Tori Carrington - Unbridled

“Jesus,” Laney said, leaning her hand against the trunk of her car. “What are you trying to do? Scare the spirits out of me?”

He reached out and took her briefcase from her other hand, setting it closer to the car door. “Was that the best you could do? Swing your bag?”

Laney managed to get her breathing under control and stood straight. “You mean you were deliberately trying to frighten me? To see what I would do?”

He grinned. “No. I wasn’t. But in hindsight, I suppose my stepping out like that probably wasn’t the smartest move.”

“You can say that again.”

“I think once is enough.”

“Funny. Very funny.” Laney rubbed her arms. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

He tucked his hands into his front jeans pockets. “I wanted to get you that information I promised. Sorry it’s so late. But I told my neighbor that I’d help him repair his fence. Turned into a two-day job and I just finally knocked off.” He glanced toward the elevator. “I figured you as the workaholic type, so I thought it was a pretty good bet you’d still be here. And since the lobby was closed, this was my best chance for entry.”

“Yes, well,” she said, looking around at shadows that didn’t seem as sinister with Carter at her side. “I’ll have to have a talk with management about this.”

“Might be a good idea. At least they could make sure the parking attendant doesn’t think sleeping with his feet up on the counter is part of his job description.”

“How did you know this was my car?”

“Educated guess.” He gestured toward the luxury vehicle. “But that’s not what drew me over this way. I’d planned to come up to the office.”

She grimaced at him as he stepped to the side, revealing the flat front tire.

“Great,” she said, exasperated, wondering if her auto service could gain access to the garage.

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Carter said, “if the other tire wasn’t flat, too. One flat tire, fate. Two? Someone wanted to make it difficult for you to get home tonight.”

Laney slowly walked toward the front of the car, considering the damage.

“See that,” Carter said, pointing to the sidewall. “Looks like a knife slash.”

Laney shuddered, feeling as if a knife-wielding stranger was in front of her instead of long gone.

“What’s this?” she said.

She leaned forward, spotting a note under the wiper, not unlike the one she’d received in the mail a couple of days ago. She pulled it out.

“Drop the MacGregor case. Now.” Next to the words was the number two.

“That doesn’t look good to me,” Carter said, his voice low and gravelly. “That doesn’t look good to me at all.”

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