Page 59 of Wicked Rush

“I’m going to be right here, Brae. Remember that while you’re in there. Two hours.”

“I’ve got this,” she breathed, afraid to look at him. As the door shut, she shoved her emotions as deep inside as she could manage. Fear. Love. Grief. She hated that she was falling for him, yet she’d lost grip of the situation. The only thing she could do was live with the consequences.

Wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and sneakers, she’d dressed casually, hoping that others would get the impression she hadn’t planned on staying in the office long. By the time she reached the front door, her mind had gone on autopilot. There were no choices, only tasks to be performed. Any mistakes could result in her death, she knew. If her uncle caught her stealing, he’d gladly hand her over to his friends to let them finish the job they’d set out to do several months ago. There would be no limit to the punishment he’d inflict on her.

Determined, she adjusted her sunglasses onto her head, and scanned her security card onto the reader. The door beeped, and she yanked it open. The sterile scent of the weekend’s floor cleaning burned her nostrils as she entered. With confidence, she approached the guard who held out his hands, reading her identification.

“Your bag, ma’am?”

“Of course,” she said, willing her hands to stop shaking as she handed it to him. Braelynn didn’t recognize his face but noted that he followed protocol as if he worked full time.

“No cell phones? Laptops? Recording devices?”

“No sir.” She reached for the sunglasses and handed them to him. “Oh sorry…forgot.”

He took them from her and set them aside on the table. “Tablets? Thumb drives?” he continued, searching every last pocket. “How long are you here for?”

“Just a few hours,” she responded, positive he wouldn’t find anything in her satchel. She’d packed only empty folders and a notepad, as well as a banana and a bottle of water, her typical morning snack.

“Whatcha doing here on the weekend?”

“Workin’.” Braelynn’s eyes darted to his gun. “Just catching up is all.”

“Go on through,” he instructed, nodding to the metal detector.

Braelynn strode through it, like she’d done every work day for the past nine months. But this time, every hair on her arms stood up as she did so. Relief flooded her as the alarm remained silent.

“Okay, then. Looks good.” As he went to return her bag, he hesitated. Braelynn remained calm, summoning courage. “You might want to be careful. The floors are wet all the way up. They waxed em’ good this time. Almost slipped and broke my neck earlier today.”

“Yeah, thanks. I know, right? They need to be a little more careful.” She gave him a warm smile and accepted her belongings.

Slinging it over her shoulder, she forced an impassive expression, and quickly made her way over to a bank of high-speed elevators that shot directly to the twentieth floor. The office building itself was located on the outskirts of San Diego city proper, and she often wondered who her uncle had had to pay off in order to build a tall building in the midst of a suburban area.

Braelynn entered the elevator, brushing her security card to the sensor. As the doors closed, she desperately yearned to collapse against the wall, but out of her peripheral vision she spied the small circular camera in the far corner. Not an inch of the building’s interior went unsupervised; all areas were recorded. She suspected even the bathrooms were monitored, since key cards were required for their use. Although she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she was aware that her uncle ran a central security office. The security team regularly roamed the hallways, wearing earpieces and firearms on their hips.

A ding sounded and the doors opened to the stark white interior of the hallway, its blinding bright lights causing her to squint. Composing herself, she looked in both directions before proceeding to her office. On a routine work day, the hallway was filled with the chatter of lab assistants and interns, but today, save for the soft squeak of her shoes, silence echoed throughout the empty space.

As she reached her office, she stilled, listening for errant noise. While she didn’t hear voices, the distinct sound of shuffling footsteps alerted her that she wasn’t alone. She quickly tapped her card to the reader and entered her office, the motion detection lights instantly illuminating its interior. Braelynn went straight to her desk, sat down and booted up her computer. Just another day at work, she told herself silently. I can do this. I can do this. She reached into her bag, retrieved her bottle of water, sipped it, and set it aside.

Braelynn glanced up to the fish-eye security camera located in the ceiling, and proceeded to work, all the while knowing she was being watched. She’d run through the scenario a million times in her mind. Retrieve the research. Destroy the remaining files following the instructions Garrett had given her. He’d promised that the sophisticated technology he’d given her would ensure that Bart-Aqua would have no way of recovering the files. In reality, she doubted her uncle or Shane had thought that far ahead. While they invested heavily in the manpower and physical resources, they slipped when it came to ensuring computer security. She was aware of at least one breach in the past month that had occurred in acquisitions, exposing data to customers who shouldn’t have had access.

Braelynn tapped on her keyboard, opening a few emails, and quickly responded. She opened the report her uncle had asked her to review. It was being sent to a group of investors on Monday, and needed her attention. She glanced to her watch, noting that nearly thirty minutes had passed since she left the car. Ninety minutes. Tick tock. Tick tock. She returned her attention to her screen. Pretending that she was reading, she stared at the words, yet the only thing that ran through her mind was the next steps. Ten minutes passed and she stretched her arms above her head.

With eyes on her every movement, she casually picked up the water bottle and stood. She glanced at the shriveled Boston fern that hung from the ceiling and shook her head, feigning concern. Reaching onto her tiptoes, she tilted its basket, sliding her fingers into its dry dirt. Braelynn dribbled water into the plant, searching for her hidden prize. Within seconds she located the tiny coin. The size of a dime, it had remained buried yet near the surface. Edging it upward, she carefully lifted it out until it dropped into her palm. As she closed her hand around it, she gave a fake cough, fisting it tightly.

She reached for a tissue and blew her nose, using the paper to dislodge any dirt around the disc’s surface. Bunching the tissue up into a wad, she threw it into the trashcan, keeping the coin concealed between her fingers. She sat back down at her desk, focusing on the computer. Sliding the small object into her jean pocket, she slowly exhaled, her heart pounding in her chest.

As she went to close the document, she startled as a knock sounded on her door. Shane. Braelynn calmly lifted her eyes to meet his, unable to conceal her contempt for the man who stood by and did nothing while her uncle killed her pet. When she’d first come to work at Bart-Aqua, she’d mistakenly thought he possessed a soul. With his striking good looks and amber eyes, the women in the office fought over him. Tall and muscular, he’d initially been like a dark angel. She’d observed him performing small acts of kindness on occasion. But Braelynn’s initial instincts had been proved wrong.

When it came to Armand Giordano, there was no grey area. Watching Shane kiss her uncle’s ass made her ill. Under no circumstances would Shane go against him. Leaving bruises on her arm had dispelled any notions that he could actually be a decent human being.

“You were supposed to be in here yesterday,” Shane stated.

“You killed my cat,” Braelynn replied with an icy tone. She supposed she could have pretended to care otherwise, but Shane knew her too well. It would have been out of character to respond any other way, and doing so would have raised his suspicion.

“I didn’t do it.” He took a step forward.

A sliver of confusion stabbed through her as she detected a hint of regret in his eyes. But even monsters could disguise themselves behind their beauty. Shane is a monster. A predator.