Shadow: A Linear Tactical Romantic Suspense Standalone, page 7
The man turned his back to her and reached down to get her sweater off the back of her chair, but when he turned back around, instead of handing her the jacket, he had a gun in his hand.
She took a step back.
“Where’s the chip?” He made his way around the desk, the gun still pointed directly at her.
“What chip?”
“You’re Lyn Norris, right? This is your office?”
“Who are you?”
The man took a step forward and grabbed her arm, eyes flinty. “Where is the microchip?”
Lyn had no idea what he was talking about. “Listen, I know I work on a floor with mostly engineering faculty, but I’m a linguistics student. I don’t know anything about microchips or stuff like that.”
He took a step toward her, armed raised to strike. They both heard the bell of the elevator chime and the creaky wheels of a cart.
Heath.
The man quickly peeled off his coveralls and grabbed her by the arm again. He kept his gun pointed at her ribs, the clothing covering it from view.
“You’re coming with me. If you say anything to anyone as we leave, I will kill that person and shoot you in your kneecap. Got it?”
Oh God.
Lyn nodded, not trusting herself to talk. She took a couple of deep breaths. Her heart was doing okay. She needed to keep it that way.
He led her out of her office, closing the door behind them.
Pushing his cleaning cart ahead of him, Heath ambled down the hallway toward them.
“I have to say hi to Patrick or else he’ll get suspicious. We always say hello to each other.”
As they neared Heath, the man gripped her arm tighter. Heath was whistling, although he stopped when he saw Lyn and the man.
“Hi, Patrick. Have a good weekend, okay?”
Bok. Was she making the situation worse by calling Heath by the wrong name? There was no reason he would think something was wrong; he would just think she was crazy.
She prayed he wouldn’t bring up last night or their kiss. She glanced up at his brown eyes. His face remained neutral, but his eyes narrowed just slightly.
“See you later, Dr. Norris. Have a good day.”
She fought not to expel a relieved breath. Heath had caught on that something wasn’t right. He never called her Dr. Norris, only Dr. Almost.
But what was he going to do, squirt the bad guy with window cleaner? The man had a gun. Heath had a custodial cart. She nodded at Heath as they passed and kept walking.
Lyn didn’t know what microchip the man wanted, but she didn’t have it. And she knew leaving the building with him would be disastrous. She’d have to take a chance that the man wasn’t willing to shoot her since he thought she had something he wanted. Or maybe Heath would figure out to call security and someone would stop the guy downstairs.
But as they continued walking, she knew she couldn’t take that chance. If this guy got her out of the building and away from other people, Lyn wasn’t coming out of this alive.
They approached the break room. It was the only room on this floor Lyn knew of that had two doors, and because it was on a corner that let out into two different halls. It was her best bet.
She pulled away from the man just as they passed the door. She hadn’t provided any resistance so far, so he wasn’t expecting it now. She threw her head back, cracking him in the nose, and elbowed him in the gut at the same time.
Guy let out a howl of pain. “Goddamn bitch—”
Lyn ran. He lurched for her but missed. She sprinted into the break room, pulling down a huge pile of books on the table by the door. Maybe that would slow him down some.
She ducked behind one of the large shelves, planning to make her way around it and dart out the door she’d come through. After a moment, she dipped her head around one side and didn’t see the guy, so she stepped all the way around the shelf.
He was standing right there. And he was pissed. Blood dripped from his nose. “Going somewhere?”
He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. Lyn recoiled as his fist came flying toward her face—
Only to stop mid-punch as his whole body went soaring.
Heath covered him, having managed some sort of silent side-tackle.
Lyn scrambled back. “Be careful, he has a gun.”
She wasn’t sure how she could best help Heath. His opponent was obviously a trained criminal.
But it didn’t take more than a few moments to realize Heath didn’t need much help. He was giving as good as he got.
“Get out, call security,” Heath muttered between taking a punch in the gut and flipping around on the ground so he could elbow the guy in the face.
Lyn turned to run, but the thug grabbed her ankle and pulled hard, sending her sprawling on the ground. She scampered away, but the battle between Heath and the guy knocked into the bookshelf, toppling huge piles of books onto her. She couldn’t stop her cry of pain as the heavy texts cascaded over her.
She watched as the entire shelf leaned in her direction.
“Lyn!” Heath let go of the guy and dove for her, deflecting some of the books with his arm. He caught the falling bookshelf, arms straining from the awkward angle where he lay on the floor, giving her time to get out of the way.
The man took advantage of Heath’s distraction and fled.
Heath pushed the falling shelf in another direction, then jumped to his feet to steady other shelves as they began to wobble also.
“You okay?” he asked once they were secure.
“I think so.”
“I’m going after him.”
“But—”
She swallowed her words as Heath pulled a small gun out of a holster at his ankle and took off after the thug.
“—that guy’s dangerous.”
No one heard her words; Heath was gone. Running after the bad guy.
No. In pursuit of the bad guy. She had to call it what it was.
Her world spun, but it had nothing to do with the books that had hit her. One thing she knew for sure: Heath Smith was not just a janitor.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By the time Heath made it into the hall, the guy was gone. He chased down the main hall toward the elevator but didn’t see him. Damn it. There were three sets of stairs he could’ve taken. And Heath wasn’t about to risk leaving Lyn alone in case the guy doubled back.
He had no idea who the man was. Definitely not someone who was regularly in this building.
He got out his phone and sent a message to Craig. Somebody needed to gather any evidence from the break room. Craig was going to have to decide if he wanted the local PD to do it or send someone himself.
What the hell did that guy want with Lyn?
When Heath had first seen them walking down the hallway, he’d immediately tensed. And not even because he was doing his damned job and concerned about possible danger. But because seeing Lyn that close to another man had raised his hackles like he was some Neanderthal.
He didn’t like it. And he was so caught up in not liking it that he might’ve missed she was in danger altogether if she hadn’t clued him in.
The moment she’d called him Patrick, it was like everything shifted and fell into place. Heath saw the jacket strategically draped over the guy’s arm concealing a weapon. He saw Lyn’s pinched face.
He tried to reassure her, but would she even remember he normally called her “Dr. Almost”? And even if she did, would she figure out he understood she was under duress?
It had been smart of her to make a play at the break room, but all those damn books were dangerous. His heart had caught in his chest at the sight of them falling over on her. He jogged back down the hall now to make sure she was all right.
She had made it off the floor and was wisely hiding behind another shelf when he entered.
“Lyn?”
“Oh holy merda. Are you okay? I wasn’t sure what I should do. I called security.” She hesitated the slightest bit.
He wanted to smile at her Italian curse but couldn’t. His cover had to be blown. It had to be. She was too smart not to have figured it out when he pulled his weapon. But he still tried to keep his words neutral. “I’ve also called some people to have this place processed and checked for prints. The guy wasn’t wearing any gloves.”
“His gun is over there too.” She pointed toward a row of bookshelves.
Heath nodded. He’d seen it when he’d walked back in. Hopefully, running the prints and the gun would provide some information.
He crossed a little closer to her. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you in any way?”
“Not as much as some of those statistical analysis texts when they fell.”
He could already see a large bruise forming on her forearm where she’d raised it to protect her head. Good thing she had or they’d be on the way to the hospital right now. He reached out and touched the arm she cradled, stroking it gently.
“Better statistical analysis than a bullet,” he murmured. All of this could’ve gone so much worse.
She took a step back, moving out of his reach. “I guess you don’t have to clean this up, do you?”
He grimaced. Holy merda indeed. “We shouldn’t touch anything until the police arrive.”
“You know what I mean, Heath. If that’s even your real name. You are the police.”
He sighed. He couldn’t give Lyn all the information about the case, but he could at least answer the essential questions she was getting at.
“Yes, I’m working for the FBI.” That was basically all the info he could give her. “And yes, my name is Heath. But my last name is Kavanaugh, not Smith.”
“Are you here because of me? Did my father send you to protect me or something—like some sort of bodyguard?”
What? “No. I have no idea who your father is. I’m not working for him.”
She continued to cradle her arm. “So you’re on some sort of a case. That’s why you’ve been working as a janitor.” They weren’t questions. It seemed almost old hat to her.
“Yes. But I can’t go into any details right now.”
She nodded. “Does it have something to do with a microchip?”
Heath’s eyes whipped to hers. “Why do you ask that?”
“That’s what the guy with the gun was asking about. He wanted me to give him the microchip.”
“Do you know anything about that?”
She shook her head. “I had no idea what he was talking about. I figured he had me confused with someone else on this floor. I came into my office, and he was going through my stuff.”
Why would he have been searching Lyn’s office? It would’ve only taken the slightest bit of background info to know she wasn’t part of the biomedical engineering department.
Heath stepped out into the hallway and began checking office doors to see if they had been forced. Maybe the guy had been hoping to get lucky by searching all the offices. But even as the thought formed, Heath knew that wasn’t the case. It would be too sloppy and take too long.
“Do you mind if I take a look at your office?”
She shook her head and led him down the hall. He studied the other doors as they went—none of them appeared to have been tampered with. Everything was pretty empty, but for a Friday around lunch, that wasn’t unusual.
She’d interrupted the guy during the search, that was obvious. But something as small as a microchip? It could be anywhere.
“I don’t know why he would think I have something like a microchip. I’m not even sure I know what a microchip looks like.”
Heath turned and saw her huddling against the doorframe of her office. Her face was pale, eyes too large in her face. She was still holding her arm against her body and honestly looked like she might fall over any second.
Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she was crashing hard. Heath took a few steps toward her in case he needed to catch her. But she backed farther away.
Not interested in him touching her right now—got it. But he still wanted to be close in case she toppled.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
“Not too bad, I guess.” She put a hand over her heart. “I just . . .”
When she trailed off he finished for her. “You’re coming down from the adrenaline rush. It can be pretty overwhelming.”
“Yeah, I don’t feel so good. Plus, I didn’t have lunch.” She pointed to the leftovers she’d set on a small table by the door. “Or coffee.”
He reached for her slowly again, thankful when she didn’t shy away this time, then eased her into a chair by her desk and grabbed the plastic container.
“It’s still pretty warm. Think you could eat a little bit? That will help regulate your blood sugar. You burned through a lot of calories when your adrenal medulla kicked into overdrive. Cortisol can play havoc with your system.”
She stared at him for a long time before taking the food.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m trying to adjust to words about adrenal medulla and cortisol coming out of your mouth, Mr. Custodian.”
Heath pursed his lips. Yeah, he deserved that.
His phone buzzed. It was a message from Craig. He was sending local PD to process but was coming to supervise the scene himself. Heath’s cover would stay in place. The locals would be told it was a burglary gone wrong.
As long as he could convince Lyn to keep quiet. He rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure he could convince Lyn to do anything right now. She wasn’t screaming at him, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t angry.
“The police are going to be here soon. There will be a forensic team combing the break room, then in here. As soon as there’s a federal agent available to supervise, I’ll come back and get you.”
“Will I need to talk to the police?”
“If you don’t mind, it would be better if you don’t. The official word that will go out to the college and local police is that this was a burglary that I walked in on—we’ll try to keep it as low-key as possible in order to keep my cover intact.”
She had set her food aside but was sipping her coffee, or at least holding it between her hands like it could ward off bad juju. “I still don’t understand everything that’s going on here.”
She stared at him, her brown eyes impossibly big behind her glasses. He walked over to her—almost not of his own will—and crouched down beside her.
“I know. And I’ll explain what I can. But not here.”
He expected arguments, demands. Instead, she just nodded like his answer hadn’t surprised her at all.
She was taking this like a champ. Or maybe refusing to process it at all.
He stood and touched her shoulder as his phone chirped again. Local PD was here. He needed to get to the break room.
“Stay here until I come back to get you. I have my keys, so don’t open the door to anyone.”
“Do you think someone might come back for me?”
“No, but I want to know you’re safe.” He had to know she was safe. Seeing that bookshelf fall toward her was going to plague his nightmares for a long time.
The microchip mattered, this case mattered, but Lyn mattered more. Hopefully, someone had just gotten their intel wrong and had mistakenly come after her. But Heath wasn’t taking any chances.
He waited until she nodded then left, closing the door behind him.
CHAPTER NINE
Lyn sat staring at the closed door for a long time.
Heath had been right about the cortisol and the adrenal medulla and the crashing stuff. Fifteen minutes ago, she’d felt like she could leap over a building.
Now she was struggling not to collapse out of her chair.
She’d taken one of her antiarrhythmic pills from her pocket as soon as Heath had run off after the bad guy. Taking another one now was probably a good idea. Her heart still stuttered slightly even though her body seemed to have zero energy.
This was what she hated about The Brothers’ line of work, and even Dad’s before he’d gone into politics. She’d seen the toll danger had taken on them: the adrenaline spikes, the crashes, the mood swings. Soldiers, cops . . . it was the same. Two of her three brothers were divorced, and her two cousins—also in the fighting-danger line of work—suffered from PTSD to some degree.
And yet they all, every single one of them, craved the danger like they were junkies.
Lyn had never been interested in that feeling. She never would’ve chosen law enforcement or the military even if her heart could’ve taken the stress. She’d buried herself in academia, about as far away from her family’s chosen careers as she could get.
As far away from Heath’s chosen career as she could get.
She’d known instinctively from the moment she’d first seen him that he was more than just someone who cleaned classrooms and emptied trash. He’d been too aware, too strong, too much.
How he’d handled the situation in the elevator on Wednesday should have sealed it for her. His calm and focus. How he’d systematically worked through the issues and possibilities then figured out what to do.
How he’d reached down and lifted her up as if she weighed nothing.
The signs that there was more to him than met the eye had been present the whole time. Heath had deliberately downplayed those signs, but Lyn had still seen them.
Any other woman would be thrilled that the man who had kissed her senseless the night before was some sort of secret agent rather than a janitor.
Not Lyn. In her opinion, this widened the gap between them. Before, he’d been more physically attractive and better at social situations than she’d been, but at least—considering their two professions—Lyn had thought she had the upper hand a little when it came to education. It had provided her a small measure of assurance.
Given what she’d just found out? She’d probably even lost that upper hand. Obviously, Heath was of more than average intelligence if he was successfully living two lives while keeping everyone else from noticing.
At least he wasn’t here as some sort of glorified bodyguard from Dad. He would’ve already reported back to Dad about her real major.
