Betrayed Page 2

  Elena felt Gallagher stiffen, pretty sure he didn’t much like the scrutiny, either. As he eased away from her, she reached out a hand to steady herself against the sink and realized with a start that she and the two security men were standing in the ladies’ room. Truly, she didn’t even remember coming in here.

  “Elena had some blood spatter. We were cleaning her up, and she got a little shaky,” Gallagher said.

  “Yeah,” Iverson answered. He flicked his gaze to the front of her blouse, then back to the security chief. “I thought you were going to get killed, bursting in there like that. I mean, dangling outside the window and then crashing through with those steel-tipped boots. And your bulletproof vest wouldn’t have saved you if Duckworth had aimed for your head.”

  Chapter 2

  “Elena knocked his aim off,” Shane said, even when he knew his second-in-command was right.

  Iverson cleared his throat. “Maybe we should all get out of the ladies’ room. I’m guessing you don’t want to meet up with Kinkead in here.”

  Shane grimaced and ushered Elena into the hall.

  He’d done a quick review of Duckworth’s file, then plunged ahead with his crazy rescue plan because he’d determined it had the best chance of getting the hostages out of the HR department alive. Still, he wasn’t looking forward to a face-to-face with Lincoln Kinkead now that the crisis was over. When he’d come up with the idea of going in through the window, he’d thought the S&D president was going to blow a gasket.

  It had been a risky plan, but Shane had started enjoying risks since he’d realized he had nobody but himself to worry about. And when he’d spotted Elena Reyes watching him through the window, he’d been sure she was going to help him.

  “Speak of the devil,” Bert whispered as a tall, balding man in his late fifties strode around the corner. It was Lincoln Kinkead, wearing his usual Savile Row suit and Italian shoes. In the aftermath of the hostage crisis, his face was slightly flushed.

  “Gallagher,” Kinkead barked. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Once he heard the reassurance, he continued, “We’ll talk about that stunt later.”

  “You want me to pay for the window?” Shane asked.

  Kinkead swung toward him. “I have insurance. The window’s not the issue.”

  Bert inserted himself into the conversation. “It was an unconventional approach, but it worked. Really, you’re lucky Shane was willing to try it. All the hostages could have gotten killed.”

  “The usual procedure is to negotiate with the hostage taker,” Kinkead snapped.

  “Do you think that would have worked with Duckworth?” Iverson asked.

  “No,” the S&D president conceded. “We could all hear him coming apart at the seams. He was winding himself up for the slaughter—before he took his own life.”

  “And you would have hated the negative publicity,” Bert said.

  Kinkead nodded.

  “This way, it’s a win for the company.”

  “Yeah.”

  When he heard that dispassionate assessment, Shane dragged in a breath and let it out, relieved to be off the hook for the moment.

  The S&D president turned to Elena, looking at the blood on her blouse. “And you’re all right, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “We all heard you get Duckworth’s attention.”

  “Then she tackled him,” Shane added.

  “He was going to shoot Mr. Gallagher.”

  “Right.” Kinkead’s gaze flicked to Shane, then back to Elena. “That was very brave of you.”

  She raised one shoulder. “I guess it was instinctive.”

  Kinkead cleared his throat. Still addressing Elena, he said, “We have several mental health professionals on call. You might want to contact one of them tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You went through a pretty rough experience. Talking to a professional about it could help put it in perspective.”

  She looked uncertain. “I’m okay.”

  “Just keep it in mind. I’m making the same offer to everyone involved. There’s nothing wrong with getting some professional help.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, but Shane was rather sure from her reaction that she didn’t want to let a therapist into her head.

  “The police and the press are waiting to speak to both of you,” Kinkead said.

  “The press?” she breathed, looking panicked.

  The S&D chief gave her a reassuring smile. “You know how these things work. When there’s a dangerous situation, the media are all over it. It would be almost impossible for you and Shane to get out of here without making a statement. You’re both heroes.”

  A man with a lined face joined the group. He had a salt-and-pepper buzz cut and was wearing a rumpled tweed sport coat and gray slacks.

  “This is Detective Langley,” Kinkead said. “He wants to get a statement from you. Why don’t we go down to my office?”

  Shane nodded, staying beside Elena as they took the elevator to the second-floor executive offices.

  “As soon as I heard about the blood spatter, I had my assistant run out to Lord and Taylor,” Kinkead said to Elena. “She’s getting you a blouse you can wear instead of that ruined one.”

  “Thank you.”

  Shane was in the middle of explaining his surprise attack to the detective when Penny Martin, an attractive young blond, came into the office with a shopping bag and took Elena to the executive washroom.

  Shane watched them leave as he continued his explanation.

  “Risky but effective,” Langley said, then asked some detailed questions.

  When Elena came back, she was wearing a royal-blue blouse that set off her Hispanic good looks. As Shane gave her the once-over, she flushed, and he looked away. He was still remembering holding her in his arms, something he hadn’t thought he’d be doing. But when her adrenaline had stopped pumping, and she’d started wobbling on those slender legs of hers, he’d instinctively reached for her and pulled her close.

  After finishing with Shane, Langley got a brief synopsis of the whole incident from Elena and said he might have more questions later.

  “And now the media,” Kinkead said.

  “What should I say?” Elena asked.

  “Just tell them your role in what happened. It can be brief.”

  “Why were you up in HR?” Shane asked.

  Her gaze swung to him. “They were having trouble with some of their computer equipment.”

  He nodded. He’d check that out when he had some time.

  “The sooner we satisfy the press, the sooner you can get out of here,” Kinkead said.

  “All right,” Elena agreed, but Shane could feel her tension.

  Because she was nervous about being put in the spotlight, or because she had something to hide?

  He gave himself a mental shake, annoyed that he was suspicious of her under these circumstances, but he couldn’t help it. He was suspicious by nature. His job made him suspicious. And he couldn’t help thinking that Elena Reyes might have something to do with the problem he’d been hired to solve at S&D.

  They all moved to the lobby of the building, and Shane was surprised to find it had gotten dark while they’d been in the executive offices. Camera crews were standing by, spotlights were aimed at the front entrance of the building, and reporters ringed the door.

  Elena gave him a panicked look, and he reached for her hand, squeezing it and feeling the cold of her fingers.

  When he stroked his finger across her palm, he felt a little shiver go through her. “This isn’t worse than being held hostage at gunpoint, is it?” he whispered.

  She laughed. “If you put it that way, I guess not.”

  “So let’s get it over with.” He let go of her hand, and
they stepped outside. Kinkead walked to the microphone and made a brief statement about what had happened, ending with:

  “Thanks to the fast thinking of Elena Reyes and the courageous intervention of Shane Gallagher, the hostages were rescued quickly.”

  “What about the woman who was shot?” a reporter called out.

  “She’s in serious but stable condition,” Kinkead answered.

  As his boss talked, Shane scanned the crowd. In the back he could see his two partners and friends, Jack Brandt and Max Lyon. They’d met a little over a year ago when they’d all been in Miami and had all gotten caught in a drug raid at a local nightclub. Along with a bunch of drunk and disorderly guys, they’d been taken to police headquarters and held overnight at the Miami jail.

  The three of them had kept order in the holding cell all night. And when they were released in the morning, they’d gone out for a beer and started talking. It turned out that Jack was a former Navy SEAL. Shane had been in the Army Investigative Service. And Max had been a detective in Howard County, Maryland.

  When they discovered that they were all currently unemployed with similar skill sets, they’d come up with the idea of starting the Rockfort Security Agency. And since they were all from Maryland, they’d located the agency in Rockville, outside D.C., where they could get a deal on the rent. And they’d made a success of the venture.

  Shane knew his two friends were staying at the back of the crowd because he was working undercover at S&D. Lincoln Kinkead had hired Rockfort to find out who was trying to steal proprietary information from his company, and Shane had taken the job as security chief, which put him in an excellent position to poke into all of the personnel files.

  Shane’s mind snapped back to the present as Kinkead said he was turning the interview over to him.

  He stepped to the microphone and told about his rescue plan.

  “What if you’d failed?” a reporter asked. “Wouldn’t the hostages have been in more danger?”

  “I didn’t plan to fail,” Shane answered, thinking that probably sounded too arrogant.

  After taking a few more questions, he ushered Elena to the microphone. She looked pale but resolute.

  “I was one of the hostages,” she began and told about being held captive by Duckworth.

  “And she held his attention while I came in the window,” Shane added.

  “Were you scared, Ms. Reyes?” someone shouted.

  “Of course. But I thought Mr. Gallagher was our best chance to get out of there alive.”

  He stayed with her while she answered a few more questions. But he knew she didn’t want to prolong the ordeal, so he cut off the interview quickly.

  “Thanks for getting me out of there,” she said as they went back into the building. “Well, actually, thanks for getting us all out of the HR department.”

  He laughed. “All in a day’s work.”

  “Oh, sure.”

  She looked outside at the reporters who were still gathered around the entrance. “Unfortunately, I still have to get to my car and get out of here.”

  “I can retrieve your car. And you can meet me at the back of the building.”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course. Give me your keys.”

  She fumbled in her purse for her keys. “It’s a burgundy Honda,” she told him. “About five rows from the front.”

  Max and Jack looked at him questioningly as he headed into the parking lot.

  “I’m getting Elena’s car for her. I’ll meet you back at the office.”

  The two men departed, and he got into the Honda.

  Elena was waiting for him at the loading dock.

  “Thanks for doing this,” she said as he climbed out of the vehicle.

  “You still look worried.”

  “The next ordeal will be talking to my parents.”

  “Why?”

  She shook her head. “We’re from San Marcos, where it was dangerous to call attention to yourself. They’re not going to like it that I was on TV.”

  He knew she was from the Central American country, but he pretended that he hadn’t perused her personnel file.

  “But it’s not for anything bad. You’re a hero. They should be proud of you.”

  “In their minds, it won’t matter,” she said as she climbed into the vehicle and drove away.

  He watched her disappear into the darkness, thinking that he would have liked to spend some time with her—decompressing after the ordeal. Then he canceled the thought.

  He was attracted to her, but that couldn’t get in the way of his investigation. And because of her position in the IT department, she was high on his suspect list.

  Chapter 3

  “Nothing like relaxing with a beer after almost getting shot,” Shane said as he kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the scarred table in the Rockfort offices, conveniently located in an industrial park not far from S&D.

  “I guess you weren’t counting on a nutcase trying to take down the HR department,” Max Lyon said dryly.

  “Not hardly. But like I told Bert Iverson, all’s well that ends well.”

  “You don’t think you were taking a chance rappelling down the building and crashing through the window?” Jack Brandt asked.

  Shane took another swig of beer and gave Jack a pointed look. “You mean like you were taking a chance invading a nut-ball militia group a few months ago?”

  “I wouldn’t do it now,” Jack said.

  “Because you were redeemed by the love of a good woman,” Shane shot back.

  “Is that bad?”

  “It worked out okay for you. I got burned by my ex, and I’m not looking to repeat the experience.”

  “That doesn’t mean all women are bad.”

  “It means I’m not going to get fooled again,” he said, punching out the words.

  When he saw Jack open his mouth, then close it, he was relieved his friend had decided to drop the subject.

  Max jumped into the conversation. “Lincoln Kinkead owes you one for stopping that lunatic before he shot anyone else.”

  “Kinkead wasn’t exactly happy about my methods. I thought he might fire me before Bert Iverson pointed out that I’d saved a bunch of lives.”

  “You did. What was Kinkead’s objection?”

  Shane laughed. “He doesn’t like what he considers hotdogging. Plus I don’t think he liked my calling attention to myself.”

  Max shook his head. “So you won’t climb the outside of his building again.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  “We haven’t talked to you in a couple of days. Are you making any progress on your main mission?”

  “There’s nothing new.”

  S&D developed software for the business and financial community. Their biggest product was an office software package that was giving Microsoft a run for its money. But they had something in development that was rumored to be a blockbuster.

  Lincoln Kinkead had come to Rockfort after one of his employees, a man named Arnold Blake, was murdered. Blake had worked in the IT department, and Kinkead suspected he’d been trying to steal the specs for the new hush-hush product. It was something called Falcon’s Flight. Shane had no idea what it was, and Kinkead had kept the information to himself.

  Shane was working on the theory that Blake had been murdered because he refused to turn over the material he’d stolen to the people who had hired him.

  But that wasn’t the end of it. Kinkead was sure that whoever wanted Falcon’s Flight was making another try for it, substantiated by evidence that someone had recently been poking into the company’s product files without authorization.

  “Do you think today’s events are related to the Arnold Blake murder?” Max asked.

  “It doesn’t seem like it, but I guess I’d better check to see
if there’s any connection between Blake and Duckworth. The only thing I know now is that whoever’s tiptoeing around in the development files again is very skillful and very careful—and you couldn’t say that for Duckworth. His style was more like clomping around in jackboots.”

  “You said you don’t think it’s someone in development.”

  “They’re all squeaky clean.”

  “But that woman who saved your butt—Elena Reyes. Isn’t she one of your suspects?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Interesting that she got herself into the middle of that mess.”

  “She says she was in the HR department on business and didn’t know Duckworth was going to come in waving a gun.”

  “You’re sure there’s no connection between them?”

  “What would be her motive for walking into danger?”

  “To get to know you better,” Max answered.

  “She didn’t know I was going to show up.”

  “She probably had a good idea you weren’t going to leave a bunch of innocent people twisting in the wind.”

  Shane shrugged. He wouldn’t discount anything, but he wasn’t going out of his way to manufacture a devious scenario for Elena. Or was he?

  ***

  Elena’s stomach was in knots as she pulled up in the driveway of her parents’ modest ranch house on a dead-end street in Germantown. When she saw one of the front curtains drop back into place, she knew her mother had been looking out the window, watching for her to arrive—sure that she was coming over as soon as she could get away from the media.

  She had thought about going back to her apartment and changing her clothes first. Then she’d told herself that her parents would be worried and would want to talk to her.

  Still, she couldn’t keep her nerves from jumping as she climbed out of her car.

  The front door opened as she hurried up the walk, but nobody came out. After taking a steadying breath, she stepped inside, and her mother closed the door.

  Both her parents had been in the living room, which was furnished with a love seat, two low-slung side chairs, and a flat-screen television on a chest at the side of the room. It was tuned to CNN. Elena glanced from the TV to her parents. Both of them looked old for their years. Her mother’s dark hair was streaked with gray, and her father had lost most of his hair, so that only a thin fringe clung to the back of his skull.