Lynn Huggins Blackburn - Covert Justice

“Do you have a lot of trouble with corporate espionage?”

Blake couldn’t resist the opportunity to brag. “We make things no one else can make. Sure, we produce a lot of stuff that’s standard—your basic water bottles, food containers, chemical containers—but over the past ten years, we’ve built a reputation for making specialty containers no one else will even attempt. We make unique shapes and if we can’t make it, no one can. This year we landed a huge account for water bottles shaped like footballs, basketballs and baseballs. Our client has already sold them to over thirty professional teams. They hit baseball parks this summer. That account alone doubled the production on our specialty lines.”

She didn’t seem as impressed as she should be.

“We have some fierce competitors out there who would love to get an inside look at what we do.”

Heidi raised her hands. “Okay. Okay. You guys are the best. I’m not disputing your status. But I know the Kovacs, and corporate espionage isn’t their style,” she said. “He’s here to do more than steal some trade secrets.”

“Care to be more specific?”

Heidi looked down. “I can’t.”

“You what?”

“I can’t be more specific, because I don’t know. That’s what I’m here to find out.”

* * *

Blake sat back in his chair. Heidi watched as the struggle to grasp her words played out across his face. They sat in silence for several minutes before he cleared his throat. “What does any of this have to do with me getting run off the road last night?”

There it was. The question she’d been waiting for and the one she dreaded answering. “I don’t know. I’m hoping you might be able to help with that.”

Skepticism radiated from his face. “Me?”

“One of the things that has bugged me from the beginning is why Markos chose HPI.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“You make plastic containers. What’s dangerous about plastic? Sure, you store chemicals in high quantity, but he’d be able to get those in other places—places run by men who don’t have your reputation for high moral standards. I can’t figure out the connection between what you do at HPI and what he could be planning. But after last night, I’m certain of one thing.”

“What?”

“He believes you are standing in his way.”

Blake stood and paced around the small living room. He’d taken this far better than she’d expected. He hadn’t thrown anything. He hadn’t asked her to leave. He hadn’t refused to believe her. His mind had to be in turmoil, but he didn’t appear rattled. If anything, he looked like a man who was formulating a plan of action.

No. Not what she’d expected at all.

He turned to her. “Are you hungry?”

“Hungry?”

“Yes. I’m starving. How do you feel about pizza?”

“My feelings are generally favorable toward anything that involves cheese.”

A true smile flickered across his face and Heidi looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. Dark hair with a hint of curl. Dark brown eyes. Strong chin. He reminded her of the brooding movie stars of the ’40s. Until he smiled. His smile did something funny to her, but she didn’t have the time or inclination to explore the emotion.

He pondered the phone in his hand. “Is it safe for me to have a pizza delivered?”

She could tell he was trying to keep things light, even as he processed the seriousness of the situation. “It should be, but to be sure, you can use my phone.”

He took her phone and dialed the number from memory. “What do you like?”

“Meat. The more the better.”

He widened his eyes at her. “I’d have taken you for a vegetarian.”

“I’d starve.”

He placed the order and returned her phone before settling back into his chair. He grimaced as he sat. He had to be hurting.

He pulled in a deep breath and winced again. He could use the accident as a cop-out. He could tell her he didn’t feel well and needed to get some rest. Most people would.

Not Blake Harrison. “I want to talk more about this situation, but first, I need to know more about you.”

Heidi wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but it was a fair question. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“Who are you?” Frustration oozed from his words. She needed to remember he’d had less than thirty minutes to come to terms with some life-altering news.

“My name is Heidi Zimmerman. I’m an FBI agent and for the past ten years, the Kovac family has been my primary assignment.”

“Ten years? How old are you?”

“It’s none of your business, but I’m thirty-two. I joined the Bureau straight out of college. Virginia Tech. I have a degree in mechanical engineering and a minor in accounting.”

“Interesting combination.”

“The Kovacs own several manufacturing enterprises. I’ve gone undercover as an engineer more than once.”

“How’d you wind up with the FBI?”

Heidi gave him the answer she gave to anyone who asked. “I was always interested in law enforcement. Seemed exciting and fulfilling. So I went for it.”

Blake studied her, then shook his head. “I’ve believed pretty much everything you’ve said, but I don’t think that’s the real reason.”

Heidi froze. How could he—?

“If you don’t want to tell me, fine. Spare me the slick story that could be an advertisement for the FBI recruiters to use. It doesn’t suit you.”

Heidi didn’t answer right away. She hadn’t expected Blake Harrison to be so perceptive. But the truth? The truth wasn’t something she shared. Ever. She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to live to fight another day.

“I didn’t lie,” she said. Blake started to argue with her but she cut him off. “I grew up rough. There were a few police officers who made a huge impact on me. Then this FBI agent saved my life.” She’d skated into dangerous territory and decided to keep it vague. “By the time I graduated from high school, I had my heart set on joining the FBI, but with my background, I didn’t know if the FBI would take me. I chose college courses so I could work in something other than law enforcement if plan A didn’t pan out.”

She hadn’t come anywhere close to telling him the whole truth, but not one word of what she’d said was a lie. She gave him time to process her words.

“Why are you embarrassed about your childhood?” he finally asked.

How had he made that leap? And how annoying that he was right. “Look, not everyone has a Norman Rockwell upbringing. Mine isn’t something I talk about. When people ask, I give them the recruiting-poster version. It’s cleaner. And most people don’t like messy.”

He nodded. “That I believe. But you shouldn’t assume my life has been all sunshine and roses.”

No. She knew about that. She’d had background checks run on the entire Harrison family. Not because they were suspects, but more than one operation had gone south because an agent hadn’t done their homework.

The Harrisons had checked out. An American success story. Family-owned business, strong family, loyal employees.

Except for one.

Blake closed his eyes and shook his head. “You know about Lana, don’t you?”

She wouldn’t deny it.

“Do I even want to know how you know?”

“Background checks are a standard part of an operation like this.” His eyes flashed and Heidi pressed on. Might as well rip the bandage off in one quick pull. “As soon as Markos got the job, I ran background checks and financials on your entire family. Even pulled some reports on your grandparents, looking for any connection to the Kovacs, however slight. I didn’t find anything that raised any red flags.”