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“Rodarte, and the hell he doesn’t,” he said, pushing the words out. “Listen to me. He’s dangerous. Given a chance, he would hurt you, in ways you probably can’t even imagine. This is no bullshit. He—”
“Laura?”
They jumped guiltily at the sound of another voice. She turned and spotted Joe McDonald approaching them from the next row over. “Hi, Joe,” she called, trying to sound normal and glad to see him.
“Remember what I told you,” Griff said in an undertone, then he walked quickly away.
Forcing herself to move, Laura headed off the marketing head, who was looking curiously after Griff’s tall figure as he wove between the rows of cars. “Who was that?”
“Someone cutting across our parking lot. Lucky for me. He saw me lugging the box with the Select model in it and offered to carry it for me.”
“Where was the guard at the door?”
“He wasn’t there when I came through, and I didn’t want to wait.” Without it being obvious, she steered Joe toward the entrance. “I’m eager to get the model home and show Foster.”
“So tonight’s the big night?”
“It is. Wish me luck.”
As they approached the entrance, she glanced casually over her shoulder. Griff Burkett had disappeared.
CHAPTER
16
LAURA DIDN’T TELL FOSTER ABOUT GRIFF BURKETT’S UNEXPECTED appearance.
Ordinarily she didn’t keep anything from her husband. But she was reluctant to share Burkett’s warning about a man in a green car because even a hint of her being in danger would send Foster into a tailspin. He would respond in typical Foster fashion; she would have armed guards within an hour.
Furthermore, she wanted nothing else competing for Foster’s attention tonight.
She changed clothes before coming down to dinner, putting on a simple black dress that was one of his favorites. She took extra time with her hair and makeup. She applied fragrance.
Descending the staircase, she realized she had butterflies, and that nervousness surprised her. But then, she reminded herself, she’d been preparing for this night for months. A little stage fright was understandable.
She barely touched her meal, but Foster didn’t notice because he was enthusiastically telling her about a new exercise Manuelo had incorporated into his physical therapy sessions.
“It’s helping to strengthen my back and arms. I’ve noticed a big improvement already.”
“Did he learn the technique at that seminar you enrolled him in last month?”
“Yes. Obviously he’s a quick study.”
“He would be even quicker if he knew English.”
“He’s a very proud man.”
“How would learning English damage his pride?”
“He would regard it as a betrayal of his heritage.”
Before she could comment further, he asked about her day at the office. “I’m glad you mentioned it,” she said, giving him a mischievous smile. “I have a surprise for you after dinner.”
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When they were done with the meal, she asked him to follow her from the dining room. He rolled the wheels of his chair forward and backward three times before moving ahead. He’d adopted that habit a few weeks ago.
Also, plastic containers of hand sanitizer had begun showing up everywhere. Initially he’d used them when he thought she wasn’t looking. Now dozens of them were scattered throughout the house so that one was always within Foster’s reach. Cleanliness and germ killing had always been obsessions, but these recent signs of his OCD disturbed her. She would insist he speak with his psychiatrist about these manifestations.
