INTERNAL MEMO

TO: All staff

FROM: Victoria Colby

RE: Love in the Workplace

I am proud to announce that many of our colleagues have recently tied the knot. I’d like to think that the Colby Agency is responsible for the latest crop of wedding announcements! Please join me in celebrating the nuptials of Katherine Roertson and Jack Raine, Nick Foster and Laura Proctor, Ian Michaels and Nicole Reed, Trevor Sloan and Rachel Larson, Rick Martinez and Piper Ryan, Alex Preston and Mitch Hayden, and Zach Ashton and Elizabeth McCormick.

Who will be next?

Contract Bride
Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually she met and married the man of her dreams and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a day-care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and they finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jennifer Ballard—The daughter of pharmaceuticals magnate Austin Ballard. Who is she really? She can’t seem to prove her true identity, but one thing is certain…someone wants her dead.

Ethan Delaney—Former Special Forces soldier turned Colby Agency investigator. If anyone can prove the identity of the real Jennifer Ballard, it’s Ethan. But can he keep her safe and not lose his heart, as he has sworn he will never again do?

Victoria Colby—The head of the Colby Agency.

David Crane—A vice president at Ballard Pharmaceuticals and the fiancé of the real Jennifer Ballard. Is Crane friend or foe? After all, he did once save Ethan’s life.

Dr. Kessler—The genius behind a new, revolutionary cancer drug. Is he simply out for revenge against Ballard Pharmaceuticals?

Lucas Camp—The deputy director of a highly covert government organization. A very good friend of Victoria Colby’s.

John Logan—A specialist in Lucas’s organization.

Simon Ruhl—One of the Colby Agency’s finest.

Amy Wells—A receptionist at the Colby Agency.

This book is dedicated to the kind of friend who doesn’t come along very often. A lady with whom you can share your hopes and dreams and, most important, your accomplishments. But more than anything she has been there for me—always. She has been my cheerleader, my confidante and my advisor. I can never thank her enough. This one is for you, Lyn Stone. For all your kind words and understanding, for all your praise and faith…for being a true friend.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Prologue

Jennifer Ballard stared at her reflection in the cheval mirror once more, anticipation swirling inside her. A veil of French netting draped her shoulders and the exquisite headpiece adorned her upswept blond hair. The fitted bodice of her gown was heavily embellished with pearl and sequin detailing and the flowing satin skirt and chapel-length train were the stuff of which Cinderella-dreams were made.

She drew in a deep, calming breath. This was her wedding day—the day she’d waited for her entire life.

She’d always dreamed of a wedding exactly like this. A fairy-tale chapel set upon a wooded hillside…a handsome groom who would love and protect her from this day forward. Though much older than she, David Crane was both kind and compassionate. She respected him personally as well as professionally. He didn’t quite make her heart go pitter-patter, but there was much more to life than that. He understood her, respected her work, and more important, her father trusted him implicitly.

Her father. A fresh wave of tears brimmed. If only he was well enough to be here, but he wasn’t. He’d insisted she not delay her wedding for him. Instead, he’d asked his old friend, Russell Gardner, to be his stand-in and give her away. Jenn smiled a little at that. She loved Russell, too. She’d called him Uncle Russ for as long as she could remember. If her father couldn’t give her away, there was no one else she would prefer to do the honor.

The sound of the dressing-room door opening startled Jenn from her musings. She turned to see who’d violated the strict rule that no one was to see the bride until the wedding march sounded.

She smiled in spite of herself. “Uncle Russ, what—?”

He lunged, half stumbling, across the tiny room and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You must run, Jenn. Run as far and as fast as you can.”

Worry stole into her heart. “I don’t understand. Has something happened to my father?”

Russ shook her hard. “Listen to me,” he said hoarsely. “Run!”

Only then did Jenn notice the pallor of his complexion, and the tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s happened?”

“It’s Crane,” he said tightly, as if it pained him to speak. “You mustn’t believe anything he says. He’s lied…” A strangled groan rendered the rest of his words unintelligible.

“What are you saying?” She couldn’t have heard him right. She knew David. He would never lie, certainly not to her. Russ tried to continue, but swayed as if too weak to stand. She steadied him. “Please tell me what’s wrong!”

“The Kessler Project. There’s something very…wrong,” he murmured. “He’s lied about all of it. Your life is in grave danger…there are things you don’t know…”

His knees buckled and he collapsed in Jenn’s arms. “Oh, God!” She staggered beneath his weight as she lowered him to the floor. He was unconscious. She started to shake him, but the bright crimson stain painted down the front of her dress captured her attention.

Blood.

Now, with the lapels of his tuxedo jacket flared open, she could see that Russ was bleeding. She stared down at his still form, shock settling over her. A small round hole in his chest was steadily leaking the dark life-giving fluid.

He’d been shot.

Commanding herself to act, she checked his pulse. Her own heart pounded. Her fingers shook with fear. No pulse.

Dear God, she had to get help.

“He’s in here.”

Jenn’s head snapped up at the sound of David’s voice. She hadn’t even realized he’d come in. Three of his friends followed. Had something happened outside? Something she hadn’t heard? Thank God he was here.

David would help.

“Russ needs an ambulance!” she shouted, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Please, she prayed, make them hurry.

“Get him out of here,” David directed.

Two of David’s friends picked up a deathly still Russ and started for the door.

“What are they doing?” Jenn asked, a new kind of terror welling in her chest. “Where are they taking him? Someone needs to be doing CPR. He isn’t…”

David just looked at her, his eyes completely empty of emotion.

She pushed to her feet. Her knees wobbled. The whole scene felt surreal…like a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. “Didn’t you hear me?” she demanded of her fiancé. “He needs help. He’s dying!”

David adjusted the jacket of his elegant tux, then turned to the man at his side. “Kill her.”

Chapter One

“No,” Ethan Delaney said firmly. “I don’t do freelance work. You’ll have to find yourself another man.”

The man on the other end of the line pulled out all the stops with a last-ditch effort to persuade him to reconsider. The offer jumped to a cool million.

Ethan just shook his head. Anyone who offered that much money was likely up to no good. Especially since they wanted to keep the mission hush-hush and refused to go to the police. Retrieving a supposedly kidnapped relative from a third-world country where drugs were the number-one export was just plain asking for trouble.

“Good day, Mr. Santiago,” Ethan said, then hung up.

Some people just couldn’t take no for an answer. Ethan was a Colby agent. He took his assignments from one person and one person only. Victoria Colby. Of course, most of the time those orders were passed along to him by Ian Michaels, her second in command. But Ethan didn’t mind that. He liked Ian. Ethan grinned. He liked the guy’s wife even better. Nicole was really something. She worked at the Colby Agency now, as well, in research mostly. Ian didn’t want the mother of his child doing fieldwork. Ethan couldn’t blame him. If he had a woman like that, he’d take good care of her, too.

But that wasn’t going to happen. He would never allow himself to get that close to another human being again. Nowadays he kept things simple…uncomplicated.

A light tap on his office door drew Ethan’s attention in that direction. Amy Wells smiled at him before stepping inside.

“Hey, Ethan,” she said as she placed a couple of reports in his inbox. She was young…very young. Only twenty-three, if memory served him right. And about as naive as they came. “Mildred asked me to drop off the reports Victoria signed.”

He leaned back in his chair and gifted the Colby Agency’s receptionist with a high-voltage smile. “Good morning, Amy. I appreciate you delivering those personally.”

That was all it took. She blushed and immediately started to back out of his office. “Have a nice day.”

“It would be a lot nicer if you’d agree to have lunch with me,” he suggested, knowing full well what her reaction would be.

Her eyes rounded. “I—I…ah…think I’ll probably have to work right through lunch.”

He shook his head solemnly and blew out a breath as if weary of her rejections. “That’s a shame.”

“Gotta go!” she almost squeaked.

Ethan chuckled as he watched her all but fly from his office. Her answer was the same every time. The kid was afraid of her shadow and considered him to be some sort of bogeyman. He loved to tease her.

The intercom on his desk buzzed and he pressed the speaker button. “Delaney here.”

“Ethan, could you come to my office, please.”

Victoria. “Sure thing.” He pushed back from his desk and stood. “On my way.”

Ethan left his office and strolled down the richly carpeted corridor. He winked at Amy as he passed the arched entryway that led to the vacant reception area. She abruptly looked away, color rising in her cheeks once more.

Elegantly appointed furnishings and tasteful decorating lent the perfect ambiance to the prestigious agency. From the moment a prospective client entered those polished mahogany doors, there was never any question as to the caliber of the staff housed here. But as on most Mondays, it was quiet.

The Colby Agency was the best in the business of private investigations and personal protection. No one even got close to matching Victoria Colby’s stellar reputation. She had clients from all over the world. She had a staff of highly qualified, handpicked investigators.

That had been the thing that made Ethan take a second look when she had recruited him. At thirty-one, and only eight years from retirement, he’d walked away from his military career without a backward glance. He clenched his jaw, purposely pushing those thoughts aside. One year later, Victoria had wanted him on her team. At the interview, she’d said that he had come highly recommended by some friend of hers who had military connections. Lucas Camp—whoever he was. Though Ethan had never met him, he knew from Victoria’s description that Camp was one of those top-secret spooks that weren’t supposed to exist. There probably weren’t more than a handful of people alive who knew who Lucas Camp was and what he did. Obviously, Victoria was one of the chosen few. Ethan only knew the rumors.

Twenty-fours hours after the first meeting between Ethan and Victoria, he had accepted her offer. The salary was outstanding, but that’s not what had sold him on the Colby Agency. Case in point, this morning’s telephone call. Not even a million dollars could buy Ethan Delaney if he didn’t want to be bought.

Honesty and loyalty were the two qualities that mattered most to him. Victoria didn’t play games and she never, ever allowed herself or her people to be manipulated. Victoria Colby was the genuine article. Straight as an arrow and completely loyal.

She thoroughly investigated every client who walked through those doors. Ethan didn’t have to worry about being used or set up. He intended personally to insure that that never happened again. Those haunting memories from the past tried to surface once more. He banished them instantly.

It was over. He couldn’t change the past. But he could damn well prevent history from repeating itself.

Ethan paused in Victoria’s doorway. She was alone. He’d fully expected to find Ian there as well. “Morning, Victoria.”

“Good morning, Ethan. Please come in and have a seat.” She gestured to one of the two wingback chairs that flanked her desk. “I have a possible new client I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Great.” Ethan settled into one of the chairs, thankful for a new assignment. He preferred to stay busy and since he’d completed his last case over a week ago, he was getting a little antsy. “I can be ready to go wherever and whenever you need me—today would be terrific.” The sooner the better, he almost added.

Victoria smiled. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Ethan. Your enthusiasm for your work.”

Ethan nodded, acknowledging the compliment. He’d come really close to going in the other direction just before Victoria found him. Three years ago, his last military mission had almost cost him his ability to care, as well as his life. But the Colby Agency had given both back to him.

He was whole again.

For the most part, anyway.

Victoria relaxed into her leather chair and studied him for a moment. It was her way. He’d gotten used to the reflective moments she indulged in. He simply sat back and enjoyed the view. She was a very attractive woman, even at fifty. Her hair was still raven, with just a few threads of gray and she had the darkest eyes. The kind that could see right through to the heart of things. Honest eyes. That lovely face, however, was not without its share of hard-earned lines. Lines that spoke of experience and loss.

Though Ethan didn’t know the whole story, he’d heard the talk. Victoria’s husband had been murdered. That devastating event had come only five years after the loss of her seven-year-old son. She never talked about that either. Only two people knew the whole story—Mildred, her personal secretary, assistant really, and Trevor Sloan, a former Colby investigator. But everyone had heard the talk.

Victoria Colby had suffered more than her fair share of pain. But it seemed only to make her stronger…more determined to make the world right in any way she could.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Ballard Pharmaceuticals, better known as BalPhar, down in Aurora.”

Ethan recognized the name. “They’re one of our long-term clients.” The company was well known for its headline-making research, he recalled. When it came to pioneering new drugs, BalPhar was a leader in the industry.

“The Colby Agency has done business with Austin Ballard for more than ten years,” Victoria went on. “We’ve done the background clearance on all his employees and the occasional investigation into companies with whom they were considering doing business. I have a great deal of respect for Austin. That’s the main reason I’m considering taking this case in spite of the suspicious circumstances.”

“I thought Simon took care of BalPhar’s work,” Ethan countered. Simon Ruhl was former FBI. No one was better at digging up dirt on people and companies than Simon. Ethan definitely didn’t want to horn in on his territory.

“That’s true, but he’s on an assignment that he can’t break away from at the moment. I believe that time is of the essence where this case is concerned.”

Ethan frowned. That sounded a little ominous. “What’s the deal?”

“Austin has a twenty-two-year-old daughter, Jennifer. She’s something of a genius. Graduated high school by thirteen, had her doctorate by the time she was eighteen. She’s worked side by side with her father since she was a child. Every moment she wasn’t in school, she was in a lab.”

Ethan immediately pictured big, thick eyeglasses and hair pulled into a bun. Oh yeah, and the proverbial white lab coat. “She sounds like an interesting lady.” To a microscope, he added to himself.

A tiny smile disrupted Victoria’s usually all-business expression. “I’m sure you’ll find her most interesting, especially under the circumstances.”

He shrugged. “So what’s her problem?”

“She thinks someone is trying to kill her.”

The blunt statement jerked Ethan to a higher level of attention. “Someone?”

“She believes the threat to her life is coming from inside her father’s company.”

A frown nagged at Ethan. “What does her father say about it?”

“He’s gravely ill,” she explained. “His medical problem started more than a year ago. But about six months ago he became bedridden. My understanding of his current condition is that he drifts in and out of a catatonic state. He may not even be aware of his daughter’s claims.”

“Where’s Miss Ballard now?”

“In hiding. She gave me a location where she can be found. She’d like to meet with someone as soon as possible.”

The skepticism in Victoria’s voice was impossible to miss. “You don’t trust her?” Ethan asked.

Victoria sighed. “I don’t know her. My contact prior to this has been strictly with her father. We have a couple of news clippings of her with her father in the file, none of which are very good pictures. A little too fuzzy. But there is one photograph that was taken five years ago. Austin has kept her pretty much shielded from the press. She is his only child and he’s been more than a little overprotective. Which, in that cutthroat business, makes a great deal of sense.”

“Something doesn’t sit right with you,” Ethan suggested. He could sense her hesitation.

Victoria considered his statement for a moment. “This agency has investigated every single employee at BalPhar. They’re all clean. Of course that doesn’t mean that one hasn’t gone bad.” She paused and chose her words carefully when she spoke once more. “I think my hesitation has more to do with the daughter’s past and her reluctance to share details than with anything else.”

Ethan lifted an eyebrow. “Now you’ve really got my interest.”

“As I said before,” Victoria went on. “She’s brilliant. But with that level of brilliance come other problems. Social, sometimes emotional. She’s led a very sheltered life. I remember there was a problem in her final semester of undergraduate school. A breakdown of some sort. It didn’t last long and probably had more to do with her young age than anything else. According to Austin she was back on her feet and ready to dive into graduate courses in no time. But still, with the continued decline in his health, this new development gives me pause.”

Ethan could see what she meant. If the lady had any history of emotional instability, then the weight of her father’s illness might be more than she could bear. “Is she running the company in his absence?”

Victoria sighed. “Yes. She’s senior vice president. A breakdown on her part could be disastrous for BalPhar during this critical time. The shareholders and benefactors Austin has worked a lifetime to develop will be monitoring every move she makes very closely. Do you see my concern?”

“I definitely do. That’s a lot of responsibility for someone so young, genius or not.”

“Exactly.” Victoria shook her head. “And, if I had my guess, emotionally and socially she’s far younger than twenty-two. I’m relatively certain she hasn’t led a typical lifestyle in any sense of the word.”

Something Victoria had said nagged at Ethan. “You said senior vice president, is there more than one?”

“Yes,” Victoria hastened to explain. “I ran a brief check on the company’s current status this morning. Dr. David Crane is the second vice president. As Austin’s daughter, Jennifer outranks him, of course.”

David Crane. Ethan knew a moment of disbelief. The kind a guy felt when he thought he’d seen a ghost. Crane was a ghost, all right. One straight from Ethan’s past.

“What does Crane say about all this?” he asked hesitantly. Flashes of memory slashed through his brain. Gunfire erupting, running, death hot on their heels. He blinked the images away.

Victoria eyed him curiously, noting his brief distraction. She never missed a thing. “I haven’t spoken with Dr. Crane. I promised Jennifer that I would not contact anyone at the company or the local authorities until we’d looked into her accusations. Which, of course, we can’t actually do until she gives us more details and Jennifer won’t do that until she’s met with you face-to-face.” Victoria inclined her head and studied Ethan for another moment. “Do you know Dr. Crane?”

Ethan considered saying no, but he wouldn’t lie to his boss. Avoiding the truth was something he only did when absolutely necessary. “I knew him. In another lifetime.”

“Should we be suspicious of him?”

Ethan shook his head. “I don’t think so. He saved my life in Iraq. He seemed a pretty straight arrow.”

“I see. He was in the military at the same time as you?”

“No,” Ethan said, still distracted by this unexpected development. “He was a scientist being held hostage. I went in to retrieve him. On the way out, he watched my back, kept me from taking a bullet.”

“Perhaps I should ask someone else to look into this case then,” she offered. “I don’t want anything getting in the way of objectivity. If there’s any chance Jennifer is right in her claims, Crane may come under suspicion.”

Ethan put up his hands, stop-sign fashion. “Don’t sweat it. Crane and I haven’t seen each other in nearly a decade. Besides, we don’t even know that Miss Ballard thinks he’s involved. But, even if he is, ancient history won’t color my judgment, I can assure you.”

Several tense seconds ticked by while Victoria weighed his words. Caution was her first line of defense. “All right,” she said, finally relenting. “But if your past with Crane gets in the way, I expect you to bow out gracefully.”

“That’s reasonable,” he allowed. “What do you want me to do?” The girl sounded like she needed help, and things could definitely get sticky whether Crane was involved or not. Ethan would have to evaluate the situation closely before coming to any kind of conclusions. The reputation of a pharmaceuticals company was fragile. One wrong move and years of research, not to mention millions of dollars, could end up down the drain. New, badly needed drugs could be delayed in reaching those who needed them now.

“She’s given me the name of a motel in Kankakee, a small town about fifty miles south of Chicago. I want you to talk to her. Determine if there’s any possibility that her claims are valid.”

“And if they aren’t?” Ethan had to know what was expected of him if the girl had gone around the bend.

“Check out her story and if it’s clear to you that she’s unstable, then somehow we’ll have Dr. Melbourne take a look at her before we do anything else. I don’t want to risk bad press unnecessarily. With Austin’s illness already a matter of public knowledge, this sort of thing could ruin all that he’s worked for.”

“What if she doesn’t want to see Melbourne?” Ethan remembered the doc well from his prehiring interviews. The guy was a genius himself. If there was anything even slightly off-kilter, he’d find it. Melbourne was good—the best.

“Well, then we’ll just have to find a way to convince her.” Victoria looked him straight in the eye. “Discounting what you’ve just told me about your past with Crane, I chose you for this mission for two reasons, Ethan.”

He held that all-knowing gaze and waited for her to continue.

“If there is any truth to her accusations, I want her protected at all costs. I won’t take any chances with Austin’s daughter. Secondly, your powers of persuasion where the ladies are concerned have not gone unnoticed. I’m certain you can convince Miss Ballard to see things your way.”

Ethan grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will.” Victoria leaned forward and handed him a folded piece of paper. “That’s the location. I’m to call her at the number she left and let her know whom to expect. She would like to meet with you at one o’clock this afternoon. Does that give you time to prepare?”

“I can handle it.” It was nine a.m. He’d have plenty of time to go by his apartment and pick up a few things just in case this assignment took more than twenty-four hours. He tucked the note into his pocket. “I’ll call you the moment I have anything to report.”

“Very good.”

Ethan headed to the door, mentally making a list of what he would need.

“Just one more thing,” Victoria called behind him.

He paused at the door and looked back. “Yeah?”

“Since I don’t know Jennifer personally, there’s always the chance that this young woman is an impostor attempting to cause trouble for BalPhar. Maybe a disgruntled ex-employee seeking revenge. She could be a threat to security.”

“That’s possible,” Ethan agreed.

“Whatever you discover, do not let this woman out of your sight. If she’s Jennifer Ballard, I want her protected. If she’s not, I want to ensure she represents no threat to the real Jennifer. We’ll need to inform BalPhar security as soon as there are any firm facts.”

“I won’t let anything happen to her either way.”

Ethan left Victoria’s office with uneasiness twisting in his gut. Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right. Victoria felt it, too, that was the reason for the extra precautions. A dread, at once familiar and disconcerting, filtered through him. He’d been in this kind of situation where there were far too many variables once before. That situation had ended badly and almost cost him his life.

He wouldn’t let his guard down this time. No matter how sweet or innocent Jennifer Ballard appeared, she was not to be trusted until he was absolutely certain it was safe to do so.

She would have to prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was telling the truth.

BY TWELVE-THIRTY Ethan parked in front of the office at the Blue Moon Motel on the outskirts of Kankakee. It was a quaint joint to say the least. It reminded him of the kind of place hookers took their johns. If the esteemed Dr. Ballard had been looking for a low profile, she’d found it in a big way.

Ethan emerged cautiously from his vehicle. As he repositioned the gun at the small of his back, he surveyed the empty parking area as well as the row of vacant-looking, rundown rooms on either side of the office. The sign proclaiming Vacancies hung at an odd angle near the door. Faded blue paint was cracked and peeling from the antiquated wood siding. It was a real dump.

Still scanning warily, Ethan walked up the steps and across the small porch that led to the office. The July humidity was sweltering. Inside, the office proved no cooler. A small oscillating fan kept the fetid air moving, but did nothing to cool the temperature.

A short, bald man with a cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth dragged his attention from the soap opera he was watching on the small television set. “Can I help you?” he asked with absolute disinterest. He didn’t even bother to rise from his dilapidated chair.

Ethan narrowed his gaze and set his lips in a grim line, a practiced move that boasted of the impatience radiating behind the expression and should serve to motivate the listless clerk. “I certainly hope so.”

The guy appeared startled then. He shot to his feet. It was almost as if he’d looked at Ethan for the first time and noted what could only be called trouble. Ethan knew he presented a somewhat dangerous persona, and that was fine by him, especially at times like this. It allowed for a certain ease in getting what he wanted. He could well imagine what the guy behind the scarred counter thought at the moment. Ethan’s shoulder-length hair was tied back in a queue. A small silver hoop embellished one ear. But it was his size more than anything else that served as the most persuasive. He was six-four and weighed a muscular 220 pounds. Not too many people willingly messed with him. And that’s the way he liked it.

If the now-flustered clerk didn’t stop gaping Ethan was pretty sure the lit cancer stick was going to fall right out of his mouth.

“I need a room. My name is Ethan Delaney. I hope I don’t need a reservation.” He said the last a bit facetiously.

Clenching his lips together to grip the cigarette, the guy shook his head, then abruptly changed it to a nod. “You…you already have a room,” he stammered. He grabbed a key. “One fourteen.” He angled his head to his left. “All the way at the end.”

Ethan wasn’t surprised. Dr. Jennifer Ballard, if that was who she really was, was supposed to be waiting for him. She certainly wouldn’t risk using her real name if she was in hiding. He supposed that was the reason she’d used his.

“Thank you,” he said as he reached for the key.

The man behind the counter swallowed hard as he dropped the key into Ethan’s hand. “Just…just let me know if you need anything else.”

“Just one thing,” Ethan said pointedly.

The guy jumped. “Yeah?”

Ethan dropped a couple of bills on the counter. “I haven’t been here, got it?”

The clerk’s head bobbed up and down as he pocketed the money. “Never saw you.”

Ethan smiled, something several degrees shy of pleasant. “Good.”

As the clerk said, room 114 was all the way at the end. The six rooms before it appeared empty, just as Ethan had suspected when he arrived. He had no doubt that the seven rooms on the other side of the office were just as empty. Glancing from right to left once more, he reached for his gun and simultaneously shoved the key into the lock. He pushed open the door.

To his surprise it was dark inside, but blessedly cool. The drapes were pulled tight. He felt for the light switch but a distinctly feminine voice stopped him.

“Close the door first.”

Moving into defensive mode, Ethan closed the door behind him and tightened his fingers on the weapon.

“Now you can turn on the light.”

He flipped the switch, blinked once to focus, his gun leveled in the direction of the sound of her voice.

A woman who looked no older than seventeen or eighteen, clad in tattered hip-hugger jeans and a cut-off T-shirt stood on the opposite side of the room. She wasn’t very tall, five-two maybe, and waif-thin. Long blond hair, pale blue eyes, elfin features. Ethan couldn’t say for sure if she was Dr. Jennifer Ballard or not, but she definitely resembled the girl in the five-year-old photograph he’d seen. With one major exception—this woman was holding on tight with both hands to a small-caliber handgun, the barrel pointed at his chest.

“I need to see some identification, Mr. Delaney.” She moistened her lips and exhaled a shaky breath. “But first, I’ll need you to put your gun down.”

Chapter Two

Please, God, Jenn Ballard prayed, don’t let him realize this gun isn’t loaded.

“I said, put your gun down,” she repeated to the large, dangerous-looking man standing on the other side of a bed that would prove less than adequate as a protective barrier.

“I don’t think so,” he said quietly. “Why don’t you put yours away and then I’ll do the same.”

She trembled at the sound of his voice. Smooth but lethal. What should she do? She’d expected him to obey her command. They always did in the movies…the ones she watched anyway.

She had no other choice. Gritting her teeth for courage, she drew the hammer back, cocking the weapon just as she’d seen guys like Clint Eastwood do. The resounding click echoed loudly in the still room. “Put it down now,” she demanded with as much gravity as she could marshal. She sure hoped all those late-night movies she used to watch weren’t wrong.

The man, whom she prayed was really Ethan Delaney, stared at her for two endless seconds before he relented. She let go the breath she’d been holding when he placed his weapon on the bedspread. Thank God.

“Now, the ID,” she reminded.

“Just stay cool, lady.” He opened the left lapel of his lightweight leather jacket wide, showing her he had nothing to hide, and reached with his thumb and fore-finger into an interior pocket. His evaluating stare never left her as he produced a small black leather credentials case. He tossed it onto the bed still eyeing her speculatively. She knew how she looked, but she couldn’t help that. The ragged jeans and the midriff top were the best she could do under the circumstances. The fact that the getup was reasonably clean had been her only concern when she’d bartered for it. With her hair down instead of in its usual neat bun and sporting the funky clothes she doubted anyone would recognize her. Even her beloved fiancé.

Which was the whole point.

Never taking her eyes off the man looming a mere mattress width away, she reached for the case he’d tossed onto the bed. She flipped it open and glanced at the Colby Agency picture ID. Ethan Delaney. Thirty-four, six-four, 220 pounds. Brown hair and eyes. She looked back and forth between the ID and the man himself. The hair was really long, tied back in a ponytail, and the eyes an uncommonly dark coppery brown. Her throat went a little dry. A guy this size could definitely do some damage. Maybe she shouldn’t have begun their meeting in such an unfriendly, distrustful manner.

“Satisfied?” he asked pointedly.

Oh, yes. She’d definitely made a mistake. But what choice had she had?

None.

She nodded, then lowered her weapon. “Sorry about that, but you can’t imagine how frightened I’ve been.” Suddenly feeling too weary, she dropped both her gun and the ID case onto the bed. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He reached for his gun, tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, and snagged hers up next along with his ID. Once the ID was back in his pocket he checked her weapon.

The glare that followed was penetrating, fierce. “Did you know this weapon isn’t loaded?”

She collapsed onto the edge of the bed. She was too exhausted and too emotionally wiped out to explain fully. “Yes,” she admitted. “I didn’t have anything left to trade for bullets.”

That piercing gaze intensified. “Trade? What the hell are you talking about?”

She shrugged tiredly. “I had to make a run for it with no money or plastic. I met a guy in an alley near the bus station who traded me the gun for my Rolex. I’d already traded my engagement ring for a bus ticket out of Chicago and my shoes for these clothes and sneakers. I didn’t have anything left.”

“You are kidding, right?”

Indignant, she shook her head. “I didn’t have any choice.” What was the big deal? Though she couldn’t accurately assess the value of the engagement ring, it could have been as fake as her fiancé. The remainder of the items had been top of the line. The girl who got her shoes certainly got the better bargain. They were Guccis after all. The wedding dress a Vera Wang, but it had been ruined, and she’d had to cram it into a trash bin. The horrible memories she’d kept at bay for nearly 72 hours now spilled one over the other into her weary mind.

Her stomach roiled. There had been so much blood.

Uncle Russ was dead.

She blinked back the tears that threatened. She had to be strong, had to get back to her father. His already fragile life might be in danger, too. No matter what else happened, she had to have help getting her life back. She had to make sure he didn’t hurt her father. Her father’s safety was of primary importance. With his health so poor, almost anything could finish him off. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him yet, and certainly not like this.

The man, Ethan Delaney, looked at her with something new in his eyes…pity, maybe? Anger kindled in her belly and was joined by indignation. She didn’t need his pity; she needed his investigative expertise.

“When did you eat last?” he asked quietly, concerned.

She thought about that one for a moment, then remembered. The last three days were like one big blur of runaway emotions in her memory, some images more vivid than others. She immediately pushed those away. “The man at the front desk gave me a bag of peanuts and a soft drink when I checked in this morning,” she admitted. “Since I didn’t have any money I was profoundly grateful.”

“Really?” Ethan said, clearly skeptical. He lifted an eyebrow in punctuation. “How’d you pay when you checked in if you didn’t have any money or plastic?”

He probably wasn’t going to like this part. “I told him the man I was expecting would pay. Apparently that’s customary at this establishment.”

Ethan puffed out an impatient breath, then massaged his chin trying to decide what to do with her. Finally, as if he’d fought his own better judgment and lost, he shook his head. “Let’s go get you something to eat, then we’ll talk.”

She swung her head side to side in adamant disagreement of his suggestion. “I don’t feel leaving the room would be a wise move until we come to an agreement. Can’t you call for something to be delivered?”

His facial features set in grim lines, he stalked over to the table next to the bed and jerked the single drawer open. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she’d already alienated her only hope and they’d barely met. She had to work seriously on her people skills. But first, before anything else, she had to convince him to believe her. Success depended solely on that one step.

After checking the yellow pages, he asked, “Pizza okay?”

Her stomach clenched in anticipation. “Yes.” It wasn’t the cuisine she usually preferred, but it would certainly do. She was starved.

After he’d placed the order, he sat down in the only chair in the room, his expression unreadable. “The pizza’ll be here in twenty minutes.” He leveled that dark, analyzing gaze on her once more, making her tremble in spite of her best efforts not to. “I know who your father is and most everything I need to know about the company, BalPhar. But I need you to start at the beginning and tell me why you think someone is trying to kill you.”

His apathy infuriated her. “I don’t think,” she said hotly, “I know.” She glared at him, though she was confident her killer stare was not nearly as effective as his.

He lifted one shoulder and let it fall, the gesture as nonchalant as his tone and all the more infuriating. “Then tell me how you know.”

She drew in a deep, bolstering breath and started at the beginning as he’d requested, but opted for the abbreviated version. “Five years ago my father began a new research project with another scientist, Dr. Kessler. As the research progressed, Dr. Kessler made extraordinary advances. Then two years ago another scientist came on board with the project. With his help, the results rocketed to a whole new level.”

She was so tired. None of what she was about to say could be proven. How could she expect an outsider to accept it? How could it even be happening? Her father had always been so careful. How would she ever make this man believe the unbelievable tale she was about to relay? It was real and she had to have his help. Her father trusted Victoria Colby. If Victoria had sent this guy, Jenn had to trust him. But she couldn’t tell him everything—not yet. If she told him too much too fast, he would never believe her. Some things a person had to see with their own eyes.

She rubbed at her temples and stretched her neck in a bid for more time, then went on, “About a year ago there was a falling out between the two lead scientists and Dr. Kessler left. Now, the project named after him is ready to move to the next level—testing on human subjects.”

“Kessler is out of the picture completely?” Delaney wanted to know.

She nodded. “He won’t have anything to do with BalPhar. He even refuses his share of the stocks.”

That revelation made headway with her so-far unimpressable guest. He looked somewhat more interested.

He asked no questions, so she continued. “The drug created is a chemotherapy agent that literally neutralizes cancer cells. It’s called Cellneu.”

She noted another almost imperceptible change in those dark eyes. Even she felt amazed at how the drug worked. “Astonishing, isn’t it?”

“And very valuable,” he suggested.

“Very.” That one drug would make BalPhar a fortune a dozen times over and has the potential of saving countless lives. “There’s only one problem,” she added, but hesitated before going on. She had absolutely no proof of what she was about to say.

He studied her for a moment, considering what she’d told him so far. “Is that why you think someone is trying to kill you? To steal your new drug?”

She shook her head. “Someone is trying to kill me,” she explained, “because I know something he doesn’t want me to.”

Delaney gestured with his hand for her to continue. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Jenn moistened her lips. She knew how this was going to sound. She could only hope that he would believe her. “There’s something wrong with the drug. It may be dangerous to humans in the long run. I think maybe that’s why Kessler got out.”

“Can you prove it?”

She sighed. There was the one sticking point. She stood then, hands on hips for emphasis. She had no evidence, just the word of a dying man. “I can’t prove it, but I know it’s true.”

“And how do you know this?” he asked calmly. So damned calmly she wanted to scream.

“Because my uncle, who worked on the project, whom I trusted implicitly, told me with his dying breath.”

One of those dark eyebrows quirked. “His dying breath?”

“My fiancé killed him. He would have killed me, too, but I got away.”

Delaney leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his widespread knees. “Where exactly did this take place? Were there any witnesses?”

“In the chapel where I was about to be married.” She tried to blink away the images again, but couldn’t stop them. Her blood-stained gown. Russ lying lifeless on the floor. The sinister look in David’s eyes. Jenn pressed her fingertips to her closed lids and tried to banish the ugly pictures her mind conjured. Russ was dead. Was her father dead already, too? “There weren’t any witnesses. We wanted to keep things quiet. The others present worked for my fiancé. Even the minister.” She remembered vividly his doing nothing to help her as the man dragged her away. The minister simply stared at her, a passive expression on his face.

Delaney stood and started in her direction. Startled, Jenn tensed. In a protective move, she wrapped her arms around her middle. Be strong.

He towered over her. Intimidating, commanding. A little hitch disrupted her breathing as her senses absorbed his nearness. His scent. The heat he radiated. The restrained power behind all that muscle. She fought the fear. He was supposed to be on her side. No fear.

“So you were at this chapel, garbed in full wedding attire,” he clarified as emotionlessly as if he were inquiring about the time of day, “ready to walk down the aisle and your fiancé tried to kill you. But you got away. Is that what you’re saying?”

He didn’t believe her. Fury swept through Jenn, evaporating the last of her fear. She had no reason to lie. Couldn’t he understand that? “Basically, yes,” she returned tightly. “Except that he ordered one of his men to kill me. He dragged me from the chapel, then drove deep into the woods.” She shivered, knowing for the first time in her life how Snow White had felt. “He made me watch while he dug a shallow grave. When he decided to have himself a little fun before he killed me, I managed to get a grip on the shovel. I hit him hard, then ran as fast as I could.” She shuddered. “I didn’t look back.”

“All right.” Delaney still looked ambivalent. “Why don’t you give me your fiancé’s name and I’ll call a detective friend of mine in the city and have him pick the guy up. It shouldn’t take us long to sort this out.”

Fear rocketed through her. “We can’t call the police!”

Delaney inclined his head, studying her from another angle. “Why not? You said he murdered your uncle and that he attempted to have you killed.”

She chewed her lower lip. She couldn’t let him call the police. “He…he has my father. If I call the police and they investigate, but don’t lock him up, I know he’ll kill my father.” Panic tightened her chest. Though her father was gravely ill, on the verge of death really, she didn’t want him suffering. “Please.” She advanced on Ethan Delaney and grabbed him by his jacket. “Please don’t risk making things worse for my father. You have to help me.”

Those dark eyes softened just a fraction. “Tell me the name of this fiancé that you’re so afraid of and I’ll see what I can do.”

She nodded and swiped at the tears welling. “His name is David Crane. Dr. David Crane.”

TWO AND ONE HALF hours later and Ethan was sitting in the reception area outside Dr. David Crane’s plush tenth-story office at Ballard Pharmaceuticals.

It had taken Ethan a full half hour to convince his client to go along with his plan. She’d done everything short of crying to dissuade him, and she’d been damn close to doing that. Once he’d explained exactly what he intended to do, she’d reluctantly gone along with him. He’d asked her a few more questions about the Kessler Project as she wolfed down half the pizza he’d ordered. Though he was still skeptical of just who she was, he recognized that she was extremely intelligent and appeared to know almost everything about the company.

Her resourcefulness surprised him. He’d expected a spoiled rich kid who couldn’t fend for herself outside a closely structured environment. If all she said was true, she’d outwitted a would-be killer, run for her life, found a way to disguise herself and gotten the hell out of Dodge all on her own.

Impressive, he had to admit.

But, damn, she looked so young. Especially dressed as she was. He gritted his teeth and forced away the things he shouldn’t think about…like that smart and too sexy mouth of hers. Her lips had a daring little pucker to them…one that begged to be kissed, even if it was clearly unintentional. She was small, but emanated an air of strength. She’d sure surprised the hell out of him. In more ways than one.

On a more professional note, if she wasn’t Jennifer Ballard, she was certainly someone high up at BalPhar or a well-trained spy for one of their competitors. In his estimation, she knew far too much not to be from the inside. And if she wasn’t Jennifer, where was the real Jennifer Ballard?

Necessity had never posed the occasion for him to visit Ballard Pharmaceuticals before. He was impressed with the place. The building sat in the middle of a large compound, fifteen or twenty acres at least, a good twenty miles from any real civilization to speak of. Security was top-notch. Ten floors and a basement defined the structure. The architecture presented a very futuristic feel with sleek lines and angles, but with an underlying cold, stainless-steel edge.

If Jennifer Ballard had grown up in this cool, seemingly untouchable environment he wondered how she had developed any emotions at all. The austere feel of the place didn’t sit well with him. But he was still collecting data, physically and mentally. He wouldn’t make any judgments just yet.

“Mr. Delaney,” the well-polished, efficient-looking secretary said, her voice a perfectly modulated pitch, “Dr. Crane will see you now.”

Ethan wondered if she’d taken voice lessons to achieve that flawless inflection. “Thank you.” He stood and nodded once in her direction, then turned toward the door a few feet away that opened into the junior VP’s office. He wondered then if Crane would remember him. He almost laughed. Ethan supposed he would. It was difficult to forget the man who’d saved one’s life. He should know, Crane had saved his as well. The three days and nights they’d spent together making their way across that desert were permanently imprinted upon his brain. No way he could ever forget. Death had stalked them both in more than one form. Ultimately, they’d saved each other.

Crane was standing when Ethan entered his office. “Ethan, what an honor to have you here. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He clasped Ethan’s hand and shook it heartily the moment Ethan had extended it. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” Ethan smiled. Crane had done well for himself. He still looked fit and had aged well. Lots of men in his line of work would have grown soft and maybe even gained a spare tire. But not Crane. He looked in excellent physical condition, seemed very much in charge. “It’s good to see you, too, Dr. Crane,” Ethan said after his quick visual assessment.

Crane waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. Call me David. After what we’ve been through together, formalities are a slap in the face. Have a seat. Please.”

Ethan sat down in one of the lavish leather chairs facing Crane’s desk. “Looks like you’ve moved up in the world,” he commented as he glanced around the luxurious office. A wall of windows presented a picturesque view near the long conference table on the other side of the room. From this level, everything for miles around sprawled across the landscape in a sea of lush green forests interrupted only by a narrow, curving road that led back to the city. The office furnishings were ornate, the decorating classic. It was nothing like the rest of what Ethan had seen in the building.

“From a desert in Iraq,” Crane nodded “I’ve definitely moved up.” He leaned back in his chair. “I have to say, I like it a lot better here.”

Ethan laughed. “I’ll bet you do.” An expensive-looking abstract oil painting hung on the wall behind Crane’s desk. The colors were so vivid it almost looked three-dimensional. The artwork nagged at Ethan, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on precisely what it was that bothered him.

“May I get you something to drink?” Crane offered, gesturing to the tray on the massive mahogany sideboard near the conference table.

Ethan dragged his attention back to the man and said, “No. I’m good.”

Crane propped his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his fingers. “My secretary tells me you’re with the Colby Agency now. BalPhar has done business with Victoria Colby for years. Sounds as if you haven’t done so badly yourself.”

“It’s not that different from what I used to do,” Ethan allowed, and that was true to an extent.

Crane nodded. “I can imagine.” He frowned then. “You know, I have a meeting in a few minutes that I, unfortunately, can’t reschedule, I think we should have dinner this evening and talk about old times,” he suggested, his frown reverting to a smile. “You can tell me what you’ve been up to since you saved my life all those years ago.”

Ethan searched Crane’s expression and posture for any sign of deception, but found none. “I wouldn’t have been able to get you out of that desert if you hadn’t saved my life first.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Crane admitted with a nonchalant lift of one shoulder. “But I would never have gotten out of there, period, without you. I was a dead man.” He pressed Ethan with a fiercely sincere gaze. “You saved my life. I owe you for that.” He smiled again, pushing aside the intensity he’d just displayed. “So tell me what I can do for you. Anything. Name it.”

Crane looked straight at Ethan, his gaze open, honest. The man Ethan had known all those years ago would not have been able to conceal lies so well. Surely he had not become a master of deception in the intervening time. Jennifer Ballard had to be wrong. Or maybe this was some sort of setup. There was no way to tell yet who was setting up whom.

“I’m investigating a small research facility for one of your competitors,” Ethan explained, laying out the cover he’d assured his client would prevent any questions as to why he was at BalPhar. “Alexon wants to buy out Camden, but they’re not certain it’s a wise investment. I’m sure you’re familiar with Camden.” He paused for effect. “Do you know anything that might make a difference as to whether Alexon proceeds? I know I’m taking a risk letting you in on what Alexon has planned, but I felt I could trust you.”

Crane pressed his chin to his steepled fingers and considered the question as well as Ethan’s final profound statement. “We’ve worked with Camden from time to time and never had any problem. Their reputation is solid, but financially they’re on the rocks.” A frown furrowed Crane’s brow. “However, financial woes aside, I didn’t know they were for sale. I am surprised at that. Howard Camden always swore he’d never answer to anyone else.”

Ethan smiled. “Camden doesn’t know it just yet.”

“Ah-ha.” Crane nodded knowingly. “A hostile take-over. Interesting.”

“Alexon wants the heads-up on a new cancer drug Camden’s got in the works.” Ethan shrugged, feigning disinterest. “You’d know more about that kind of thing than me. It’s some sort of cell-neutralizing agent related to cancer treatment. Big money-maker, I’m told, for the company that comes out with it first.”

Crane stilled, but showed no other outward indication of uneasiness or suspicion. “Really? I hadn’t heard about that either. Do you know if they’re ready to go public?”

There was the ever-so-slightest hint of wariness in Crane’s last question. Ethan had struck a nerve. Ethan flared his hands in feigned innocence. “Nah, that’s all I was told.” He narrowed his gaze on Crane. “So, you think Camden’s a good investment?”

There was something different in Crane’s eyes now. Ethan considered vaguely that maybe Crane was calculating how he could buy Camden first. Too bad it wasn’t really for sale. And Camden definitely didn’t have the cell-neutralizing drug in the works. The head of security at Alexon, an old friend of Victoria’s, had suggested this fishing expedition. One quick phone call was all it had taken. Next to BalPhar, Alexon was the biggest pharmaceuticals corporation in the country. Ethan had been right to mention the new drug, the one from the Kessler Project. He definitely had captured Crane’s attention—or suspicion—now.

“If Camden is on the verge of some sort of major breakthrough, it would definitely be a wise investment,” Crane advised. “However, you have to consider that many times rumors are started to make a business look attractive when it really isn’t,” he said, his tone direct. “If Camden actually were on the precipice of something that big, I doubt there would be any rumors. There would be tight control. Very tight control,” he emphasized. “You might want to reevaluate your sources.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Ethan lied. “I suppose if Camden is having financial woes, this sort of rumor could definitely be to their benefit.”

“Absolutely.”

Ethan stood. Crane did the same. Oddly he offered no objection to Ethan’s leaving, nor did he bring up dinner again.

“Thanks for your input.” Ethan extended his hand once more. “Maybe I can do the same for you sometime.”

Crane shook his hand. “The Colby Agency already takes very good care of us, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ethan hesitated before he turned to leave. “By the way, Victoria asked me to inquire about Mr. Ballard’s health.”

Crane’s expression grew somber. “Not well, I’m afraid. He’s rarely lucid these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ethan said. “And his daughter, Jennifer, how is she, under the circumstances?”

“She’s holding up as well as can be expected,” Crane responded without hesitation.

“Perhaps I should stop in, offer the agency’s support.”

“She’s in Boston on business,” Crane said quickly, too quickly. “I’ll tell her that Mrs. Colby asked.”

Ethan nodded. “You do that.”

Ethan left the office. He took his time strolling to the elevator. Though he still wasn’t sure Crane was hiding anything earth-shaking and certainly didn’t believe him to be the monster Jennifer Ballard had drawn, Ethan had the distinct impression that he was being watched as he made his exit.

DAVID CRANE stood silently at his desk for several moments after Delaney left. David watched him leave the building on the private monitor that was usually disguised as a rather expensive oil painting. He had a very bad feeling about his old friend’s visit. David clenched his jaw to hold back the fury whipping through him.

Someone knew. But no one—absolutely no one—was supposed to know. Only one of two people could have set this afternoon’s events into motion. Kessler possibly, but David doubted it, though he would certainly have one of his men look into that prospect. Kessler hadn’t opened his mouth in all this time, why would he do so now? He knew the consequences if he did. Kessler enjoyed his family…enjoyed life. He knew enough about this business to know that running his mouth off would get him killed. David would have killed him months ago, but that would only have aroused suspicions.

Kessler knew better than to talk. And if it wasn’t Kessler, then it could only be one other person.

But she was supposed to be dead.

David pressed the intercom button for his chief of security. “I want Ethan Delaney followed. I want to know where he goes and with whom he speaks.”

“Yes, sir, Dr. Crane.”

David sank back into his chair, a muscle flexing rhythmically in his tense jaw. Delaney couldn’t know anything…not really.

Because she was dead.

He was sure of it.

He’d ordered the contract personally.

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