She tried to work through the logic of that and took the chair next to him. “But one of them might have stolen the info about the project from the lab. One of them could already have way too much information.”
Jordan’s gaze came to hers. “Good. I hope that’s the case. Then, the two of them can fight it out.”
Yes. That would be a godsend. Heck, they might even turn their attention to Brenna Martel in prison. Kinley didn’t care as long as the men weren’t around to endanger Gus. Finally, she could find a happy ending for all of this.
Well, maybe.
“And if they still believe I have the antidote?” she questioned.
“Then, I have a backup plan.” He swiveled his chair in her direction. “Do you have any idea what I used to do for a living?”
It seemed an odd question, especially since she’d followed him for days. “Of course. You owned Sentron.”
“I’ve killed people, Kinley,” he flatly stated. “I’ve been ruthless. Cutthroat. All within the parameters of the law. But barely,” he added.
She certainly hadn’t thought he was a boy scout, but that caused her a moment of uneasiness. Then she reminded herself that she trusted him.
“I can go head-to-head with Burke, Strahan or both, and I can win,” Jordan continued. “But what I can’t do is put Gus at risk. You understand what I’m saying?”
Afraid of the answer, she shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“If things don’t go as planned tonight, if I can’t get one hundred percent assurance that these men will back off, then I have to move Gus immediately. I have to send him out of the country.”
I’ll go with him, was her first thought.
Oh, God, was her second.
Because she couldn’t go with Gus. The danger would just follow her, and her son. She’d already done that to him once and couldn’t do it again.
“How long would he have to be gone?” But she waved off any response. She knew how this had to play out. As long as the research for the antidote was still missing, then she couldn’t be with Gus.
“I’m sorry.” Jordan slid his hand over hers. “I’ve gone over this all day, and I can’t figure out another way.”
Then, giving Burke and Strahan her encrypted notes would have to work. Because the idea of not seeing her son broke her heart. This had to end soon.
“Kinley?” Jordan said. He leaned over and slipped his arm around her. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to Gus.” And he hugged her.
The hug barely lasted a second because a buzzing sound came from the console. Jordan eased away from her, took a deep breath and pressed a button. On the screen she saw not one car but two approach the warehouse. A moment later, Jordan’s cell phone rang.
“Burke,” Jordan answered after glancing at the caller ID screen. He zoomed in on the vehicles. “Yes, that’s Martin Strahan behind you. I thought it would be beneficial if we all talked face-to-face.”
Kinley couldn’t hear exactly what Burke was saying, but judging from Jordan’s expression, the man wasn’t pleased with the additional guest at this meeting. Tough. Kinley wasn’t pleased with this entire situation. Well, except for the fact that she had Jordan by her side. As bad as all of this was, she couldn’t imagine getting through this without him.
She froze.
Repeated that to herself.
And mentally groaned.
She was falling for him. Not good. The last man she’d gotten involved with had nearly gotten her killed. Besides, she needed to focus on her son and not a relationship. Even if a relationship was exactly what her heart and body thought she needed.
Jordan ended the call and pressed a button that opened the door where they’d driven in. The two cars pulled in and parked behind the Porsche.
“They’re alone?” she asked, watching as both men exited their cars.
“They appear to be. I have an infrared monitor, and I’m not picking up any additional heat sources in either of their vehicles.”
So, maybe they would play by Jordan’s rules.
Burke had stepped from his car first. Then Strahan. Burke spared Strahan a glance—a frosty one—before he looked up at the observation desk. “Jordan,” he greeted, obviously able to see them through the glass.
Jordan turned on the speaker function. “Thank you for coming.”
Burke tipped his head to Strahan. “You didn’t mention that you were inviting him.”
“No? Must have slipped my mind. I didn’t figure you’d care since you two are old friends.”
“Former business associates,” Strahan spoke up, his voice much higher pitched than Burke’s drawl. “I don’t trust him. Even more, I don’t like him.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Burke snarled before he looked up at Jordan and Kinley again. “Do you plan to stay up there in your ivory tower or come down and join us?”
“The ivory tower suits me,” Jordan commented. If he was distressed by this meeting, he certainly wasn’t showing it. Kinley, on the other hand, was definitely distressed. Her heart was racing, and every muscle in her body had tightened to the point of being painful.
“Well?” Strahan prompted. He impatiently checked his watch. “Care to tell me why you called this meeting?”
“The envelopes on the floor are for you. Your names are on them.”
Kinley glanced at Jordan to question why he would label them with their names, since the information inside was supposedly identical, but Jordan had his attention focused on the two men.
Strahan picked up his envelope and tore it open. Burke waited a moment before reaching down and retrieving his and doing the same. Both began to go through the pages.
“They’re copies of Kinley’s encrypted research notes. It shouldn’t take either of you long to break the code, and when you do, I think you’ll find something interesting—that Kinley doesn’t know where the missing antidote is.”
“So she says,” Burke accused.
“No. It’s the truth. She made those notes because she was trying to figure out what could have happened to the formula for the antidote before and after the research facility was destroyed in an explosion.”
“And what did happen?” Strahan asked.
“I don’t know,” Kinley volunteered. “But I’m hoping you’ll be able to figure it out when you go through those notes and compare them to what you two personally know about the situation.”
“I’ve added copies of the federal investigation,” Jordan continued. “There’s also a log of everyone who entered the research facility the day it was blown up. Both your names are on the log, by the way.”
That caused the men to toss each other a glare. Good. Kinley wanted them pitted against each other. Maybe that would take the focus off Gus, Jordan and her.
Strahan reached inside his jacket, causing Jordan to issue a warning. “The glass is bulletproof.”
“And I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t risk shooting the one woman who might be able to clear all of this up.”
Maybe. Or maybe he wanted her dead for some other reason.
Strahan extracted a thick white envelope from his coat and tossed it on the floor where Jordan’s had originally been. “Those are photocopies of Dexter Sheppard’s final notes from the research project.”
Kinley went still. Dexter’s notes. She’d known they existed, of course, but she thought he had taken them with him when he faked their deaths.
She stared at the envelope.
Burke stared at it, too. “How did you get that information?” he demanded.
Strahan shrugged. “I stole Dexter’s notes the night of the explosion. But before you accuse me of having the missing antidote formula, rethink that. They’re just notes, and I’ve had men working on them for months, and they haven’t been able to make heads or tails of them. I’m figuring that Kinley will be able to help. That’s why I’ve been looking for her.”
It made sense. Well, maybe. And maybe this was some kind of trick. “How did you find me?” she asked.
“Through Burke,” Strahan calmly provided. “I’ve been watching him for months—just like he’s been watching me—and lo and behold, you walk right into the Sentron Christmas party.”
“You hired Anderson Walker to follow us?” Jordan demanded.
“No.” Strahan seemed surprised, or something, with the question. “I used my own men. I wouldn’t trust one of Burke’s lackeys.”
Which meant Burke had likely sent Anderson. But why? For intimidation, or was there something else behind that incident?
“Read Dexter’s research notes,” Strahan told her. “And get back to me. That antidote is worth more than all three of us have in our bank accounts. It’s in your benefit to find it because frankly, I’m a bit desperate. I need the money back that I invested.”
And desperate men did desperate things. Like trying to use her son to make her cooperate.
What other desperate things had Strahan done?
Kinley thought of Shelly Mackey and how the woman had died to protect Gus. Strahan had been involved with this from the start—including fourteen months ago when Shelly had been killed.
“Are you the one who went after Shelly?” Kinley asked, staring straight at Strahan.
She watched his eyes and saw the flash of recognition. “Shelly who?” he asked.
He was lying. Strahan must have known every little detail about Kinley, and even if he hadn’t figured out that Shelly had handed Gus over to Jordan, the man would have at least known that Kinley’s P.I. friend had been murdered in the midst of all this. He would have had Shelly investigated to see if she was connected to the missing formula.
Burke tipped his head to the envelope that Strahan had put on the floor. “By giving Kinley and Jordan those, you have no guarantee that if she and Jordan find the truth, they’ll tell you. I’m betting they go straight to the Feds.”
Strahan smiled. “I think not. Kinley understands the need to have this resolved in such a way that all parties will be, well, content.”
“Are you saying we share the profits from the antidote?” Burke questioned.
“I’m saying that when Kinley gives us what we want, she’ll be free to go. And you and I can then work out an acceptable compromise that will compensate us for our initial investments and the time and trouble we’ve gone through since this dog and pony show started.”
Burke didn’t look like a man on the verge of a compromise, but he also didn’t argue. He turned, headed for his car and, a moment later, Strahan did the same. After the men had backed out of the warehouse, Jordan closed the doors.
“I think Strahan hired the person who killed Shelly,” Kinley let Jordan know.
“I think you’re right.” Since Jordan didn’t hesitate, he’d likely already come to the same conclusion. “But we have to prove it. A traffic camera recorded Shelly’s murder. I’ll have someone go through it again and see if they can match Shelly’s killer to anyone on Strahan’s payroll.”
That seemed a long shot, but it was better than no shot at all.
“You think those are really Dexter Sheppard’s notes?” Jordan asked.
“If they are, I’ll be able to tell. Dexter and I worked closely, and I can recognize his handwriting.”
She swallowed hard, remembering her stormy relationship with Dexter. A relationship that had produced Gus. She was thankful for that, but Kinley would never be able to forgive the man for making her life a living hell. If it hadn’t been for Dexter, there wouldn’t have been a shady research project, and Gus and she wouldn’t be in danger now.
Jordan adjusted some of the console instruments and stood so they could leave. Kinley hurried ahead of him on the stairs and reached for the envelope.
“Wait,” Jordan practically shouted. He hurried in front of her, stooped down and examined it.
“You think it’s some kind of booby trap?”
“With a man like Strahan, you just don’t know.”
Jordan was right. She’d been so anxious to find a resolution to all of this that she’d temporarily forgotten that she couldn’t trust Burke or Strahan.
Jordan used the corner of his PDA to lift the envelope so he could further study it. He must have approved of what he saw, or didn’t see, because he picked it up and opened it.
It was indeed notes, and it took Kinley just a glance to realize that was Dexter’s handwriting. Or else it was a very good forgery.
Jordan handed them to her, then paused. “You were in love with him?”
The question threw her a moment, because it felt a little strange talking to Jordan about her former lover. “I thought I was.” She shook her head. “I didn’t really know him. And if he were alive, he’d be the one trying to use Gus to get to me. Dexter wouldn’t have protected him the way you have.”
A muscle flickered in Jordan’s jaw, and he reached out and ran his hand down her arm. It seemed as if he were about to say something. Something personal about this attraction between them. But then he must have changed his mind because he started for the car.
“We have to move Gus tonight,” he said from over his shoulder.
“What? Tonight? I thought this plan stood a chance of working?”
“A chance isn’t good enough. I know now that neither Burke nor Strahan will back off, not even with a bribe. They’re counting on hundreds of millions of dollars from this deal, and they won’t stop until they have the antidote. Or until they kill each other.” He opened the car door for her. His eyes met hers and in them she saw that he was right.
Still, this would break her heart.
“Then, maybe they’ll kill each other,” she mumbled, getting inside the Porsche.
“I doubt we’ll get that lucky.” Jordan got in the car as well. “And even if we use Dexter’s notes to learn the formula, we can’t just give it to Strahan and Burke. We’ll have to turn it over to the authorities.”
“Of course.” Though she had to admit, the idea of using it to get Burke and Strahan off their backs was tempting.
“They don’t trust each other. That’s obvious. So, maybe I can push that a little harder, give them a reason for the distrust to erupt.” He started the car, opened the warehouse door and backed out. “It wouldn’t have to be something to make them literally kill each other. Just enough to incriminate them so they land in jail.”
“Jail,” she repeated. “You think that would stop them from coming after us?”
Jordan took a deep breath and drove away. Fast. “No.”
Kinley tried not to react to that. She’d known in her heart that it was true, that there was only one way this could end.
Someone would die.
The thought had no sooner formed in her head when she heard the sound. Not a blast. More like a swish. At first, Kinley thought it was the noise from the closing warehouse doors, but then the Porsche jerked violently to the right.
“Get down!” Jordan ordered. “Someone just shot out one of the tires.”
Chapter Ten
Jordan latched on to the steering wheel and tried to keep the Porsche steady. It was next to impossible.
Especially after the second shot.
The bullet must have gone straight into the passenger’s front tire because his car jerked violently in that direction. He had no control and certainly couldn’t speed away from this attack.
“The glass is bulletproof,” he reminded Kinley. But that wouldn’t be nearly enough to keep her safe.
He had to slow to a crawl, and by doing so, they were sitting ducks.
Jordan grabbed Kinley’s hand and put it on the steering wheel. Not that it would help much, but it freed him up to draw his gun and get ready to fire. He looked around, trying to pick through the dimly lit area, but he didn’t see the shooter. Then he glanced up at the flat warehouse roof.
There was a man dressed all in black and wearing a dark ski mask. If it hadn’t been for the glint of the security lights on the rifle, Jordan might never have seen him.
Jordan didn’t want to r
isk lowering the window so he could return fire. That would create an even more dangerous situation. Instead, he drove forward, creeping along, so he could put some distance between them and the shooter.
There was another shot. The bullet smashed into the back of his car. The body had been modified to be bulletproof, as well, but sparks flew from the impact.
Another shot.
Then another.
“He’s not trying to kill us,” Jordan mumbled. But the words had no sooner left his mouth when he saw the headlights of another car. It was coming right at them.
Jordan tried to steer to the side of the narrow road, but he had almost no control. And besides, he needed his hands free in case this turned into a full-scale attack. It was a risk—anything he did would be a risk—but he stopped.
So did the other car.
Like the vehicle from the night before, the high beams were on, and they glared right into the Porsche and made it impossible for Jordan to see. He checked the rearview mirror to make sure the rooftop gunman wasn’t about to join the fight.
But the man was no longer on the roof.
Hell.
Jordan reached over to the glove compartment and took out another gun and extra magazine clips. “Do you know how to shoot?” he asked Kinley, pressing the gun into her hand.
She shook her head. “But I’ll try.” Even in the milky light, he could see the terror on her face. “What about Gus?”
“Cal would have called if there’d been an attack.” Jordan was sure of that. He was also sure that he couldn’t count on Cal to back him up here. Cal needed to stay in place at the estate.
And that meant Kinley and he were on their own.
Well, almost.
“Call nine-one-one.” Jordan passed her his phone and kept watch, looking all around them while he shoved the magazine clips into his jacket pocket.
He spotted yet another car. This one was parked on the side of the warehouse with its lights off. But Jordan could clearly see the front license plate, and he recognized it: SNTRN 06.
It was a Sentron vehicle.
He cursed again. This could be a three-prong attack, including one from a former employee who was likely now on Burke’s side. Or else after that ten-million-dollar reward for the missing antidote formula. Was Cody or Desmond in that car?
Christmas Guardian Page 10
