“Sir, I’m begging you to reconsider.”
“Begging does not an ounce of good. Results matter to me. You know this. Retrieve the information or you will never see your family alive again.”
If someone on Kathrein’s extensive staff had already tried and failed to crack the secure storage site, she couldn’t possibly hope to succeed long distance. The inevitable scenarios played like a house of horrors tour in her mind. “Wait! Please, I need more than a week.” Lucy floundered for a believable excuse. “I’ll have to return to the States.” For the first time in years, the plane trip would be the least of her challenges.
“One week, Lucille. Not a single hour more.”
“Don’t hurt them,” she pleaded. Silence was the reply. He’d ended the call. She reflexively redialed Gwen’s number. No answer. Tears rolled down her cheeks. How could he threaten Jackson? Just last week, he’d stooped over the stroller and smiled warmly at the baby during one of Gwen’s walks around the estate. Kathrein must have lost his mind. Clearly a crazy man held the lives of her sister and nephew in his arthritic hand. Damn it. No matter what her insane boss believed, cracking a Gray Box was not possible.
She upended the envelope and poked through the contents. Along with a substantial amount of cash, presumably to assist with her travel expenses, Kathrein had provided detailed background on investigative journalist Mathieu Garmeaux. How had this one man gathered secrets damaging enough to push Kathrein to such an extreme and irrational response?
Kathrein probably assumed Lucy could magically derive the man’s username and password from the background. Not likely. She dashed away her tears with the back of her hand, forcing herself to concentrate on solutions rather than the cold dread sinking into her bones. If Garmeaux would be reasonable, if she could convince him to help her, maybe she could avoid a pointless attack on a secure Gray Box and she could get her family back by morning.
Nothing lost by asking, she decided. She booted up her laptop and did a preliminary search for the man based on the background provided. First she’d send an email and follow that with a phone call. Or not. Her stomach sank at the first search result.
Mathieu Garmeaux, based in Paris, had died two weeks ago, the victim of a traffic accident just a few blocks from his apartment.
Dear God. Lucy dropped her head into her hands and flexed her fingertips hard into her scalp, tugging on her hair as the dates lined up in her mind. She’d been with Mr. Kathrein in Paris at the time. In light of the kidnapping it seemed far more likely that the journalist’s motorcycle had lost the fight with a panel truck on purpose. If Kathrein had had Garmeaux killed, what wouldn’t he do to gain control of the documents?
A shudder racked her shoulders as she brought up an airline website and booked the next available flight to San Francisco. Gwen and Jackson were counting on her and, like Mr. Kathrein, she would do anything to save her family. Oh, she hated having even that much in common with the wretched old man. Air travel and returning to Rush Grayson’s territory were small costs compared to the priceless value of the people who mattered most to her.
Her ticket booked, she tried not to think of anything but the next step and failed miserably. Knowing she’d be facing the man who’d broken her heart last year had her agonizing over every item of clothing as she packed. Circumstances aside, deceiving Rush went against her nature. Though he’d hurt her, she’d never wanted to hurt him. Saving Gwen and Jackson meant damaging the Gray Box reputation, and that left a sour taste in her mouth.
“Can’t be helped,” she said aloud. Zipping her luggage closed, she called for the car and driver to take her to the airport. As the estate faded into the distance behind the car, Lucy’s thoughts bounced from past to present and leapfrogged into the near and distant future.
Starting with a business introduction and a surprising mutual respect, she and Rush had developed a friendship that had become so much more. Chills raced along her skin at the memories she couldn’t suppress. She’d been foolish enough to fall in love and he’d been smart enough to adhere to his personal boundaries.
Despite the knowledge that their business interests and efforts had served them both well, she didn’t entertain any illusion that he’d be particularly happy to see her on a personal level. What Kathrein required of her would push the mutual professional respect across a bed of hot coals.
If by some miracle she succeeded in her task, her foolish heart’s persistent, feathery hope to someday reconcile with Rush would be blown out of reach forever.
San Francisco, California
Wednesday, December 16, 11:45 a.m.
Rush Grayson returned to his new company headquarters in the Financial District absolutely frustrated. He’d walked out on the morning meeting after more than an hour of zero progress. Time was precious and he refused to waste it. If the prospective client didn’t experience an attitude adjustment soon, they could find a different security solution for their data. It wouldn’t be as effective as the system he’d designed, but that wasn’t his problem.
He’d learned the hard way to walk away and let go. His desire to help others didn’t mean they wanted his help. He had to remember Gray Box was no longer at the point where one contract would make or break the company.
He took the express elevator up to the executive office suite and the stress fell away when the doors parted and he entered his domain. His journey to the top hadn’t always been pretty, but he’d made sure the gorgeous view he enjoyed now rewarded him every day.
“Good morning, Melva.” He paused at the receptionist’s desk to pick up his messages. With a little more life experience than Rush or any of the other executives on the floor, the woman had been a godsend, keeping them all grounded with the discreet, calm professionalism he wanted to project to clients and competitors alike.
“How was the meeting?” she asked, peering at him over her bold, red cheaters.
“I lost patience and walked out.” He shrugged. “How has the day been treating you?”
“Glorious, thank you.” She flicked a hand at the stunning, panoramic views of San Francisco beyond the glass walls surrounding the space. “Your messages.” She slid a stack of small paper squares across the marble counter.
Rush grinned. Although everything within Gray Box systems was completely electronic now, she insisted on backing up phone message emails with her old-school habit. He loved it.
“You have a visitor waiting in your office.” Melva’s practiced smile turned warm, almost affectionate.
The expression stopped Rush short. Melva had used that particular soft smile with only one person and that person was now rusticating in France, working for a musty old man with almost as much money as Rush. He turned slowly toward his office suite, which occupied one full corner of the floor, noticing the brunette seated in the waiting area near his assistant’s desk.
“Where is Trisha?”
Melva’s lips flatlined with disapproval at the mention of his assistant’s name. She’d never warmed to his current girlfriend. It didn’t help that since he and Trisha had been involved personally, he had yet to find a more suitable place for her within the company. “It appears she is away from her desk,” Melva stated.
His gaze swept over the other glass-walled offices and conference rooms. “I can see that.” Just as he could see the long, glossy sweep of his unexpected guest’s hair falling straight and sleek well past her shoulders. His pulse kicked, though he knew it couldn’t be the woman he most wanted to see. Despite Melva’s warmth, he knew that very special brunette was in France. Still, his body moved automatically, propelling him closer as if hope alone would change the stark reality.
He wanted to stride on into his office like a consummate professional, giving his assistant room to do her job and make introductions, but