Switched (7 page)

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Authors: Helenkay Dimon

Tags: #Suspense

BOOK: Switched
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When Paul had emptied their joint bank account and moved out, sticking her with a rent payment she couldn’t afford, he’d made her life miserable. Then there were the credit cards he’d opened in her name and then didn’t pay. He’d ruined her credit, which led to her losing her bank job and many friends. Amazing how they assumed she was the problem rather than the victim, which made her wonder about the stories Paul had told her friends while she was out of the room.

The engineers at Buchanan had given her a chance to start over. She appreciated it, coveted it, but she wasn’t willing to die for it.

“You’re doing great.”

When she glanced up from staring at her hands, Aaron was looking at her. Those eyes gave away his concern. He acted tough and in charge, and he was, but she spied a layer of worry underneath. That bit of humanity made her heart turn over.

“I feel like I’m ten seconds away from imploding.”

He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. “That’s normal for the situation.”

She leaned into his hand and missed the touch the second after he pulled back. “I have no idea how you can use that word.”

“Situation?”

“Normal.”

A smile broke across his face. “Ah, that one.”

“Why did you lie?” She hadn’t meant to ask the question. Not now, not here. It popped out and she had no idea how to stuff it back in.

But since it was out there, all she wanted in the world, in that moment, other than to live from one minute to the next, was to understand his choices. When he went back to scanning the room in his stiff stance and with his flat mouth, she thought he was going to let the question hang there without an answer.

She sighed. “How long do we wait for Royal to come back?”

“You seemed content.” Aaron had turned his back to her, acting like a human shield, and pitched his voice low.

She heard him. Understanding the words took more effort. “What does that mean?”

He shifted until his body lined up next to hers. He didn’t face her. He stared ahead while his arm kissed her shoulder. “I live this bizarre life that sometimes comes with danger, and you sat in a coffeehouse humming some strange tune I’d never heard before and working on papers. I didn’t even intend to approach you that first time.”

“Why did you?”

He laughed. “I have no idea.”

“So the tax thing isn’t a line you use on all the ladies?”

He glanced at her then. One eyebrow lifted along with the corners of his mouth. “If I was making a play I would have said something sexier.”

“Real estate attorney?”

“Pilot. Firefighter. You seemed too smart for this one, but astronaut.”

“Oh, that’s kind of sexy.” Though she had to say, any guy with a gun and the whole ability-to-rescue thing was now number one on her hot-male-occupations list.

His body stiffened. It was as if every muscle clicked to alert status. “Problem.”

The change in him had her snapping to attention. “Another one?”

“Do you know how to shoot?”

“A gun?”

“Forget the long lesson. Take this.” He slipped a small gun out of an ankle holster and handed it to her.

The metal felt odd in her hands. She’d never handled a gun but expected something different. Something light and sleek that filled her with power.

She suspected the churning in her chest was more like dread. “I don’t think I can kill anyone.”

“Even if they’re coming at you?”

Forget being girlie. She wanted to live. “I just squeeze the trigger, right?”

He pointed out the safety and angled her so her back was flush against the solid corner of the room with nothing behind her and an unobstructed view in front, “Don’t shoot me or Royal, but don’t give anyone else even a second to talk. No hesitation.”

“You make it sound easy.” She turned the gun over in her hands, knowing holding it and shooting it were two very different things.

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

“You heard something.”

“Sensed something.” He took a few steps, this time heading toward the left, down the part of the hallway they hadn’t explored.

When Royal slipped around the corner and back into the open area in front of Aaron, both men froze in shooting position. All movement slowed, then cut off, as if someone had hit a giant stop button.

When their shoulders fell, her breathing started again. “False alarm.”

“I almost shot you.” Aaron lowered the gun to his side.

“Never would have gotten off the shot in time. I’m an expert at this sort of thing, remember?”

“What did you find on the roof?”

“Nothing. The door at the top of the stairwell has a lock on it.”

She wasn’t a security expert, but she knew about fire code. “That doesn’t sound safe. Maybe it’s part of the center’s soft opening. One of the glitches.”

Royal’s lips twisted in a frown. “It looked out of place.”

“I’m guessing we just figured out what these guns were doing up here.” When she frowned, Aaron continued explaining. “Blocking possible exits.”

Hope shriveled inside her. “There’s no way to misinterpret that. They trapped us inside.”

Something in her expression had Aaron turning back to Royal. “You sure there’s no way through?”

“This isn’t my first day on the job. I can shoot the lock off, but there’s a soldering iron on the floor and a tight seal around the door. Unless you’re carrying explosives, we’re out of luck on this one.”

While they argued gun size and trigger speed, she rested her cheek against the cool glass. She hadn’t realized her skin was on fire until she felt the relief.

In the time they’d been stuck in there, the sun had gone down and the sky had turned a soft gray. Flurries blew around under the streetlights, giving the trees Christmas-card softness.

Movement caught her attention. She saw people in the parking lot and walking around the grounds. There was enough light to see Elan staff huddled in groups and several partygoers heading to cars but being rounded up by men in suits.

Since Craft was the only group in the building except for a few strays like her, there were limited explanations. “Aaron? Everyone is outside.”

“What?” Both men rushed to her position at the window, but he got there first.

As far as she could see, the outside gathering was just one more incomprehensible event in a sequence of confusion. “Is the party over? And who are the guys in suits?”

Aaron put his hand against the glass. “They’re mine and they’re keeping people from leaving, which means they know something is wrong and they’re protecting evidence and witnesses.”

Royal lowered his weapon. “Good training will do that.”

“I don’t see Craft.”

“Or Palmer,” Royal said.

She’d never even heard the second name. At least, she couldn’t remember hearing it. So much had happened in such a short time. She could no longer keep track of everything. “Who is that?”

“The head of Craft’s security.”

The new information had her head spinning. “I thought that was your job.”

“I’m outside security. I own a company that provides backup in situations like these and takes the lead on others.”

Just when she figured out a definition for him, he changed the rules again. “A lawyer and a businessman.”

A small squeak of hinges had them all turning in the general direction of the stairway to the right, the same one Risa had used to get to this floor.

Aaron put a finger against his lips as he pushed her behind him. When she looked up, she stared at two wide backs. In the span of two seconds, they had closed in around her in a protective wall of male.

“Stevens.” The whisper of a male voice carried down the silent hall and bounced off the open beams of the construction zone. Footsteps echoed against the new floorboards. “What the hell?”

She guessed he’d found the barricaded bathroom door. This would be the start of the next wave of attacks. The danger kept ratcheting up and taking her heartbeat with it.

She’d give anything to be one of the lucky ones standing outside in the cold night air.

“We take this one alive.” Aaron spoke so low she would have thought he mouthed the words except she heard them.

She wanted to grab on to both her protectors and run screaming in the opposite direction. More shooting. The chance for more violence. The thought of Aaron being hurt…or worse. It all sent her stomach flopping.

Aaron pointed to the closest corner. “Stand there. Do not come out unless I tell you.”

She grabbed his sleeve before he could run away. “Aaron?”

“What is it?”

She wanted to say the words that would mean something in the moment. The right phrase to thank him for risking his life—again—but it didn’t come to her. So she leaned in and kissed him quick on the cheek. She wanted to say or do more, but the timing was wrong.

“Please be careful.”

He winked at her.

With soundless steps, Royal and Aaron crept across the room. They shifted in tandem, sweeping their guns and using hand signals to coordinate their movements. Not that they needed to go in covert. From the grunting and clanking, the newest attacker wasn’t exactly trying to be quiet.

They slipped around the corner one at a time. She had no idea how they kept from making noise, how the guy at the bathroom didn’t feel them coming. They weren’t exactly small.

When they moved out of sight, her full-fledged panic returned. Knowing they were tough and in charge was one thing. Seeing them control the situation would be better.

Just when she was about to race across the room, she heard a loud click.

“Don’t move!” Aaron’s shout thundered through the building.

She couldn’t stand there one more second. He’d yell, but she had to know what was happening.

Chapter Seven

“We need to get out of here.”

Even at his son’s outburst, Lowell didn’t look away from the information Palmer had spread out across the table. He stared at the set of floor plans and list of potential attack and rescue scenarios as he and the others sat around in chairs in relative quiet.

All but his difficult son.

Brandon walked around the room until he stood at the opposite end of the table, huffing and sighing and generally making sure everyone was watching him. The boy just did not know when to stop.

When no one talked to him or asked for his opinion, Brandon started the whole procedure again. If this went on for a few hours, he’d wear a track in the carpet.

“Not now, Brandon.”

The order didn’t work. The kid slapped a hand against the table. “Listen, this is not that hard. We can walk out the front door and call the police.”

Lowell was not impressed with the outburst. From the way Mark and Angie stared at Brandon, they weren’t, either. “We are cut off from everything and everyone.”

“We don’t have to be. There’s a roomful of people just down the hall. This is a hotel. People work here. I’m sure the town has a police force. We are the ones causing the separation, and that is more dangerous than being in a group.”

“You’re forgetting one very important piece of the puzzle. We also have missing security personnel. Until I know where they are and what, if anything, has happened to them, Palmer believes the company’s integral personnel should remain in here, in a contained environment.” Lowell leaned back in his chair.

If Brandon wanted a semipublic scene, Lowell had no trouble giving him one. He needed an outlet for the fury burning through his gut at having been targeted at his office Christmas party. He’d taken the precautions, hired the personnel and still someone got through. Someone who was wasting his time with nonsense.

“You see, Brandon, this is a grown-up situation. One where we have to weigh the pros and cons and not just rush in and do what feels right. There are consequences. That’s the lesson I cannot seem to get through to you. It’s not one of your video games.”

“I haven’t played those in years, not that you know anything about my life. Not that any of that is even relevant to the discussion.”

“Everyone knows about your life. It’s been in the news and the subject of gossip all over town.”

Brandon’s jaw clenched. “This is not about me. We are sitting here, waiting to get attacked, when we should be moving.”

Lowell hated to admit it and would never say it out loud, but the kid had a point. Lowell questioned the current strategy. He also wondered if the man he hired for protection was really working against him. The idea of Aaron being taken out was hard to imagine. That left few options.

For more than a half hour, Lowell had been mentally running through the people who benefitted from him being removed from the company. There were so few, but that’s exactly what the threats demanded. Aaron’s
initial insight might have been correct—this wasn’t about money. This felt personal, as if someone wanted him destroyed.

When the silence dragged on, Angie cleared her throat. “Your father knows what he’s doing.”

“No one is talking to you.”

“Since I am part of this company and you’re not, you should watch how you talk to me.”

Brandon leaned across the table, his fury alive and flailing. “I do not have to listen to you.”

“Your father is right about you. You’re a spoiled brat.”

“Shut up.”

Angie looked at Lowell, but he wasn’t inclined to step in just yet. Not when Brandon finally showed some toughness in front of others instead of cowering behind his family name.

Her chin rose in a sign of defiance he’d seen before. She aimed whatever anger streamed through her at Brandon. “How dare you talk to me that way?”

“You are nothing more than my father’s—”

Lowell snapped out of his wait-and-see stance. “Brandon, that’s enough.”

“You’re right.” He pushed off the table and stood up. “I’m leaving. I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need to wait for permission.”

Palmer stepped in front of the room’s only door, blocking any exit. “No one is going anywhere until I figure out who started all of this.”

“What are you saying?”

“Exactly what you think.”

“You believe it was me.” Brandon said it as a statement instead of a question.

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