Rules In Blackmail. Nichole SevernЧитать онлайн книгу.
“You have exactly five seconds to talk, or I start shooting.” Sullivan Bishop slipped his finger alongside the gun’s trigger.
“I’m not armed.” The woman in his sights raised her hands to shoulder level, but didn’t make another move. She might’ve been pretty, but in his experience, pretty faces were the best at hiding lies. And the lean dark-haired woman standing in the middle of his office had one of the prettiest faces he’d ever seen. Knowing her, she’d come armed. “I want to talk. Figured this would be the best place to do it.”
He balanced his weight between both feet. His heart pumped hard as he tightened his grip around the Glock. How long had it been since Jane Reise—the legendary JAG Corps prosecutor herself—had crossed his mind? Nine months? Ten? Didn’t matter. Nobody uninvited strolled into Blackhawk Security and stepped back through those doors without answering for something.
Jane had a lot to answer for.
“And you thought breaking into my private security company after hours was your best plan? How the hell did you get in here?” Sullivan closed in on her one inch at a time while he listened for movement on the rest of the floor. How had she gotten past his security system? Blackhawk Security provided top-of-the-line security measures, including cameras, body-heat sensors, motion detectors and more. Whatever the client needed, they delivered. Sometimes those services included personal protection, investigating, logistical support to the US government and personal recovery. They did it all. But right now, his gut instincts were telling him Jane wasn’t standing in his office for some added security around her town house.
“Would you believe me if I said I came to hire you?” She swiped her tongue over her full bottom lip. Dropping her hands to her side, she scanned the rest of the office and widened her stance. Moonlight, coming through the wall of windows looking over downtown Anchorage, splayed across one half of her face. It washed out the brilliant color of her hazel eyes he’d studied from her file all those months ago. She was far more beautiful in person—no argument there—but the cord of tension stiffening her neck darkened her features.
“You’re kidding, right?” This was a joke. Had to be. Sullivan stopped no more than five feet from her, a quick burst of laughter rumbling through his chest. The gun grew heavy in his hand. He lowered it to his side but wouldn’t holster the Glock until he was certain she’d come unarmed. “I’m the last person on this planet who’d help you.”
Jane scanned the office a second time, looking everywhere but at him. Even in the dark, Sullivan swore the color drained from her face.
“I never meant...” She cleared her throat, determination wiping away the momentary fall of her features. “You have every reason to laugh in my face and shove me out the door, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. The police don’t have any leads, and I can’t get the army involved. Not yet.”
“Involved in what?” Flipping on the overhead lights, Sullivan saw what she’d tried to hide by sticking to the shadows of his office. She squinted against the onslaught of brightness. Dark circles had taken up residence under her eyes, a sort of hollowness thinning her cheeks. Her normally athletic and lean frame seemed smaller than he remembered from her photos, as though she’d lost not only weight but any muscle she’d gained from her current stint in the army. The white T-shirt and black cargo jacket washed color from her skin but didn’t detract from her overall beauty. Still, something was wrong. This wasn’t the same woman who’d stood in front of a judge a year ago and ripped apart his family.
“I’m being watched.” The corner of her mouth twitched as though she were biting the inside of her cheek. Her shoulders rose on a deep inhale. “Stalked.”
The fear in her voice twisted his insides—would twist any man’s insides—but Sullivan didn’t respond. It was a counterintelligence tactic. Keep your mouth shut, and the target was more likely to fill the silence. If she was lying, he’d know by the way her eyes darted to the left or how she held her arms around her middle.
“They’ve been in my house and my car. I don’t know where else.” Jane brushed a piece of short dark hair behind her ear and the strong, confident woman he’d studied from the surveillance photos and video taken during the trial disappeared. “If the army knew about this, they’d limit my security clearance, and I could lose my job. I called in an anonymous tip to the police, but—”
“The case isn’t high on their list.” He understood the way the Anchorage Police Department worked. Until there was an actual threat on Jane’s life, they had more important cases to work. That’d been one of the reasons Sullivan had founded Blackhawk Security in the first place. Aside from providing investigative services for government officials and witnesses to crimes, his team protected victims law enforcement couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. But taking on Jane’s case...
She wasn’t lying, at least not from what he could tell, but helping her wasn’t exactly high on his priority list either. “Do you have proof?”
With a quick nod of her perfectly angled chin, she drew her cell phone from her jacket pocket, swiping her finger across the screen. A few more clicks and she offered him the phone. “I found this picture of me sleeping in my bed yesterday morning. It’s dated two nights ago, around midnight.”
He took the phone from her and his index finger brushed against the side of her hand. The lack of warmth in her skin caught his attention, and he pulled back. Studying the photo taken with her own phone, Sullivan fought the urge to tighten his grip on the device. The idea of a man—any man—taking photos of a woman without her permission built pressure behind his sternum. A woman shouldn’t be afraid, shouldn’t have to look over her shoulder. Not ever. “Any ideas of who could’ve broken in?”
“No.” Her defeated answer wisped out from between her lips, drawing his attention up. Eyes wide, she shook her head slightly. “I live alone.”
Then, barring a random break-in, she most definitely had a stalker. Handing the phone back to her, Sullivan ensured his fingers didn’t touch hers again. His insides had already caught fire from an intruder breaking into his highly secure office. He didn’t need anything else clouding his head. “Does anyone else have a key to your apartment? Maybe an old boyfriend who hasn’t gotten the idea you two are over?”
With another shake of her head, her hair swung slightly below her earlobes. “No. I don’t...” Jane cocked her head to the side as she shrugged. “I don’t have any old boyfriends. Not since I went into the army.”
Which was five years ago, according to her military record. Sullivan’s fingers twitched at his side. “And what about your case files? Anyone not—” he ground his back teeth “—happy with the way you handled their case?”
Aside from him, that was.
Her lips thinned as she rolled them between her teeth. “Not that I know of, but I have all the files for the cases I was assigned back at my house if you want to go through them.”
Not going to happen. He shoved the Glock into his shoulder holster, the adrenaline rush draining from his veins. Despite getting past his security system, Jane wasn’t a threat. Yet. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Okay, what then?” She rolled her shoulders back but didn’t move otherwise. Did she realize how much he blamed her for what happened and didn’t want to take the chance of getting close? He liked to think so. She’d prosecuted dozens of devoted soldiers—men and women who’d sworn to protect this country, men like him—and she wanted his help? The woman was insane.
Captain Jane Reise was responsible for his brother’s suicide. She didn’t deserve an ounce of pity from him.
Spinning toward his desk, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. “This is