Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2021

by Anna J. Stewart

“I’m not the only one who’s jumpy.”

  “Right.” He shook out his arms and then stretched his neck. “Sorry about bursting in here like that. I heard voices and—”

  “Mine. I talk to myself when I’m working sometimes. I’ll have to be more careful to whisper in the future.”

  Travis shifted his feet. “No. It’s your office. It’s just—I don’t know.”

  “It was nice to know that the cavalry would come if I ever call out for help.”

  Frowning, he glanced out the window again toward his own office on the opposite side of the courtyard. “I don’t know what we were thinking when we designed this building where you can see inside the offices.”

  “Transparency, maybe?”

  “We might have considered that there’s no place to work in privacy. No place to even think.”

  “Did it bother you before?” she couldn’t help asking.

  He shook his head but didn’t look back. “Things change.”

  Neither had to mention that her arrival at Colton Plastics was the biggest recent development, one that appeared to have thrown the company on its ear.

  “I’ve asked Jan to schedule for the decorator to order blinds for our two offices.” He shrugged. “The designers wanted to do that from the beginning, but I thought it ruined the aesthetic.”

  “Good idea” was all she could say. She hated that he was making so many changes to the company for her benefit, but she couldn’t deny his actions reassured her.

  Finally, he stepped away from the window. “Were you able to get any work done this afternoon?”

  He scanned her desk, his gaze falling on the laptop that she’d closed and pushed to the corner.

  “Some.” She pointed to the two stacks of paper. “I’m ready for Jan to schedule interviews.”

  “At least one of us finished something.” He indicated one of her visitors’ chairs with a flick of his hand. “You mind?”

  She shook her head. He sat and pointed to the piles of résumés.

  “Maybe you were more productive because of that nap you had on the way back to the office.”

  She dipped her chin. “I still can’t believe that I fell asleep. One minute I was mulling over the things Ellie said, and the next you were waking me up at the CP loading dock.”

  “With a bit of drool on the corner of your mouth,” he said with a smile.

  “You weren’t supposed to notice that.”

  He probably hadn’t intended for her to see the tenderness in his eyes when she’d awakened, either, but she had. Her heart still fluttered at the memory of it, though she still wasn’t certain what it meant.

  “I hope you didn’t sit in the parking lot, waiting for me to wake up. I can sleep pretty hard when I’m tired.”

  “To be fair, it was only for a few minutes,” he admitted.

  It was the second time in two days he’d watched her sleep, and yet she didn’t feel creeped out by it. In fact, she found it almost comforting. As if she would be okay knowing that Travis Colton was the one watching over her. She was a strong, independent woman. Since when did she like the idea of having a protector?

  “You might have been fighting against your exhaustion, but our growing baby won.”

  And there it was, the reason for his attentiveness. The baby. She should have been grateful, she supposed. Some guys denied paternity, and Travis had been on board from the moment she’d told him, even without a DNA test. She needed to remember that everything he was doing—the proposal, the offer of shelter, all of it—was for their child. Those were all good things, but she couldn’t allow herself to think that he might care about her, too. Travis Colton might have offered her marriage but never love.

  “How’s the belly feeling?”

  Automatically, her hands moved to her abdomen, which had become an unfortunate habit in the past two days. She had to stop that if she planned to keep the pregnancy a secret.

  “You know, after the fast foodfest.”

  She nodded. “You should be a medium. You did a great job at predicting the future.”

  “I’ll remember that if Colton Plastics goes under.”

  “Don’t even joke about things like that,” she said. “Do you want to tempt fate?”

  She knocked on her wooden desktop in a superstitious tradition, and he leaned forward and did the same.

  “Hope it wasn’t too bad.”

  “The fate tempting?”

  He shook his head. “The indigestion.”

  She pulled out the trash can from beneath her desk and tilted it so he could see inside.

  Wrappers from both sleeves of saltines that she’d brought from the condo that morning were crumpled at the bottom.

  “At least it wasn’t what I thought you might be showing me.”

  She frowned over his lame joke.

  “Sorry you’ve been feeling crummy. I’ll make us something healthy when we get, uh, back to the house.”

  He’d almost said home, and the word rang hollow in her ears, anyway. She no longer had a place she’d come from or where she could return when she needed to recharge. Though she’d been back in Grave Gulch for days, she hadn’t been able to drive by the old place that her father had sold right after her mother’s death. At least she had a place to stay until they tracked down whoever had sent the email, but his home wasn’t and would never be her home.

  Travis cleared his throat, possibly realizing that he’d touched on a sensitive subject.

  “You know what I’ve been doing all afternoon?” He waited for her to shake her head before continuing. “Digging through employee records down in HR.”

  Relieved for the change in subject, she glanced up at him again. “You don’t mean physical records, do you? Don’t we have all that stuff on the company network in the encrypted files?”

  “They are. But if someone has hacked into the network, we don’t want them to see where we’ve been looking. We keep a physical copy of employment records in the locked file room.”

  “Good idea avoiding the network.”

  At that, he smiled. “I’d thought so, too, until the head of HR started hanging around asking me if she could help me find what I was looking for.”

  “Find out anything?”

  “Other than employees paranoid they’re going to lose their jobs? No.” He scooted the chair closer to her desk and planted both elbows on it. “I looked at all the men, and nothing seemed to be off in anyone’s backgrounds. It still could be one of them.”

  “What about the women?”

  “I haven’t looked yet, but I will.” He closed his eyes and shook his head before opening them again. “I still get the idea that it’s a guy.”

  “Or someone who wants us to think so.”

  “We’ll also have to take extra precautions at work to ensure you’re not alone with any of the employees, except for Jan or me—and your own assistant, once you have him or her in place.”

  Travis shook his head. “I hate to think someone got past one of our screeners. We check references, work histories, and social media profiles. We always try to root out any potential problems before we bring candidates in for interviews.”

  “It doesn’t always work, though.” She shrugged. “The board hired me.”

  He leaned forward and met her gaze. “You had my recommendation. And I wasn’t wrong.”

  “Your father would probably disagree,” she said with a chuckle.

  “I wasn’t wrong,” he repeated.

  She searched his eyes, but he didn’t crack a smile as he stared steadily at her. Finally, she had to look away from the intensity of his gaze. Whether his determination came from his opposition to his father or his support of her, she wasn’t sure, but how could he not see that bringing her into Colton Plastics was probably the biggest mistake of his professional life? Just like
taking him into bed had been her worst mistake, personally and professionally, no matter how deeply they’d seemed to connect at the time.

  Travis sank back into the chair, folded his arms and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought your dad into this discussion. I wasn’t playing fair, and he had nothing to do with it.”

  He shrugged and then uncrossed his arms. “You’re probably right about what he would think, anyway.”

  Travis laced his fingers and glanced over at the line of windows again, likely seeing images in his memories instead of whatever was outside. An idea that had been playing at the periphery of her thoughts came into clear focus then.

  “If you were in HR, you should have been able to see the parking lot from those windows,” she said. “Were there still a lot of reporters out there?”

  “Yeah. Some. Fewer even than this morning, though. They might not be here because they’re at my condo, waiting for us to return from the office.”

  She hoped that wasn’t the case, but it was a possibility. “Or maybe they’re hanging around the police station, waiting for your sister to give an update on the murder from yesterday.”

  After standing up slowly to avoid the head rush, she collected both piles of résumés. “Wait here. I’m going to drop these off with Jan and have her shred the extras.”

  He started to stand as well, but she gestured for him to stay seated. “Just stick around. I’ll be right back.”

  She did as she said, hurrying to the opposite side of the building and returning only minutes later.

  “Okay, what did you want to talk about?” Travis asked as she moved to her seat.

  Instead of answering immediately, Tatiana grabbed the laptop and lifted its lid.

  “Better pull the chair closer,” she said.

  Though she’d signed into her email on the new laptop, she avoided checking her messages again. This was more important for her to take care of right now. Travis had done so much for her, from preparing healthy meals to checking in on her at work to that drive out of town to meet Ellie. It was time she did something for him.

  “Why? Are you making another list?”

  “No, I have to write a statement, and I’ll need your help.”

  “I don’t think this is how it’s done, though,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I try to know as little about this subject as possible, but to make a statement to police you have to be in the presence of an actual police officer.”

  She opened the document and started typing. “Good thing it’s not that type of statement.”

  He tilted his head, squinting. “Then what is it?”

  “It’s time for me to speak formally to the press.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Just before five o’clock, Travis reluctantly stood at the revolving door in Colton Plastics’ huge, slate-tiled lobby. Outside, several reporters were perched on curbs, probably freezing as they ate their dinners from takeout containers and talked. In minutes, they would pop up as his employees rushed out the front door and tried to escape without being cornered and questioned.

  “You’re sure you still want to do this?” he said over his shoulder to Tatiana, who was behind him.

  She didn’t look up from the document they’d prepared together. “Yes, I’m sure. Relax. It’ll be fine.”

  She wasn’t even peeking around him at the wolves about to devour her. Instead, she waved at the two day-shift security guards, who were getting more entertainment than they’d had all day.

  “Listen,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You’re used to controlled trials in an engineering lab. You won’t have any command over what happens once you step out in front of them. They could ask you anything. Anything. And if you don’t answer it, you’ll be on camera not commenting on it.”

  She held her gloved hands wide. “I can do this. Trust me.”

  “I do trust you. I don’t them.”

  “You sound like my dad before I went out on my first date.”

  He glanced back in time to see her eyes widen over what she’d said.

  “We can still bail,” he suggested.

  “I want to do this. I’m sick of riding in the back of a cargo van.”

  He would have asked her what the van had to do with her stepping out in public this way, but a few of the reporters and camera operators started shifting outside as if someone had seen them.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  They stepped through the revolving door. Once outside, they continued together down the walk to the area where the press had been kept at a distance with lighted barricades. Reporters, some familiar, some not, rushed up with either their notebooks or huge microphones.

  “Good evening. I’m Travis Colton, founder and co-CEO of Colton Plastics. Our new co-CEO will be reading a prepared statement, and then she will take a few questions.” Or none, if he had anything to say about it. “So, I’ll turn this over to Tatiana.”

  She stepped in front of the collection of microphones. “Hello.”

  Immediately, she bent her head to look at the statement in her hands, appearing nervous and stiff.

  “My name is Tatiana Davison—”

  “Hey, Tatiana,” someone called from the back. “What’s it like to have a dad who’s a serial killer?”

  She froze, her eyes wide, her jaw slack. But movement continued all around her as other reporters, freed from the decorum of a press conference, began to shout questions at her from all directions.

  Travis held up both hands to stop the noise. “Please allow Tatiana to speak, or we will end this press conference immediately.”

  Finally, the crowd quieted.

  “Read,” he said in a low voice.

  She blinked several times, then lifted the folder and started reading again. But he knew her well-crafted statement had already lost its impact. No matter what she said then, the TV footage would show the deer-in-the-headlights look that had flashed across her face when that awful question was lobbed at her.

  “Please allow me to address the situation involving my father, Len Davison. Grave Gulch Police have informed me that my father is wanted for questioning regarding a murder that took place in Grave Gulch Park.”

  As she continued to read, her voice became stronger, and her shoulders straightened. This was the image she’d wanted to portray to reporters and the public. The one they’d planned. He couldn’t have been prouder of her for that recovery. Still, his hands twitched as he searched the crowd for the reporter who asked that awful question. Good thing he couldn’t identify the guy, or no one would have been able to guarantee that hack’s safety.

  “Also, be aware that all Americans, including my father, are entitled to a fair trial,” she continued. “He has not been convicted of any crime.

  “I ask that you please respect my privacy during this challenging time for my family. Also, please refrain from questioning Colton Plastics employees regarding this private matter. Thank you.”

  Travis leaned into the microphone. “Now we have time for a few appropriate questions.”

  A familiar woman with an olive complexion and a long black ponytail stepped in front of the others and extended a tiny microphone.

  “Ms. Davison, I’m Dominique de la Vega, investigative reporter for the Grave Gulch Gazette. Can you tell me if you’ve spoken with Len Davison since his release in December, following the disappearance of compelling DNA evidence connecting him to the murder of Vincent Gully? And are you familiar with a GGPD forensic scientist named Randall Bowe?”

  “Uh. I don’t think—” Tatiana shook her head. “Sorry. Could you repeat the question?”

  Dominique dutifully asked again.

  “Um, no, I haven’t. And, yes, I have been informed about the case ag
ainst Mr. Bowe.”

  Travis held his breath as she answered the second question about Bowe. The strange thing was that though he didn’t know all of her story, he sensed that Tatiana had lied when answering the first question. The one about speaking to her dad. If that was true, she’d also lied to him.

  After a few more questions that Tatiana handled better than the first two, Travis ended the press conference and ushered her back inside the building.

  “That went okay, right?”

  She squinted as she asked it, hinting that even she recognized it hadn’t been a perfect appearance. He was tempted to take her in his arms and comfort her—and also to shake her for talking him into conducting a press conference when she wasn’t close to ready. He had resolved to hire a public relations director for CP. If he’d had one already—and that director had allowed the two co-CEOs to make that appearance—Travis would have fired the guy on the spot.

  “It wasn’t bad, right?”

  Tatiana lowered her head as she trudged past the elevator to the stairs. “Then it must have been even worse that I thought it was...and I thought it was awful.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said from behind her as he climbed. “Someone lobbed a verbal grenade at you for your first question, then they didn’t even step up and take credit for it.”

  She reached the second-floor landing and turned back to him. “I should have expected it, though. Maybe wrapped up in pretty, distant words, but I should have known that question was coming and had a response ready.”

  “That would have been a good idea.”

  Travis followed her as she returned to her office and they both dropped down in the seats they’d occupied earlier. “I shouldn’t have rushed it,” she admitted, planting her elbows on her desk. “Obviously, I had to speak to them at some point, but I should have waited until I was ready. Really ready.”

  Because she would get no argument from him on that point, he didn’t say anything at all. Like he’d told her, he’d made no mistake in recommending her for the position of co-CEO, but he couldn’t say the same for so many of the decisions he’d made involving her since then.

  “Do you think they’re going to trash me on the nightly news?” she asked after a long pause.