Читать книгу When Megan Smiles - Mary Wilson Anne - Страница 10

Megan stared at Rafe, not certain what was going on. But she wanted out of here. The room seemed closed and airless. She found that breathing wasn’t easy for her, and she spoke quickly. “You don’t want to bother Mr. Lawrence if you don’t have to.” She inhaled a deep breath. “I’m here for training and possibly evaluation for a promotion, and if you call him…” She shrugged, already saying more than she should have. “Please, just let me find the envelope and you can read what’s in it before I take it. Okay?”

He didn’t move. He just stared at her, his hands behind his back, then he spoke in a low voice. “Find the damn envelope.”

“Thank you,” she said, and didn’t waste any time before turning back to the desk to look for it. She went through everything twice, but no envelope appeared. Finally she moved some books aside and withdrew a stack of papers beneath them. There it was. The envelope even had her name on the front of it.

She turned and held it up to Rafe. “Here it is.”

He looked at it, then came close enough to take it from her. She watched him open the flap, pull out a sheet of paper and examine it. “According to this, Ms. Gallagher is being moved to another location so your time at LynTech can be spent more productively.”

“See, I told you so,” she said, and realized that sounded like a childish retort. “It’s all there.”

He looked back at the letter. “It’s got directions.” He frowned as he read silently. “That’s a lousy area,” he murmured before he looked back at her with those dark eyes. “Why are they putting you up there?”

“He said it’s wired to the LynTech database, and I can work more effectively from there than I could from the hotel.”

“Whatever,” Rafe said, refolding the paper and putting it back in the envelope. Then he shook out two keys. “Front door and loft,” he said as he read the tags. He dropped them back in the envelope and handed it to her. “Once again, I was wrong. You’re right. You can go.”

She expected to feel victorious, but didn’t, thanks to the darkness in his eyes. She didn’t understand that look at all, and normally wouldn’t have cared. But for some reason, it bothered her. “Thank you,” she said, holding on tightly to the envelope. “I just need to get my things from my cubicle, then I’ll leave.” She heard herself add, “And can you show me where to sign the list?”

She thought he might at least smile a bit at that, but all he said was, “Get your things and I’ll sign you out.”

“Okay,” she agreed, and headed for the door.

He followed, but never came abreast of her all the way to her cubicle. When she went inside he stayed at the doorless entry and silently watched as she got her briefcase and put her paperwork in it. She closed it and looked up to find him eyeing her intently. “Can I ask you one thing?” she murmured.

“What’s that?”

“Why on earth would you assume that Mr. Lawrence and I were…together?”

He motioned to her hand. “I know that’s an engagement ring, and since you were hunting for Mr. Lawrence at the ball, well…” He shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time an older man and a younger woman got together.”

She knew her face was getting red. “That’s not the case,” she said, and snapped the locks on the briefcase. “Not at all.”

“That’s not an engagement ring?” he asked.

“Of course it is. And for your information, my fiancé is thirty-three, five years older than I am.” Why in the heck had she told him that? “But that’s none of your business.”

“I didn’t ask,” he pointed out.

“Do you need to see my ID or anything now?”

Rafe hesitated, then put out his hand. “Sure.”

She opened the briefcase again, pulled out a slim wallet and took out her California driver’s license. He looked at it and read aloud, “Megan Stanford Gallagher.” Then he glanced up at her. “Stanford?”

She’d always hated her middle name. “My grandmother’s maiden name.”

“Oh, I thought you were named after the university,” he said. “You know, Stanford University.”

“No,” she said.

“Okay. Just checking.” Then he read, “Twenty-eight, five feet ten inches, a hundred and—”

She went around and snatched the license out of his hand. “I think that’s enough,” she said, and returned it to her wallet. “I’m who I said I am, and I’m here for the reason I told you.”

She snapped the briefcase shut and heard Rafe repeat, “You are who you say you are, and you’re here for the reason you told me.”

“Thank you.” She looked up at him. “Now, tell me if you’re just overzealous about your job, or did you seriously think I was stealing company secrets?”

“The latter,” he murmured.

“You are kidding, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“And you thought I was getting involved with Mr. Lawrence to ferret out company secrets?”

“That sounded reasonable to me,” he said.

She shook her head. The thought was just plain sickening to her. “I’m ready to leave,” she said, then saw the boxes she had to take with her. She pointed to them. “They need to go with me. Since you’re here, and you have to sign me out, you can carry them down for me.”

“I’m a guard, not a valet,” he said, and didn’t move.

She blinked at his words. She hadn’t meant to offend him, or ask him to be her slave. “I just thought it would help me get out of here faster,” she said with all honesty.

“Of course it would. Just ask me, instead of assuming I’ll be your lackey.”

She had no idea where this was coming from, but it made her feel uneasy. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll take them myself and make a couple of trips.”

That clearly wasn’t the right thing to say, either, though she didn’t know why. “It’s going to kill you to be polite, isn’t it?” he murmured in a low voice.

“Forget it. It won’t kill me to make two trips.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll be done in ten minutes, if that’s okay with you?”

“Now’s even better,” he said, and went straight to the boxes, picking them up. “Let’s get this over with.”

He sounded as if he were about to have a root canal operation, but she didn’t argue. She collected her things, then did as he said, leading the way to the elevators. She reached to press the down button, and the doors opened immediately. She stood back to let Rafe on board, then followed and hit the button for the lobby.

She faced the doors as they closed, and deliberately didn’t look at Rafe’s reflection in them as he stood beside her. The elevator started down, and she realized she might not be looking at him, but he was staring at her. “What?” she finally said.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Sorry,” he murmured, and as she eyed him, he glanced away. “I was just thinking that if I were you, I wouldn’t wear a ring like that in the neighborhood you’re going to tonight.”

“What does that mean?”

“How big is that ring?” he asked.

“None of your business,” she said.

“Three carats, four?” he pressed.

“Big enough.”

“Okay, a nice ring. The place you’re staying is in a fringe area, a mixture of warehouses and converted lofts, populated with homeless street people.”

She knew the type of area, but had assumed that the loft was in an industrial section that had been turned into pricey condos and studios. “Mr. Lawrence arranged it, and I don’t think he would put me in a place he considered questionable or unsafe.”

“It might be paradise,” Rafe said, staring straight ahead at the doors, “but I’d still keep that ring under wraps.”

She covered the diamond with her other hand.

“One more suggestion?” he said, and this time he met her gaze in the reflection.

“What now?” she asked with a tinge of exasperation.

“When you park there, assuming they don’t have a secured parking area, go right to the door and have your key ready. Then go straight in.”

She frowned at him, hating the uneasiness that was beginning to niggle at her. “What are you trying to do, scare me as payback for…not signing the lists?”

He shrugged. “Security’s my job, and I’m just giving you a few suggestions. Take them or leave them.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened with a soft chime. He let her step out first, then went with her to the back exit, toward the parking garage. Megan opened the door, let him go out, then followed, hearing the door close with a metallic clang. She headed for her car, parked between a foreign compact and a large black SUV.

She hit the lock release, then Rafe put the boxes on the back seat, closed the door and turned to her. “I would have pegged you for a BMW,” he said.

“I have a Porsche,” she admitted. “I flew in, so it couldn’t come with me. This is a rental from the company.”

He opened her door for her, and as she slipped into the driver’s seat, he crouched by her the way he had at the entry gate that night. “Anything else, ma’am?” he asked in an annoyingly deferential tone that she knew he didn’t mean at all.

“Nothing, thanks,” she said, putting her briefcase on the passenger seat.

“Well, if you think of anything, give me a call,” he said, and motioned to her phone and the earpiece. “You’re wired for it.”

“Sure, you’ll be the first one I call if I need something,” she muttered.

She was braced for some snappy comeback meant to cut her to the quick, but he surprised her when he said simply, “Be careful.”

What looked like genuine concern touched his dark eyes, and that surprised her, too. He was taking this whole thing seriously, about security and the neighborhood. “I plan to be.”

“Good. You do that,” he said. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Excuse me?”

“How to get there, to the loft?”

“Oh. No.” She turned to her briefcase, opened it and took out the now infamous envelope to get the letter and read it more carefully. There wasn’t any mention of parking in it, but there were directions she could easily follow. “It’s all here.”

“One more thing?”

“What?”

“If you do end up parking on the street, don’t leave anything in your car where it can be seen through the windows. You’d be asking for trouble.”

“Are you sure you don’t live down there or something?” she asked. “You seem to know a whole lot about the criminal element.”

He stared at her, hard. Then he stood and said, as if from a great distance above her, “Why don’t you call my parole officer and ask him about me?” Slamming the door so hard it shook the car, he strode away without looking back.

Megan was stunned. She hadn’t meant anything by what she’d said, but he was furious at her. Offended, obviously. And walking away. She scrambled out of the car and called to him as he got to the door of the building. “Hey, I didn’t sign the damn list!”

He stopped, then turned. “You never checked in, so technically you aren’t here. You don’t exist.” And he left.

She sank back into the car, horrified to feel her eyes smarting with tears. She swiped at them. She never cried. Never. But now she was on the verge of springing a leak. She could hate him, really hate him, for the way he got to her.

She put the car in gear and headed for the exit. Maybe she wouldn’t see him again. It looked as if he worked nights, and she wasn’t about to stay late anymore. She wouldn’t have to with the setup at the loft.

She got to the closed security gate and it didn’t move to open. She realized she didn’t know what to do to get out. She’d come in with other cars that morning.

She spotted a keypad by an empty booth, rolled down the window and leaned out to examine it. One of the buttons was labeled Assistance, and she pressed it. She pressed it again, and still nothing happened. Everyone must be gone for the night and she was stuck.

She sank back in the seat and felt the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she should go inside again and find someone to help her, or if there would be anyone there. Then she remembered—Rafe was around. No, she wasn’t going back inside.

She sat forward and pushed the button again. This time, loud static came over the speaker, then a voice. “Security.”

“I’m in the parking lot and I need to get out. The gate’s shut.”

“Name?”

If he had a list, she wasn’t on it. But she gave it a shot. “Megan Gallagher. I just started today and—”

“I know,” the voice said, and she realized it was Rafe.

The next instant the gate slowly rose. “Thank you,” she called into the speaker, but there was no response. He probably hadn’t heard her. She rolled up the window and eased out onto the street, then stopped by the curb, aware of the gate going down behind her as she reached for the paper with the directions. Mr. Lawrence had made them simple, even writing down the estimated distance between turns.

She started off, and as she got closer, recognized the area. It’s where she’d thought the loft would be, right in the middle of a redevelopment zone. It could be just fine. It might be nice now, and not dangerous. It could have upscale residences and elegant businesses. The loft might be like the ones she’d seen in New York when she’d visited Quint. She remembered him telling her some of the prices and they were outrageous. People actually had bidding wars, driving prices through the ceiling, all wanting to live in such places. Maybe that’s the way it was with the LynTech loft.

She spotted the street she was looking for, turned onto it and knew she was wrong. It was lined with warehouses, half of them boarded up, the others with stark security lights on them. Interspersed were other, smaller buildings, some abandoned, none remotely like the elegant renovated places she’d hoped for. She drove slowly, noticing that there were no people on the street, and just a scattering of cars parked by the curb. Streetlamps provided a little light, at least the ones with bulbs not broken, but there were no garages in sight, no driveways, and no parking stalls.

Megan spotted the number she was looking for halfway down the block on the right, and pulled her car to the curb in front of an old van that looked as if a hippie probably lived in it. Ahead, three motorcycles were parked, nose in, in front of the two-story warehouse, whose only ornamentation were two potted plants sitting on either side of a steel security door. At least there was light from a caged fixture over the entry.

She turned off the car, double-checked the address, then took several deep breaths. She could barely admit it to herself, but what Rafe Diaz had said had scared her more than a little. If he’d intended to do that, he’d succeeded.

She picked up the keys, gripping the one tagged for the front door, then pushed everything else into her briefcase and got out of the car, leaving the boxes for later. Locking the door, Megan set the alarm and practically ran around the vehicle and across the cement sidewalk to the warehouse entrance.

She pushed the key in the lock, turned it and heard a click, then opened the door. She went inside, closed it behind her and stood for a moment in the barren-looking foyer. Two doors, one to the right and one dead ahead, came off of it, and to her left was an old service elevator. The note had said the loft was on the second floor, straight across from the lift. She stepped forward and raised the chain gate on the elevator, then got in, relieved when it began to move.

Reaching the second level, she went to the door directly across the hallway and got out the second key. But before she could put it in the lock, another door off the hallway to her right opened and a mountain of a man stepped out. He had on a leather vest over a massive bare chest, plus faded Levi’s, heavy motor-cycle boots, and a skullcap over long gray hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail. There were tattoos on each of his massive biceps and one visible through the open front of the vest. She thought she could make out Die as one of the words.