A woman who might be scared, but still wanted to finda way to get those ghosts of the past out of her life. Once and forall.
The receptionist hung up. “Yes?”
He said, “Mr. Almonde is expecting us.”
“If you’ll come with me.” The voice came out of rightfield, from a young man in a suit that only highlighted exactly howskinny he was. Tight haircut. Thin-framed glasses. He clutched aniPad to his tie. “It’s this way.”
His gaze brushed over both of them, dismissing themas irrelevant in one sweep. Then he turned and headed for theelevator.
Megan glanced at Adrian as they followed. She made aface, which threatened to make him laugh. He held it in.
They stepped into the elevator. The assistant jabbedthe button for the penthouse and then jerked. Adrian realized he’dnoticed Megan’s shoes.
She grinned. “I have sixteen pairs, all differentcolors and designs. My nieces drew all over my white pair incolored marker. Permanent. Those are on my mantel at home.” Shemotioned to her shoes. “These are my dress pair.”
Adrian bit his lips together to keep fromlaughing.
The assistant huffed, then turned away from them. Thedoors beeped and slid open. He strode out into a luxurious hallway.Marble. Impressive paintings lined the halls. Tiny tables withvases and statues on them.
“I’m scared to swing my arms. What if I knocksomething over,” Megan whispered. “Do you think they’ll make me buyit?”
The assistant threw a set of double doors wide andsaid, “Two FBI agents are here to see you.”
Seconds later he was gone, and they were standingalone in the foyer of the penthouse apartment. The entire wallopposite them was made up of floor to ceiling windows.
A young man wearing bicycle shorts and a tiny tanktop strode in, a white towel over his shoulder. Curly hair wasmatted to his forehead with sweat that dampened his wholetorso.
Adrian should have held out his hand, but didn’treally want to.
Thankfully the man was undoing the Velcro on hisbicycle gloves. He didn’t offer a handshake either, but he clearlynoticed Megan. His attention swept down to her shoes and then backup with far more appreciation than the assistant. And not in a wayAdrian was all right with.
“I’m Special Agent Walker. This is Special AgentPerkins. We’re here about what happened at the think tankbuilding.”
Terrence Almonde nodded, his face displayingappropriate empathy. And a smidge of respect at discovering she wasin FBI agent.
Megan figured Adrian had introduced her that waypurely for this reason.
“Terrible thing.” Terrence moved to a row of cabinetson one wall and opened the one at the end. The inside housed arefrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of sparkling water and held itout. “Drink?”
They both shook their heads.
“I’d ask you to sit, but my housekeeper will tan myhide if I get sweat on the fabric.” He paused, then lifted hiseyebrows. “On second thought.” He moved to the couch with a slightgallop in his step and sat down. Like a little kid who was going toeat that forbidden cookie out of the jar because the punishment wasworth it.
Adrian just wanted to move this conversation along.“What was the think tank working on?”
“Ah, yes.” He addressed Megan, who had perched on theedge of an armchair. Adrian stood beside the back corner of theseat. Almonde said, “Fantastically interesting. Genetic research.”He shrugged. “It’s what we do.”
Okay, so that wasn’t even a complete answer. “Andwhat specifically was the think tank working on?” Adrianassumed they were solving some kind of problem. Get a bunch ofpeople from different backgrounds together, all of them brilliant,to figure out a solution.
“Well, the science is still very cutting edge. Butusing DNA research, we’ve isolated genes specific to people groupsaround the world. They’re working on the viability of using thatto…aid the government in their fight against terrorism.”
Megan chuckled, totally fake. “I’m afraid I got a Cin biology. You’re going to have to explain that a littlemore.”
Adrian could see the guy was hedging. “I can assureyou, we have the necessary security clearance.”
Almonde waved his hand. “No, no. That’s not it. Well,it’s just all very unsavory really. Talking about,” his voiceshifted to a whisper and he leaned forward. “Terrorism.” Hemade a blech sound and thensaid, “But one does what one can to fight that good fight, as itwere.”
“So they were using genetic research to targetterrorists.”
“Establishing the scientific basis, and moralimplications, of targeting people groups who are knowncombatants.”
“Like genocide?” Adrian said, very carefully. “But ofour enemies.”
Almonde blanched. “Theeffects would be contained and incredibly specific.”
“But you’re basically talking about killing people,wiping them out.” Regardless of their intentions. They would endlife purely due to DNA markers.
He said, “Enemies of America.” Like Adrian was theone who didn’t understand. “Anyway, it’s only an idea. That’s wherethe think tank came in.”
The rest of the conversation didn’t go much better.By the time they reached the elevator, Megan looked even moreexhausted. Adrian knew how that felt. “That guy is a piece ofwork.”
She nodded. “Okay, because I get that we’re at warwith ISIS, and we should use every method available—but that wasnuts, right?”
He nodded as well. “So does the blackmailer want toend the research, hurt Almonde’s business, or was he after one ofthe people who were killed today?”
Megan shrugged. They headed through the lobby and outto where he’d parked his car at the curb.
Seconds later, shots rang out.
The car windshield shattered. Megan screamed and fellto the ground.
Chapter9
Megan grunted as she landed on the sidewalk,thankfully on her good side. Her hip was going to be bruisedtomorrow. Another to add to the list of the injuries she’d gainedover the past few weeks. She’d been doing pretty well so far.Healing.
She lifted her arm. Red and wet. Her head swam. Shetried to sit up, but all she could do was lean awkwardly againstthe dirty car wheel. Two gunshot wounds? And both on the sameside.
“Adrian.” Her voice was barely audible.
Shots continued. Adrian was to her right, hunkereddown. He lifted up. Fired three shots. Back down, behind
