Leila’s gaze darted to Davis, then back to the man who had to be her uncle. She didn’t quite look him in the eyes as she replied, “I’m fine. It was a mistake. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry? You know I always worry. With your dad gone...” He sighed, gave Leila a sad smile, then let go of her arms. “I’m sorry,” he said more softly. “We should have talked in private. But I wish you’d called me right away. Eric said—”
“Everything is okay,” Leila said, cutting him off. “Uncle, this is my new assistant, Davis Rogers. Davis, this is Joel Petrov, our COO.”
Joel’s attention shifted to him, and the intensity of the man’s scrutiny was like a father inspecting his teenage daughter’s first date. Fleetingly Davis wondered why Neal Petrov hadn’t convinced the board of directors to make his brother CEO instead of his daughter.
Then Joel’s hand closed around his. “Davis. Nice to meet you. I’m sure you’ll like it here.” Just as quickly, Joel let go, dismissing him as effectively as if he’d left the room.
“I’m glad it was all a mistake,” he told Leila. “But if anything else comes up, let me help you handle it. You’ve got enough to deal with right now.” He squeezed her hand, then headed off into a private office on the edges of the open space and closed the door.
“Let’s finish our tour,” Leila told him, all business as she strode past her uncle’s office and toward the testing area.
Davis hurried after her, his mind spinning. Neal Petrov’s brother was COO of the company and yet, when Neal had stepped back, he’d talked the board into putting his twenty-nine-year-old daughter in charge instead. And even after leaving his CEO role, from what his employees had said, Neal Petrov was still in the office all the time. As founder and biggest shareholder, he still profited. Maybe stepping back protected him from liability if things went sideways. Maybe he hadn’t pushed to have his young daughter in charge because of nepotism, but because he thought she was too inexperienced to realize what was happening under her nose.
He frowned, remembering the sadness in her eyes when Eric had talked about her father. If Davis’s suspicion was true, her father hadn’t really cared about her. Because by using her inexperience and trust against her, he was also putting her in the position to be the first one law enforcement came after if it all unraveled. He was making her his scapegoat.
Davis was a long way from proving any of it, but if he was right, he wished more than ever that Neal Petrov was still here, so he could truly make the man pay.
“Let me show you the area where we do testing,” Leila said, her tone strong and confident, as if showing him their process would prove there was no way for someone to have sabotaged the armor. “We used to have a separate section of the building for gun testing, but that closed last year and we’re in the process of converting it into another R and D area for our armor.” She used her security card to key through a new doorway, holding it open for him.
As he followed, his phone dinged and Davis glanced at it. A message from Hendrick lit up on his screen.
This case is much bigger than we thought. Turns out Petrov Armor’s name has come up in Bureau cases before—a LOT of them over more than a decade. But nothing panned out.
Frowning, Davis texted back a quick question: Military cases? Defects?
The response came back fast and made Davis swear under his breath.
No. Supplying guns to known criminals.
Chapter Four
Kane Bradshaw hated being stuck inside an FBI office, digging through old case files. He especially hated doing it with Dr. Melinda Larsen.
He snuck a glance at her, head bent over her laptop, wearing her default serious expression. She looked more like an academic than an FBI agent, with her small frame and that dark hair she always wore loose around her shoulders. Her Asian heritage had given her skin warm undertones and along with how perfectly unlined her face was despite her job, she looked a decade younger than the early forties he knew her to be. But one glance into those deep brown eyes and he could see every year, every tough case.
She was one of the Bureau’s foremost experts on body language and a damn good profiler. He’d worked with her peripherally over the years, but had hoped to avoid being teamed up with her at TCD.
He’d seen her around the office, quick to offer her opinions on cases and silently studying anyone else who spoke. Profiling them, he was sure. She’d done it to him, too. If her reputation was deserved, she’d seen way too far into his mind, into his soul. He had no intention of letting her see any more.
He’d prefer to keep his secrets.
If anyone else had asked him to work with Melinda, he would have refused. But he owed Jill Pembrook more than he could ever repay her. So, if she wanted him to partner with the too-serious profiler to look into Petrov Armor’s connection to criminals, he’d keep his mouth shut and do it.
“I’ve got another one,” Melinda said, angling her laptop so he could see the most recent case she’d pulled up.
They’d been at it since yesterday, when Hendrick had found Petrov Armor listed in a number of Bureau cases. Their computer expert had flagged all the files, but Pembrook had assigned him and Melinda to go through each one, since Petrov Armor had never been officially charged.
So far, most of the mentions were offhand and too small to be useful. Like a single Petrov Armor pistol found at the scene of a mass killing. Although the man had been a convicted felon before that incident, he hadn’t bought the gun
