HelenKay Dimon - Under the Gun

“Yeah, I know.”

“We’re talking about my life here, Luke.”

“This is confidential information.” He said the words but didn’t do anything to hide the monitor from her view.

“Then why do you have it, Mr. Antiques Expert?”

Another window opened. This one had the D.C.

Police logo on it. A few more strokes and Luke entered another password. The page that popped up looked like a bank statement.

“Other than violating about a thousand state and federal laws, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Checking for evidence that Phil is alive. Phone and bank records. Something that would support your theory about Phil setting this up to make it look like you killed him so he had cover to run.”

“That’s exactly what happened.”

Luke’s gaze did not leave the monitor. “So you keep saying.”

“You don’t work for the FBI.”

“I already said no.”

“Or the police.”

“Still no.”

Wariness spiraled through her. He had access to all sorts of information he shouldn’t have access to. “Exactly what side do you work for?”

Luke stopped typing long enough to stare at her. “Do you really care?”

“Yes.” She said the word but didn’t mean it. Her question wasn’t about following the rules. It was about trying to figure out who he was—the man he claimed to be or the one who carried a gun.

Luke hit a few more keys and then sat back in his chair. “There’s nothing on Phil. No sign of life at all. He hasn’t accessed any account or anything else in the three weeks since he disappeared.”

“The man is a multimillionaire.”

“I seem to remember you mentioning that when you left me for him.”

She dug her fingernails into the arms of the chair to keep from shaking him. “Phil has money hidden all over the place.

“None of it’s moving.”

Luke didn’t believe her. The fact hit her with enough force to push the breath out of her lungs on a whoosh. Desperation bubbled in her stomach. She had to move before it ran up her throat and she embarrassed herself.

She got up and paced the few feet between her chair and the open door to the office. A few steps and she could hit the hallway, run as fast as possible for the door and hope his injury slowed him down enough to let her get away.

“Don’t even think about it.” Luke issued the threat without moving an inch.

If he worried that she was about to make a break for it, he sure wasn’t showing it. Open hand, relaxed shoulders, even a small smile playing on this mouth. Yeah, he was sure he had her under control. She saw it in every line of his body.

He was hiding more than his real profession. Behind the passwords and key cards there might not be an easy way out of what looked like an otherwise normal office. Still, she had to try.

She moved her foot closer to the hallway to test her theory. If the door slammed shut and locked her in, she’d deal with his anger then. It wasn’t as if Luke trusted her, anyway. He probably expected her to bolt. Was waiting for it.

She inched the same foot outside the office. Her gaze stayed locked on Luke. He taunted her by leaning back further into his oversize leather chair. With one last deep breath she stepped out of the doorway. She turned her head to look down the hall.

A second later the barrel of a gun pressed hard against her forehead. She bit back a scream as she stared into the blue eyes of a stranger dressed all in black.

Adrenaline pumping, she raised her hands in surrender. “It’s okay. I’m here with Luke.”

The other man’s smile never reached his eyes. “Luke who?”

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