As dismissals went, it was a good one. Turning on her heel, she headed directly to the elevator. How could Tom think she’d promised him anything? Guilt had her flushing. She had discussed the divorce with him.
Her mind swirled as she stepped into the crowded elevator. Great. It would take forever to get back to her floor, and she had work to do. After several slow stops, most people had disembarked. She eyed her watch. Only she and one person remained, and he’d get off first.
The door opened on the ninth floor. A broad hand between her shoulder blades shoved her out of the elevator. “Hey,” she protested, flipping around.
The man crowded her away from the lift. The doors slid shut.
Silence.
Josie turned around. The entire ninth floor of the high-rise building was being renovated for a legal firm to take over at the end of the year. In fact, Tom had bid on the job. Sawdust littered the floor, while tools remained scattered about.
She pivoted and took a step back, her gaze flashing to the man who’d shoved her. Just under six feet, broad across the shoulders, he had a nose that sported several old breaks. “Um…”
“Mrs. Dean, I suggest you cooperate with me.” Raspy and tough, his voice promised pain.
Panic heated the air in her lungs. The guy knew her name. Memories of Shane teaching her self-defense moves ran through her brain in rapid succession. She’d go for the balls again. “What do you want?”
The man’s gaze slid down to her toes and back up.
Fear caught in her throat.
He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Unfortunately, not what you think. This time, anyway.” His hand snaked out and manacled around her arm before he dragged her toward a room partially framed in. “Please have a seat.” While the words remained polite, the shove he gave her onto the folding chair held barely controlled violence.
She hit the metal hard, struggling to stay in place. “Wha-what do you want?” She straightened her pin-striped skirt over her knees, searching for a plan.
He crouched in front of her, hands going to her knees. “Here’s the deal, blue eyes. We’re going to wait here until closing time, and then go up and grab a few of your firm’s files.”
Awareness filtered through the buzzing of fear in her brain. “You ransacked my office.”
He tightened his hold on her knees. “Wasn’t me. My boss ransacked the entire floor looking for the files he needed.”
She yanked her legs to the side, dislodging his beefy hands and trying to focus past the fear. “What files did he need?”
The guy’s grin revealed a large gap between his front teeth. “Oh, we’ll find them when we go up later, don’t you worry.”
“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Would Shane be looking for her yet? Though why would he check on the empty ninth floor?
The man stood, reaching for a power saw. “If I were you, I wouldn’t ask too many questions, Ms. Dean. People with too many answers end up dead.”
A death threat. Silence echoed around the floor. It wasn’t quitting time, so either the guy had enough power to send the construction crew home for the day, or he knew their schedule. Was it her files or Daniel’s they wanted? Though, once the guy got the files, would he kill her? Maybe she could keep him talking. “Tell me what files, and maybe I can give you the information now.”
“No.” He slapped the blade against his palm, licking his lips as his gaze wandered over her legs. “Though you can call me George.”
The guy was probably a killer. Her heart beat hard enough to bruise her ribs. Could she get the saw from him? If the tool was plugged in, she could inflict some serious damage. Did she stand a chance? “Is that your name?”
“Sure.” He twisted his wrist to glance at a battered sports watch. “We have about two hours to spend together.” He smiled again. “Then we’ll get my files, and you can go on your merry way.”
He had to be lying. If that was his real name, he had no intention of letting her go. She forced her foster home smile to her face, her breath heating. “Sounds good to me. Is your boss a client of mine?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
If she could keep him talking, maybe she could distract him somehow. Was Dan’s habit of keeping all his files on a flash drive with him the problem here? “Is he client of Daniel Mission’s?”
“No. He just wants your records—nobody else’s. So shut up and wait the time out.”
The boss wanted her files—not Daniel’s. Probably the files she’d taken home that night. Four accounts, four clients. Had Billy been involved in something illegal? If so, what? “Why take the laptops?”
“We pawned them in the next state. After wiping them down.”