“Depends on the value of the design. If the product could be sold for millions, or even billions, the purchaser would probably pay a pretty penny. Theft of trade secrets is rather common, actually.”
“Couldn’t the original designer take them to court?”
“The burden of proof would be on Health-Tech Systems and the economic value of impact to its company. If the designs were already submitted for a patent approval, or if production has started, they’d have documentation to present to the courts.”
“No production,” I said. “I think the competition has already applied for the patent ahead of Health-Tech Systems.”
“Then it gets tricky. Where is their proof of a stolen design rather than a similar design concept by two similar companies? Health-Tech Systems would have to prove a solid connection between Eric and the competitor. I would think Eric took precautions to cover his trail.”
“The money?”
“Depends on how it came in.”
“Okay, so cash is motive. I still don’t understand how Logan wound up dead, or why Gina was even hired.”
“Another question to ask is if money was needed for a particular reason? I’d think those guys would already have some pretty decent cash flow with smuggling drugs. Why steal design plans?”
Joe.
“I think I know,” I said, and laughed.
“What?”
“Ironic, I never cared about solving a murder, only about finding the ghost. Now it seems I’m going to solve the murder but not find Logan.”
Hadley paused, and then asked. “Are you certain your pendant can’t lead you to Logan?”
“Tristan said it only enhances my existing powers.” I traced the warm metal with the tip of a finger, wishing for it to have powers it never had. “Gotta go, Hadley. I’m outta time. I’ll try to call back later.”
I stood from my hiding spot. No one paid any attention as I worked my way back toward the lobby. Confrontational Man walked out the door as I attempted to enter.
“You.” He grabbed my arm in a biting grip. “You have two seconds to get off this property.”
I pried his hand off my arm, backed him against a wall, and got up in his face. “Or what? I will be out of here in a minute.”
He raised a hand and this time, it was my hand grabbing his arm. “I’m going to pretend you weren’t about to hit a girl.” I let go. “Now back off.”
Damn. Fear, knowledge I was doomed to Hell, and mental fatigue prompted by the past couple of weeks, brought out the total bitch in me. And it worked. I smiled.
Chuckling Guy smirked as I approached his counter.
“Joe was kidnapped,” I said.
He stopped looking me in the eye.
“That wasn’t an actual question, but you can respond.”
“Listen, I’m just—”
“Don’t give me that minding your own business crap. What do you know about Joe?”
“Why do you think he was kidnapped?” he asked.
Evasive, that one. I leaned forward. “Drug smuggling, missing boss and need for a lot of money at once. Does that cover everything?”
He went rigid. “Are you a cop?”
“No, but I can have them here pretty damn fast if you don’t start answering my questions.”
“Yeah, he was kidnapped. Don’t know much. We started smuggling interstate last year for a cartel. Something about not all of the money got turned over, and a body would be left dangling from a bridge if the cash didn’t show. Minus the head, of course.”
“Of course,” I parroted. Mind was still stuck on cartel. Shit. They were mixed in some serious stuff.
“I know nothin’ about the business stuff,” he continued, “but I don’t think Joe was taking a large cut, and Rick and Eric are scrambling to get the ransom.”
And… motive. Money required to pay ransom. Facts also pointed to Eric hiring Gina off the corner out front. Mind suffered from lingering confusion as to why, but I needed final confirmation.
“Know anyone nicknamed Flounder?” I asked.
He went red.
“You do,” I said. “Why is someone nicknamed Flounder?”
“That’s not something I can talk about.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a girl.” He looked me up and down. “I mean, you’re a girl. You’re not like …”
A flick of his eyes went toward the window. Jolie stood out on her corner, since it had been vacated by Gina.
“Like a hooker?” I asked.
He nodded.
“So? Tell me anyway.” I propped my chin up with a hand and waited.
“Okay, listen. A couple of years ago, a few guys went down to Cancun—”
“Including Eric.”
Nodding again, he said, “Including Eric. Eric hired a…”
His eyes darted back to the window.
“He hired a hooker?” Geez, it was as if the man worried I’d slap him with a hand fan, and then drop into a dead faint by the mere mention of those ladies who were so fond of working nights. I should have arrived in my hoop skirt. No wonder I didn’t have closet room, that dang skirt took up all the space.
Chuckling Guy flushed again, and I wouldn’t have pegged him a blusher. “A hooker. The problem was, Eric was shit-faced and in the middle of… Well, you know? He passed out, and she couldn’t get him off her.”
“Seriously?”
“She had to call out until one of the guys in the other room came to help. Took a while cuz they only thought it was part of… Well, you know.” He lifted a shoulder. “Eric was so wasted he never woke up the entire time. Don’t know who started calling him Flounder. Probably Rick. Sounds like something he’d say.”
The urge to roll my eyes was strong. “So would any of those girls working that corner know the story?”
“Maybe. It’s pretty damn funny, so it still gets brought up sometimes.”
Yup, Eric was officially one hundred percent my man. Stole work designs to pay ransom. The Gina Welch involvement was still my wild card. But why Logan? Memories flashed. Logan’s desk full of CAD drawings. Eric’s college diploma put on proud display in his office. Logan was Engineering. Eric was Sales and Marketing. Logan had design drawings. Eric didn’t. But couldn’t Eric swipe the drawings from work without killing a man?
Only one way to find out.
Okay, confronting a possible murderer? Not smart. Probably about as stupid as hanging out with a bunch of drug smugglers. But since I was about to board a one-way train destined for Hell, why did I care?
“I need your computer.”
Chuckling Guy’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Let me use your computer for a second and then I’ll leave. Promise.” I stepped around the counter before his mouth could move in the direction of protest. Eric was probably at work right then, but in case he’d decided to skip out, I wanted his home address. Hand reached for the computer mouse and Body froze. “You’re looking up the news?”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong in keeping up with the world.”
“Didn’t say there was.” I focused down on the screen. A still in the video news feed was frozen on the blond woman whom I’d spotted leaving Chester’s with Eric that day at the mall. I clicked play.
The company this woman worked for was going public with a new high-tech implant design. Once strategically inserted into brain matter, the device allowed paraplegics some functionality. Yeah, I’d say that was a design to make waves and pull in some major revenue… if the chip worked liked promised.
A few mouse clicks later, and I had Eric’s address.
“Why do you want Eric’s address?”
“Don’t ask.”
I exited the building to find Hellhound plopped beside the Kia. But he wasn’t sleeping. Laziness had been traded for anxiety, and the beast was alert. His eyes continuously scanned the area. Hairs on the back of my arms took a rise, but nothing in my line of sight looked amiss. But soon. I took a deep breath and motioned
for Hellhound to follow.
Confrontational Man was giving me The Eye when I entered the garage. He’d be much nicer if he’d realized I was stuffing a hellhound into the back seat of the Buick right then. Hellhound had fit so much better in the Kia, but what’s a beast to do? We had to roll.
I’d made it to the edge of the parking lot, Jolie’s dismissive stare poking at me from her corner, when I slammed the brakes.
Enhances my existing powers.
My words to Hadley. I had the power of vision. The few times I’d accomplished those visions I had focused on something related to the vision.
And the pendant was related to the vision I sought.
Because of the pendant, I was tasked with a job to find Logan. I closed my eyes and clutched the warm metal with tight hands. Focus. Tristan’s voice echoed in my ears.
I blinked. When my eyes reopened, I stood inside a lobby. A vaguely familiar one. Someone paused by my side. The features of the person were blurred, and I couldn’t make out any details other than it was a man. Weird. A ding at the elevator bank alerted me as the elevator doors opened, and a woman rushed out. Her steps were quick. Her hair sticking out from her head in haphazard directions. Her eyes frantically darting for the exit. The woman was a dictionary definition of scared.
The interior walls of the building vanished. I sat in Aunt Kate’s car staring at the street in front of me, Joe’s Body Parts in the review mirror. The woman in my vision had been the receptionist from Health-Tech Systems. The lobby, the main entrance to the office building. Logan was ready to return to work. I picked up my cell.
“Logan and Eric are both at Health-Tech Systems,” I said when Hadley answered. “I’m headed that way.”
I hung up and checked the review mirror. Hellhound’s face took up the entire view. “How about we send a ghost to Hell?”
My sidekick whined his approval.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The probability of my aunt’s vehicle needing additional body repair had increased as I drove to the building where Health-Tech Systems was located. I’d put Aunt Kate’s driving skills to shame in my haste. But the Buick arrived in one piece, so it was only the towing thing Aunt Kate needed to worry about. I’d lucked out with a prime parking spot. The only problem, it technically wasn’t a parking spot.
Growls sounded in the wind as I rushed toward the building. I’d love to say they were a figment of my overactive imagination, but with Hellhound’s perked ears, I knew they weren’t. My pace quickened.
“Kiara? What the hell?” Wilcox’s voice stopped me cold once inside the lobby. I turned to face trouble with a capital T. He was alone. His expression was furious. “Give me one good reason why you’re here?”
“To speak with Eric Kane.” And to send a ghost to Hell, but he wouldn’t understand that last part.
Wilcox’s jaw slackened. Probably hadn’t counted on blunt honesty, but I had no time for our usual games. Instead, I scanned for his missing partner.
“Why are you here?” I asked. His jaw clenched, and his face had taken on stubborn. I was starting to recognize his looks. “Let me guess? To speak with Eric? Oh, crap—wait! You found Logan’s body?”
“How did you…”
Second time I’d knocked Wilcox speechless. No time to gloat. “Yeah, I know he’s dead. He’s been dead.”
“You do realize—”
“I realize I’ve said nothing incriminating,” I cut him off. “Especially since I had nothing to do with his murder.”
A ding from the elevator bank sounded behind me. The vision I’d seen only minutes before began playing itself out. I stared at Wilcox. Why had he been nothing but a blur inside my vision? Seriously odd, but no time to analyze.
The Health-Tech receptionist ran fleeing from the elevator cab. She acted like the Hounds of Hell were nipping at her heels, but I knew it was only me having that problem. She’d only seen a ghost. Or rather, violent energy created from a ghost. I stopped her. “Is Eric upstairs?”
Her eyes were wide, but her lids blinked rapidly. I wasn’t certain she’d understood my question.
“What is going on?” Wilcox asked.
I held up my hand to hush him, but I kept my focus on the woman. “How many people are upstairs?”
“Just… just.” She swallowed. “Only Eric. The bosses were upset today. Told everybody to leave early. It was only me and Eric left and…”
“It’s okay. What you saw isn’t after you. Calm down and go home.”
“What is this? What’s going on?” Wilcox yelled the questions at my back since I’d already started running for the elevator. He caught up with me as I continuously jabbed at the call button. His hand put a stop to my assault. “Why did you tell her it wasn’t after her? What is it?”
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I stepped into the cab. “You are not going to understand.”
“Try me.” He rushed in after me before I could push the button and probably didn’t comprehend his sudden urge to get cozy with the back corner. Hellhound’s flames had driven me into the opposite one. The damn beast always took up the entire space.
“I’ve got something better than tell,” I said and watched his eyebrows rise. “I can show, and trust me, you’re going to wish you hadn’t seen.”
Because while I didn’t exactly know what was going on in the Health-Tech Systems suite at that very moment, it was guaranteed to be something Wilcox would never be able to explain away. With another ding from the elevator, the doors opened. I stepped out onto the floor. The door to suite 823 down the hall stood propped open. Even from down the corridor, I could tell the lights were out.
Growls. Again they sounded. Sharp and menacing to my ears. A pack of hellhounds rising from the pits. No, not yet. It couldn’t be yet. Logan was inside the suite, and once his soul was sent to Satan, I was free. All I needed was a few more minutes. Just a few more blasted minutes.
My pace escalated to a run, and Wilcox stayed at my back. I entered into the reception area of Health-Tech Systems. As soon as Wilcox cleared the glass door, it slammed shut. I reached for the handle, but before I even pulled, pushed, and banged, I knew it wouldn’t budge. Hellhound had parked himself in the middle of the corridor. Since he didn’t need the door to physically be open for him to enter, it wasn’t a problem. Yet he didn’t move. More growls. Close. Very close. Hellhound pulled up to his full height with flames blazing high and teeth bared. The beast planned to fight while my gut clenched in worry.
“Why isn’t the door opening?” Wilcox nudged me aside. His efforts with the door proved no better than mine. “How is this even locked?”
We both spun at the sound of a scream. Masculine. Eric.
Wilcox and I ran. By the time we’d passed through the archways leading from the reception area, items had started to fly. Everything from staplers to the drafting tables I’d previously seen lining the wall. Nothing like the tame newspaper New Target had been so fond of. This stuff hurt.
Wilcox shoved me up against an exterior office wall, doing his best to block my body with his. The ghostly-induced wind pounded against us, pressing me hard into wood. I tried pushing Wilcox off, but even with my extra demon strength, I had trouble making him budge with the supernatural airflow being in his favor. Wilcox should have worried about protecting himself. The possibility was strong that my last earthly breaths were being taken. But the man was stubborn and my physical encouragement to tell him to prioritize himself went unheeded.
The wind stopped. Deafening silence. Any items not previously nailed down now barricaded the archways. Digging would be required to get out, and the message was clear: The ghost wanted us to stay.
“Are you okay?” Wilcox asked. He looked me up and down as if expecting to see me covered in bloody gashes and bruising.
“Don’t try to save me,” I said, my attempts to inspect him would have been more constructive had he stopped trying to turn me around to make sure nothing poked out of my back. He’d taken the brunt, a
fter all. “You save you, got it?”
His brows scrunched, and his jaw tightened. Wilcox didn’t agree with my words, but he caught the new direction of my gaze and followed it with his own. Eric was on the other side of the room, shoved up against a wall. His toes barely touching the floor. He gasped for breath from the invisible hand choking his throat.
Wilcox lurched forward. I grasped his arm and tugged him back. “That’s not how you’re going to get him down.”
His eyes blazed. “We can’t leave him up there.”
“How is he up there?” I asked.
Wilcox’s eyes shifted back to Eric. Steely determination settled in his jaw. The detective took a step back. Despite that, my grasp on his arm tightened, and I tugged him back to my attention. His handsome features were void of shock. Yeah, Wilcox was no innocent to the supernatural. “I’ll get him down.”
Somehow.
Logan stood only a couple of feet away, and he was in dire need of a distraction. I approached him, and even with his focus on Eric, his energy revved. He watched my every move.
“Let him go,” I said, not that words alone would do shit.
“No.”
Sometimes I hated being right. Like now. I inched closer. The ghost tensed. Eric remained pinned to the wall, cut and bleeding. Logan had obviously planned some torturous fun before he got around to the actual kill.
“Since he killed you, you’re going to kill him? Gotta have that vendetta, right?”
“It’s Gina?” Eric hoarsely croaked out.
“Gina?” So focused on Logan, it threw me to hear her name. “Yeah, I guess you killed them both, right?”
Wilcox stiffened by my side.
“No, only… only Gina.” He gasped.
Okay, now I was confused. More answers needed clarification, and the ghost was going to strangle Eric to death before I got the truth. A mangled telephone was the distraction I sought. It flew at Logan before he’d realized what I’d done. His energy’s focus dropped from Eric and instinctively refocused. The phone turned into smashed pieces as it slammed into the back wall from Logan’s forced direction. This ghost hadn’t gotten the hang of the I’m dead and flying objects can’t hurt me thing yet. My favor.
Reaping Havoc: Kiara Blake Book 1 Page 29
