

“Why in the hell are we in a safe house? What have you gotten me into?” I struck back with an equally fierce scowl.

Franklin’s chest rose and fell in rapid bursts. Face pale, his steely eyes shot daggers straight at my heart. He pushed off the wall and stalked toward me.

“Don’t come any closer,” I warned as I backed away.

He grabbed a shirt off the bed and pressed it to his arm. “Sit down.”

I shook my head no.

Franklin pointed to a chair in the corner of the room. “Sit the fuck down, now.”

I jumped at the fierce snap in his tone but stood my ground. The door was only a few feet away. Could I reach it fast enough?

“That wouldn’t be a wise move, love.” He nodded toward the only exit. “It’d only piss me off, and right now, I’d have no problem tying your ass to this bed.”

Franklin reached for the door, slammed it shut, and pressed his back against the dark wood. Then he slid to the floor and draped his arms over his knees. He didn’t take his eyes off me for a blink.

I couldn’t peel mine from him, either. Shirtless and bleeding. What a sight. Muscles low in my belly warmed. Fire danced across my cheeks. It was unsettling, the power he had over me.

I licked the dryness from my lips. “Why are you bleeding?” I asked with a whisper.

“Bullet grazed my shoulder,” he snapped.

“Last night?” I asked, choking down unwanted emotions.

His eyes softened and he nodded. “It’s not bad. Didn’t even need stitches.”

“I’m losing my mind, Franklin. You have to tell me what’s going on.”

He glanced to the ceiling, then rested his gaze on me again. “There are people after you.”

Absurd? Yes. I almost laughed in disgust, but I needed to hear his explanation. “Why?”

“Leverage,” he mumbled.

“Leverage for what?”

“To use against a man who held the power to destroy them. A dead man who knew too much.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Rumors surfaced months ago that this man faked his own death. If the rumors were true, the one sure way to get to him is through those he loves.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you on crack? Mentally unstable? This isn’t an action movie. This is my life, and from the moment I let you in, it’s gone to shit. Why are you doing this to me? Why?”

“I’m protecting you.” Fury backed his words.

“From you? Because from where I’m standing—”

“From them,” he cut me off.

“You’re being cryptic.”

He dropped his head between his arms. His fist clenched and unclenched, causing a rippling of muscle from wrist to elbow.

I growled in frustration, drew the blanket tighter around my body, and stormed toward him. “Who’s the man? Who’s the dead bastard, Franklin? Stop dicking around with me.” I dropped to my knees in front of him.

I’d remember that moment for as long as I lived. Franklin raised his head. Eyes glistening with raw emotion. He grabbed my chin and captured me with a gaze so full of anguish my heart stopped beating.

“Tony Wood,” he rasped. “Your father.”

A nauseating swirl of shock and fury churned in my psyche. The room darkened, and my line of sight narrowed to Franklin’s eyes. Eyes that burned with fierce resolve.

I hated him. I hated him. I hated him.

“Don’t you dare bring my father into this sick perverted game you’re playing.” I slashed my hand across his face. He grunted, then caught my wrist in his powerful fist. Before I knew it, I was flat on my back, straddled by hard thighs, with my hands pinned above my head.

“Stop hitting me,” he warned, lips hovering dangerously close to mine.

I turned, unable to bear the ominous force of his glare, and bucked beneath him.

“Look at me.” He pulled both my wrists into one hand and pulled my face back to his with the other. “Look at me. I’m tired of the fucking secrets, too. I’m done hiding from you.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. When they opened again, something in me broke. The pain he wore wrapped around my soul and squeezed until it burst into a million minuscule pieces.

“Tony taught me everything I know. Everything I am, is because of him.” Jagged breaths warmed my face.

“I’m a killer, Tate. Like your father.” He searched my eyes. He’d just ripped my world apart. What did he expect to find other than devastation? I tried to hold the tears at bay. They refused to cooperate.

Franklin continued. “Tony recruited me the day I graduated high school. He said I had a fire that few people possessed. The agency didn’t hire people so young, especially with no military background. Tony fought for me. Went over a few heads, promised them I’d be the best. He was right, too.”

“You’re lying,” I cried. “My father didn’t kill people. He was a business consultant. He didn’t have a secret life….” A memory crashed down on me like a tidal wave. One I’d tucked away and had long forgotten.