Skin Tight (3 page)

That was unacceptable.

He just needed to find the right angle. Maybe one of the geeky techs would be amenable to seduction. At this point, it was the only approach he hadn’t tried. There were no other weaknesses in security; he’d already tested it extensively. If nothing else, that alone confirmed he’d come to the right place. The lab part of the complex wouldn’t be locked down if they didn’t have impressive secrets to keep.

He had a feeling he knew exactly what they were hiding.

The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Strong, your two o’clock is here.”

His jaw clenched. Glenna meant well, but she was both managing and proprietary, so she wanted to know where he was at all times in case someone called looking for him. Strong wasn’t used to accounting for his movements; working for prior employers, he’d grown used to a certain amount of freedom, as they had cared more about results than schedules.

He tapped the button to answer. “Great. Send him in.”

This joker wanted to talk about possible career advancement. He worked in Accounting, but he wanted lab management. He’d seen an interior job posting and sought to apply for it, even though his résumé was years too light and his education somewhat inadequate. Jenkins was convinced he had what it took, however, and spent forty-five minutes telling Strong what he thought he wanted to hear.

“I’m a people person,” Jenkins was saying. “I can get results, too. They like me. I’m wasted in Accounting. Any dork can crunch numbers. But give me five minutes with a guy, and I can tell you exactly what makes him tick.”

This should be good.

Strong raised a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Yep.” Confident he was on the right track, Jenkins leaned forward. “Want me to analyze you?”

He smiled. “Absolutely.”

“You live alone,” Jenkins began. “You’re career-driven, so you put work ahead of relationships. You’re self-contained and professional, but you enjoy the outdoors. I can tell that by the calluses on your hands.” He paused, as if to assess the effect of his recitation.

“Very good, Mr. Jenkins.” Strong was careful to keep his expression noncommittal.

But frankly, that wasn’t half-bad. He was inclined to favor the guy’s application to get him out of Accounting. Best to send Jenkins back to his desk before he noticed anything else, however.

Strong’s days had become a miserable wasteland of such appointments. Glenna was too efficient to permit gaps in his calendar that allowed him to roam around the facility. Sometimes he manufactured events to cover his absence, but if that happened too often, she started asking questions. Unfortunately, she was clever, honest, and hardworking.

He would have liked very much to fire her. There was no cause, however, and he had a soft spot for her, as much as she annoyed him. He did his best to live up to the image she cherished of him because her wildest dreams were oddly sweet, innocent in a way that moved him. At this point, all Glenna wanted from life was a fair boss who appreciated her work and respected her efforts. He couldn’t punish her for that.

By the time he got rid of Jenkins, it was nearly three. He scanned the list of new hires, and one name jumped out at him. Mary had a woman named Mia Sauter in for orientation today, but it couldn’t be the same one. Though he’d prefer to check out the new hire, he had two disciplinary cases and a directors meeting thereafter, which took him well past five. And so he’d wasted another day. He wasn’t used to such a crushing lack of progress. It was unthinkable he could get this close to finishing what he’d started and come up against an impassable wall.

Tomorrow would be different. It had to be.

He stepped into the hallway. It was quiet in the complex this late. Most admin staff went home promptly at five, trusting that their work could keep until the morning. The meeting had run long, however, with a couple of blowhards squabbling about God only knew what. Strong had learned months back to appear attentive while in fact he heard nothing.

As he strode toward the exit, he heard the delicate clicking of feminine heels. Someone had worked nearly as late as him tonight. He hastened his step, half hoping to encounter one of the lab techs, even though he knew it was unlikely by the sound of her shoes. Lab techs wore sneakers or comfortable crepe soles.

When he came around the corner, he stopped walking. Shock ricocheted through him. He recognized this woman, even from the back. Last year, he’d spent enough time staring at the swell of her ass to know it in his sleep. If that wasn’t enough, she was dressed in one of her familiar, sharply tailored suits and she had her raven hair bound in a complicated twist at the nape of her neck. The black pumps made the most of her legs, giving her calves a tremendously sexy curve.

His heart gave an unsteady, excited thump at seeing her after all these months. He calmed himself with some effort. Her reasons for being here had nothing to do with him. Thinking back, he recalled she worked as a consultant, specializing in corporate embezzlement. Intriguing to find her here. That meant there was trouble on the premises, something they needed an expert to resolve. It was more telling that they’d hired her without his knowledge, presented her as a fait accompli as a private interview candidate. Upper management had the right to take on help if they so chose, but the task usually fell to him. Perhaps the silence meant they didn’t trust him.

Or did her presence mean someone high up the food chain had gotten cold feet? Started withdrawing his share of the profits to make a run for it? He might be able to leverage that once he discovered the identity of that individual.

Having Mia Sauter around would complicate his life, no question. He’d fought the attraction in Vegas, knowing it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t let her get close to him; he couldn’t bear her pain when she realized he was everything she wanted . . . and no one in particular. Since Lexie’s accident, few things retained the capacity to touch him, but Mia’s expression when she realized he’d betrayed her to Serrano still put razors to his skin.

It would be painful to see her every day, but if their paths crossed, he would just have to treat her with polite indifference. She’d never know him. Nobody ever did.

For no reason he could fathom, she paused with one hand on the metal handle of the door. He froze. She appeared to be staring at his image in the glass, and then she whirled. Anger sparked from her in near-visible waves as she stalked back toward him. Judging by her look, she recognized him.

He stood frozen. This was unprecedented. He was clad in the armor of expectation. She should have no reason to expect to find him here. Ergo, he should be someone else in her eyes, someone she’d never seen.

And yet she jabbed her finger into his sternum, contempt tightening her mouth. “What are you doing here? I told you, I only contacted you for Kyra. Nothing else could have impelled me to get in touch with you.”

His breath went out in a rush. There was no mistaking her recognition now, but he tried to play it off. Perhaps he could convince her she was mistaken. “I’m sorry, miss. Do I know you?”

Another jab with her index finger. “Do you think this is
funny
, Foster?” Then her gaze narrowed on his badge. “Or should I say Strong? What are you up to? Maybe you’re the one who’s—”

“Shhh.” He tried to glare her into silence, but she was having none of it. Luckily the cameras here didn’t pick up sound, or he might have had some explaining to do. “I’m sure you have questions, but we can’t talk here.”

“Oh, no,” she bit out. “The last time I fell for your cloak-and-dagger bullshit, I wound up tied to a chair. You tell me what’s going on,
right now
, or I march back to my desk and call Collins. I’m supposed to report any irregularity around here, so I’m sure he’d be interested in what I know about you.”

Beneath her anger, he could see the wound. She’d trusted him. So few people did; Lexie had been one of them, and look what it cost her.

“Mia, please.” He felt strange and off-kilter.

Nobody
ever
saw him. He couldn’t stem the irrational hope that she was different. He had no right to wish for it, nor did he deserve it, but even if she hated him, it meant more than she could ever realize to be certain she looked at him and saw the same face as he saw in the reflection in his mirror.

“You’re a bastard,” she said quietly. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t turn you in.”

Mia thought she
must be dreaming.

In the past months, she’d thought of him more than once, usually with him at her mercy. She’d never thought that day would come to pass, but here they were. He looked the same: clever more than handsome, sharp, tailored, and ruthless.

“One good reason? Right. Well, they’d never believe you,” he said quietly. “My background is flawless, and if you go raving to Collins, he’ll fire you. I know for a fact he’s looking for an excuse. The man doesn’t like you . . . I can’t imagine why.”

Her lips compressed. She suspected he told the truth, which left her in a less than desirable bargaining position. Mia hated having to do this, but sometimes there was no choice but to walk away and live to fight another day.

“When I bring him proof of what you’re up to, it won’t matter if he likes me. I’ll enjoy seeing you in jail.”

He stepped past her as if the conversation was over and pushed through into the twilight. Without intending to, Mia followed him. She didn’t like people walking away from her. He stopped then, wheeling to face her.

“If you have a brain in your pretty head, you’ll leave me alone. I’m not stealing from the company, and that’s all you need to know.”

“Well, certainly, if you
say
so. God knows your word is as good as gold.”

He tensed. “I mean it. Stay away from me, Mia.”

“Obviously you don’t know me if you think you can warn me off,” she said. “I’m going to find out what you’re doing here. And when I do, you’d better hope you’re miles away, because there will be a reckoning.”

Foster—or Strong, whoever the hell he was—smiled and offered a casual wave, probably to appease anyone who might be watching. If she followed him now, it would lend credence to his claims that she was an unhinged stalker. She knew how he’d spin this, and if he succeeded, a black spot would stain her currently flawless résumé. Since she’d worked damn hard to build her reputation, that prospect pissed her off.

Right now, she could only proceed to her car. Mia walked to the Focus and got in, trying to look unconcerned. The drive gave her time to think.

If she hadn’t been so startled to see him, she might’ve played this differently. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to recognize him, which was odd, given that he looked the same. He hadn’t even changed the cut of his hair, so his surprise made no sense. It hadn’t been long enough for her to forget either.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She remembered everything all too clearly, and that was part of the problem.

She recalled sitting with him in that diner, listening to his reassurances that he’d make sure no harm came to Kyra. She recalled her fear when she realized someone was tailing her. So she’d come to him, expecting him to protect her.

Instead, he gave her to his boss and used her as bait. Twenty-four hours in a dark house with nothing but tepid tap water. Her shoulders ached with remembered agony. If Kyra and Reyes hadn’t come for her, there was no telling what might have happened.

She hated feeling powerless; she hated feeling stupid. That day, she had nearly choked on both sensations. Foster was responsible for the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and she wanted him to suffer for it. Maybe it wasn’t prudent, but she’d dig up the dirt on him, as well as locate the embezzler; she’d always been better than average at multitasking.

Those dark thoughts occupied her until she reached the turnoff to her borrowed condo. She parked in her assigned space and went in through the front door. “Hi, Peaches, I’m home.”

It was a bit unusual to have something waiting for her, even if it was someone else’s pet. The cat had apparently decided she was better than nothing because it twined around her ankles, leaving ginger fur on her pristine black slacks. Mia leaned down and gave it a tentative scratch; the animal rewarded her with a motorboat of a purr.

“What do you think?” she asked it. “Can we make this work?”

It led the way into the kitchen, where she refilled its food dish. Mia took that as an affirmative, as long as she remembered her place. She wandered through the condo, examining bits of the Caldwells’ lives. Generally she stayed in furnished units, devoid of any personal touches, so she wasn’t used to framed photographs and mementos of a full life surrounding her.

They’d even left the food in their cupboards for her to use. Mia rummaged and came up with a can of soup. Any other night, she’d have ordered in, but she felt oddly off center. There were no menus in a drawer by the phone. This was somebody’s
home
. It was weird, but she felt like something was wrong and she couldn’t put her finger on what.

Banishing the slight melancholy the word roused in her, she ate her food at the tiny kitchen table and then went to the bedroom to change. She was staying in the guest room, less personal than the master bedroom. A shower made her feel a little better, and by the time she changed into her pajamas, she’d shrugged off the odd mood.

Mia gathered her notes from the day’s work and went over them in front of the TV. For obvious reasons, she didn’t use her laptop to log her findings. That information could be accessed remotely, so she used a notepad. Low-tech, yes, but after factoring in her personal shorthand, it meant nobody but her would be reading what she wrote down.

Thus far, there wasn’t much to see, just a list of people who worked in Accounting. Mia wasn’t convinced the guilty party even worked there; it just made sense to try to lay the blame there, as those employees had access to certain accounts. That meant she had a lot of ground to cover and only eighty-nine days in which to do so.