Ava Gray - Skin Tight

Mia had liked Kelly Clark. Søren hadn’t known the woman personally, but he’d seen her in the halls at Micor. She didn’t deserve to die alone, terrified and in agony. Søren wished he could’ve inflicted more pain on Bruce Travis, but that would have required a different setup and more time than he could afford to devote to the endeavor.

Next, he dialed the number; his mimicry came in handy there. After arranging the meet, Søren pulled off his mask and pocketed his garrote. The last thing he needed was someone to spy him out of a window and start screaming.

The world was better off now, no question. Before stepping out of the motel room, he did the other guests a service and turned down the volume on the TV. As a final goodwill gesture, he searched the room from top to bottom and found a gray duffel bag full of money stashed in one of the ceiling panels. That, Søren took as well.

And I didn’t even break the lamps.

He made his movements slow and casual. Not those of a man fleeing the scene of a crime. Nobody saw him come down the stairs, and he avoided the cameras on the property. He had no ability to wipe them, unless he did so manually, so it was better to be cautious.

As he retraced his steps to the car, he passed a ramshackle church that doubled as a homeless shelter. Even with night coming on and a chill in the air, there were a few men loitering outside. There was a donation drop box, presumably for food and clothes, beside the cracked front stoop.

It was the right thing to do, he thought. Without hesitation, he shoved the bag down into the slot, forcing it through until he heard it hit bottom. Then he continued on his way. A light rain began to fall, making him glad of the gloves.

To the best of his knowledge, Mia had never sent that e-mail telling her friend what was happening. If Kyra didn’t hear something soon, she’d come barreling into the situation with all of the finesse of a Weedwacker, and more than likely, she’d have Reyes in tow. He couldn’t allow them to exacerbate the situation.

Søren drove to a better part of town before setting up the satellite on the roof of the vehicle. He could steal signal from one of the businesses nearby, but he didn’t want the IP to give away his location. Feeling vaguely guilty, he logged in using Mia’s account information, read some of their exchanges to get a feel for how Mia would communicate with Kyra, and then he typed:

Met a guy. Things are complicated. I’ll talk to you soon.

He felt like an absolute shit hitting send, but the truth would scare Kyra to death. She and Reyes were good at what they did, but they weren’t subtle, and he wouldn’t risk Mia’s safety with wild cards in play. He could handle this. He would. Nothing had ever been so important.

Hesitating for a few seconds, hands over the keyboard, he typed the words in the search bar and soon he had an answer. Jane Doe identified: Local woman Noreen Daniels has been claimed by next of kin and will be buried in two days. He stopped reading then, fixating on her picture beside the article. Noreen had been young and pretty, dark-eyed and vivacious; he could tell by her broad, open smile. More interesting, she wore a large saint medallion, which had a border of leaves.

“That made the imprint on her hands,” he whispered.

Whatever they’d done to her, however they’d done it, she had died praying for mercy, praying for deliverance. Oh, God, not Mia. Not. Mia.

Gathering his composure, he disassembled the rig on the roof and moved on. No need to attract police attention by loitering. He’d get a room now. The killer’s phone felt heavy in his pocket, his one link to saving Mia.

Now he just had to wait.

Things were falling into place.

Rowan smiled in satisfaction as he read the e-mail from the liaison. It appeared that the idiot had come through a second time. He had the male accomplice in custody and wanted to turn him over for a bonus. Excellent. The liaison wondered if he would like to make use of the man, rather than wasting the parts.

Ordinarily, he would say no, but as “Smith” already knew, due to intelligence Rowan had provided, the male wasn’t Thomas Strong. Mia Sauter wasn’t the real threat; she was bait. When a lab tech pointed out a discrepancy in Strong’s medical records, Rowan took it upon himself to verify.

And indeed, Thomas Strong was not AB negative. Which meant the man posing as him-and working with Mia Sauter-had to be someone else. With that information in mind, it had been child’s play to pull a DNA sample from the HR office. Thank God for the slovenly cleaning service.

Rowan now knew that Thomas Strong was Søren Frost, a test subject who had eluded Foundation agents for years. And Rowan was about to scoop him up. The board of directors would be so pleased; too bad he no longer cared what they thought. He had moved beyond their petty concerns.

It was a pity he had no data on Frost or the man’s abilities, but he would find out soon enough. Frost couldn’t be very powerful if the hired muscle had managed to trap him. With a pleased smile, Rowan sent the information regarding the rendezvous.

At this point, his shift was almost over, and he had a decision to make. He only had time for one visit, but now he had two desirable females awaiting his company. It was a most diverting development. After hard consideration, he realized he must see Gillie. She would feel neglected if he didn’t show her how special she was to him. In the end, Mia’s presence changed nothing of his ultimate plans; he enjoyed her intellect, but her dark, sharp looks engendered little physiological response. No, for Jasper Rowan, it always had been-and always would be-Gillie.

He closed down his equipment and hurried down the hall to her quarters. Now that he considered, it seemed like a long time since he’d called on her. How could he have been so selfish? She must’ve been so lonely, longing to see him.

Like a gentleman, he knocked on the door before he entered. He didn’t want to distress her, should she be engaged in some less-than-ladylike activity. As always, her apartment was tidy, the magazines he approved for her enjoyment fanned neatly on the coffee table. His decorum was rewarded when she stepped out of the restroom.

Her eyes shone when she caught sight of him, and it was all he could do not to take her hands and kiss them. Rowan felt like a monster for having spent his free time playing chess with Mia Sauter. Was this what men who had affairs felt like? How disgusting.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

This was surely the moment to tell her. The news would make up for his recent neglect. “I have something important to share with you. Can we sit down?”

With lithe grace she moved to the kitchen table and took a seat. “Of course.”

“Soon, my dear Gillie, we’re going to leave here. I cannot bear to keep you locked up. The board doesn’t care about my work or your well-being. They only want the money.”

“So we’re going away?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes, darling. We’ll be together as we’ve always wanted.”

Her gasp excited him almost beyond all bearing. His penis stiffened, pressing against his zipper. Rowan imagined her lying in bed, all innocence and submission. She’d never been touched, never known desire. God, how he wanted her. He could teach her so much.

But not down here. He must restrain himself until she could give herself to him freely, no longer bound to the project. Instead, she would be with him for love, longing, and her great respect for his vision.

“When?” she asked finally, as if she couldn’t believe her good fortune.

“No more than a couple of weeks. I must tie up some loose ends and complete a couple of key negotiations first. You can be strong that long, can’t you?”