Sideswiped (8 page)

Hands in the air, Jack edged out from behind the desk. He coughed, and the barrel of the guard's gun shifted to track him.

“Bravo!” a clear, masculine voice exclaimed from the doorway.

The guard turned, shocked. Peri lashed out in a spinning kick. Impact against the guard's hand vibrated through her even as she followed through and rose into a crouch and from there to a stand, the flat of her still-swinging foot slamming into the guard's head.

Spittle and blood sprayed and the guard crashed into the coffee table. His handgun fell, and she kicked it to the far windows. Jack went for the man in the doorway. Knowing he had her back, Peri followed the guard down, fist clenched to hit him somewhere painful.

But the guard was out, his face bloody and his eyes closed. Resisting the urge to hit him anyway, she looked up as Jack shoved an older man in a suit into the office at gunpoint.

“Impressive,” the man said, nodding to the guard. “Is he dead?”

“No.” Peri stood.
What the hell?
she thought, unable to read Jack's tight expression. This couldn't be a test. They'd already had their yearly “surprise” evaluation job.

“Good. Keep it that way,” the man said as if he was in control, regardless of having no weapon, if Jack's hasty but thorough pat-down was any indication. “I've been meaning to take him off the payroll, but I'd prefer unemployment over a death benefit to his wife.”

This isn't how we do things
, Peri thought as Jack shoved the man into one of the cushy chairs, where he fixed his tie, affronted. Peri looked from the slightly overweight man to his photograph on the desk, posing with a stiff-looking woman in too much makeup. This was his office.
Bloody toothpicks, Bill will have a cow if I off a CEO
.

“I have what you came for,” the manicured, graying man said, his soft fingers reaching behind his coat to an inner pocket.

Peri lunged. Her knee landed between his legs and he gasped at the near miss. One hand forced his head back; the other pinned his reaching hand to the arm of the chair. “Don't move,” she whispered, and irritation replaced his shocked pain.

He wiggled, wincing when she shifted her knee a little tighter. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't be here myself,” the man said, his voice strained but angry. “Get off me.”

“Nah-uh,” she said, fingers digging into his neck in warning, then louder, “Jack?”

Jack eased close, the scent of his aftershave familiar as he reached behind the man's coat to slip free an envelope. It had Jack's name on it, and Peri went cold.
He knew we'd be here?

“Get off,” the older man said again, and this time, Peri eased back in uncertainty.

Jack passed his handgun to her, and she retreated to where she could see both the CEO and the downed guard. The crackle of the envelope was loud, and the older man readjusted himself, giving Peri a dark look. “What is it?” she asked, and Jack unfolded the paper inside and shook a pinky-nail-size memory chip into his hand. “Is it the files?”

Her attention shifted to the CEO when he palpated his privates as if estimating the damage. “No. I printed out the highlights to justify my request. You tell Bill that what I found warrants more than a paltry three percent,” he said, shaking his arms to fix the fall of his coat. “Three percent. I just saved his ass and he thinks I'm going to take three percent?”

“Jack?” Peri whispered, disliking her uncertainty.
He knows Bill? What's going on?

Face white, Jack angled the printed page to the faint light coming in the window. Fingers fumbling, he tipped the chip onto his glass phone. It lit up as the data downloaded, and Jack compared the two, going even more pale as he verified it.

The man leaned toward the side table, his gaze lingering on the foil hat before he took a chocolate from the dish. “You're very good, missy. Watching you . . . I'd believe you myself.” He smiled, white teeth gleaming in the ambient light.

Jack looked more angry than confused. Peri's gut knotted. The CEO knew Bill. Was he proposing a
deal
?

“You made a mistake.” Jack folded the paper around the chip and tucked it away with his phone.

The man snorted and put an ankle on a raised knee. “The only mistake is Bill thinking he can get something for nothing. He can do better. I only want a fair price for what I have.”

Shit
, Peri thought, her alarm mutating to anger. He was trying to buy them. They were Opti agents. Drafters and anchors had to be trustworthy to a fault or the government that trained them would literally kill them. Drafting time was too powerful a skill to hire out to the highest bidder, especially now.

Fear settled in her like old winter ice, cracked and pitted, as Jack cocked his head at the angle he always had when he was thinking hard, and a weird light was in his eye.

“Jack?” she said with sudden mistrust. “What's that list?”

His expression cleared. “Lies,” he said blandly. “All lies.”

The CEO bit into a chocolate. “The truth is far more damning than anything I could invent. It's a list, lovely woman, of corrupt Opti agents,” he said as he chewed. “Your name is on it.”

Photograph by Myra Klarman Photography

KIM HARRISON, author of the #1
New York Times
bestselling Hollows series, was born in Detroit and, after gaining her bachelor's degree in the sciences, she moved to South Carolina, where she remained until recently returning to Michigan because she missed the snow. When not at her desk, Kim is most likely to be found landscaping her new/old Victorian home, in the garden, or out on the links.

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Kim Harrison

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First Pocket Star Books ebook edition August 2015

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