Tonight, Leila wished she had a different policy. It was only six o’clock, but because it was Friday, the place was eerily empty. Normally she didn’t mind being in the office alone. She should have been happy to have some time alone to think.
Right now, though, she wanted the background noise. She wanted the reminder that she wasn’t all alone in the world, that she still had people she loved and who loved her, that she still had a company to run, to keep her going. When she was alone, it was too easy to fixate on what she’d lost. Her mother, so long ago. Her father, so recently. And soon, probably her father’s company, too.
It was too easy to focus on Davis. Too easy to think about how much she already missed him, after a week of barely talking. Definitely too easy to worry about what else he might have uncovered in her company that he wasn’t telling her.
By this point, he’d figured out that she was keeping something from him. But he hadn’t pulled the plug on his undercover operation, so he didn’t realize she’d told anyone about who he really was.
Guilt nagged her, an itch to come clean with him that she couldn’t give in to. Half the reason she’d blurted the truth to Eric had been to stop him from kissing her. Right now, she wanted to talk to her uncle about what was going on. But even though Davis had betrayed her, she didn’t want to do the same to him. She’d broken her promise by telling Eric, but Davis’s words had rung in her head about the secrecy of the investigation. So, she’d made Eric promise repeatedly not to tell anyone else. And as bad as she wanted her uncle’s insight right now, she’d resisted confiding in him.
She wondered if Davis had decided to do it himself. He and her uncle had disappeared in the afternoon. They’d returned after an hour, both looking serious. Her uncle had given Davis a pointed nod as they’d headed to their separate work spaces. It was a nod Leila recognized, one that said the men were on a shared mission.
It was a little surprising that Davis would spill FBI secrets voluntarily, but her uncle was persuasive. And he was insightful. If there was anyone who knew the ins and outs of the company as well as she did—or maybe even better—it was Uncle Joel.
Before Eric had taken off, Davis had popped his head into her office. He’d told her he was heading home in a subdued tone, given no hint that he still believed the lie she’d told him earlier in the week.
The desire to call him right back, demand that he come clean with her so they could figure out not just what was happening at Petrov Armor, but also what was happening between them, had almost been too strong to resist. But she had resisted, and now Davis was gone. A little voice in the back of her mind told her it was unlikely he’d be back on Monday morning. She wondered if a group of FBI agents holding up badges and making a scene would arrive instead.
Leila swore, rubbed the back of her neck and stood up. The darkness beyond her office was depressing, almost spooky, especially knowing that the person who’d attacked her had followed her from her office. But he was in jail, Leila reminded herself. After enough time had gone by without another incident, the police believed she was safe, so she no longer had cops following her. Davis seemed less convinced—or maybe he was just overprotective—but she needed to focus on things she could control.
Besides, what better time was there to get a jump on Davis’s investigation? The question was, where could she look that she hadn’t already checked?
The security access logs. It was one of the few things Davis had reviewed without her. She and Eric had talked about Theresa’s easy access to the armor materials, and they’d looked through supply orders. Since Davis had already found Theresa’s access card used at strange hours, Eric had suggested they not waste their time rechecking.
Still, Davis wasn’t telling her everything. So maybe he’d found more than a single late-night access. Maybe he’d found a pattern. And as much as she didn’t want to believe Theresa was involved, Eric was right. She was the most logical choice.
Besides being the one most familiar with the armor material, she was the one who’d have the easiest time swapping it out. Of all the employees who’d been here a long time and had sufficient security clearance to be able to pull this off, she was one of the few who hadn’t been brought in by her father. Uncle Joel had found Theresa. When her father returned to work, he and Theresa seemed to have a mutual admiration, but maybe Leila had misread it.
She sank back into the chair behind her desk and pulled up the security card logs, scrolling back to the time when the defective armor had been shipped out. A single late-night access by Theresa, just as Davis had said.
Frowning, she leaned back in her chair and sighed. Then, she slid forward again and went back a few weeks. Before the shipment had been sent out, around the time the armor would have been made. Three late-night access logs that week. Her heart pounded faster, the excitement of finding something mixed with the anger of Theresa’s betrayal.
Her breath stalled in her throat as she read the name on the log. Not Theresa, but Eric.
“No,” Leila said out loud, leaning closer to the screen as if the proximity would suddenly change the name in front of her in black and white. “No way.”
“No way what?” a familiar voice came from the doorway to her office.
Her heart seemed to freeze, then take off at an intensity that was almost painful as she lifted her gaze
