Chapter 28
Outside in the corridor, Coop watched the flow of guests. Most were heading toward the exits. The protest outside had grown in both numbers and volume. The doors opened briefly as security hurried through, letting a burst of chanting echo down the hall.
“Looks like things are getting lively out there.”
He glanced over. Kyle Morgan stood beside him, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the entrance.
“Environmental group,” he explained casually. “They’ve been following Burnside all week.”
His attention still on the doors, he caught a brief incident of pushing and raised voices before security contained it.
“You’re with your parents tonight?” Kyle asked.
“And my daughter.”
He frowned slightly, as if thinking. “I passed your table just now. I only saw an older couple.”
“Tasha was on the dance floor with her boyfriend.”
Kyle shook his head. “I don’t think so. The band took a break when the protesters got loud. But I could’ve missed her.”
He glanced toward the wall of windows. “Or she grabbed a sign and joined them,” he muttered
“Really? Your daughter is a rebel?” His lips twitched, failing to suppress his amusement.
Coop didn’t find it funny. It was exactly the kind of thing Tasha would do. He looked toward the ladies’ room door, torn between staying with Erica and tracking down his bleeding-heart-liberal daughter before she got arrested.
“I’ll escort your date to your table if you want to go check,” Kyle offered.
He hesitated, weighing his priorities. Keeping Tasha out of a potential riot topped them. “That would help. Thanks.”
“No problem. You can’t be in two places at once.”
The restroom door opened. Erica came out, searching for him. “Vince, you’ll never guess—”
She halted when she saw Morgan standing beside him. “Hello,” she said hesitantly.
Just then, two police officers exited the ballroom, a vocal, struggling, and cuffed young man between them.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
He touched her arm. “There’s a disturbance with the protest,” he told her. “I need to find Tasha.”
More shouts echoed down the hall.
“Of course. Go,” she said.
“This is Special Agent Morgan. He’ll take you back.”
“I’ll be fine, Vince. Find Tasha,” she urged.
Two more police officers dragged another protestor out. Decision made, he told her, “Stay with my parents. We’ll leave as soon as I get back.”
He didn’t like it, but he moved, striding through the side door, already scanning the volatile crowd for his daughter.
***
Through the windows, Erica watched Vince until the crowd swallowed him. What had started as a noisy protest escalated fast. Security pushed forward, trying to contain. A sign went down. Someone shouted. The response came louder.
Her stomach clenched. Tasha could be somewhere in that chaos.
Vince would find her. She was sure of it.
Still, unease lingered, especially after the bathroom encounter.
“It’s probably not a good idea to head in just yet.”
The agent’s voice broke into her thoughts.
Up close, he was composed. Too much so, maybe. Suit immaculate, expression neutral to the point of indifference, as if the escalating noise only feet away didn’t affect him at all.
Another burst of chanting echoed down the corridor as the doors opened and shut again.
“Yeah. The ballroom isn’t a good idea,” he added. “Maybe when things settle down.”
She glanced between the ballroom and the windows. Standing here waiting and wondering wasn’t better.
“I know a quiet place,” he said. “Great view of the city.”
The Marriott had an observation deck. He had to mean that.
“I don’t know. Vince might be right back.”
He tapped his earpiece. “I’ll let him know.”
She considered his suggestion. If Vince had handed her off to Agent Morgan, he must trust him. If not her own personal Ranger, who better than an FBI agent?
A sign, “TEXAS AIN’T FOR SALE,” slammed hard against the window. It didn’t shatter but left a jagged crack.
“Quiet will be a nice change,” she said. “But only until things calm down.”
He gestured toward the bank of elevators on the other side of the hall. As they moved away from the noise, he tapped his earpiece. “She’s with me. We’re relocating now.”
His voice was neutral and professional, but she sensed his underlying tension.
“Is something happening?” she asked.
“Just checking in. Standard procedure when I leave my zone.”
He punched the call button, and the elevator doors opened immediately. He waited and let her enter the empty car first.
“How long have you known Lieutenant Cooper?” she asked as the metal doors slid shut and the car lurched into motion.
“Only a week. Our paths have crossed on a case. You?”
“Less than a month,” she replied, reflecting silently on how it seemed much longer than that. Erica frowned when the light above the door lit for G instead of 2.
“Shouldn’t we be going up?”
He didn’t answer. The elevator did it for him, the doors sliding open to reveal the garage. The dim lights cast long shadows, and the air was cool and damp. Nowhere close to the world they’d just left.
A distant drip, the slam of a car door, every sound echoed off the concrete. A black SUV with tinted windows idled nearby.
She retreated to the rear wall. “No. I’m not getting out here. What’s going on? Where’s Coop?”
Again, Morgan didn’t answer. Instead, his hand closed around her upper arm in a firm, near-painful grip. She tried to pull away, but he dug in harder.
The contrast with Vince hit hard. From the very beginning, she’d felt safe. Protected. Exactly what you should feel from someone sworn to protect.
With Morgan, cold flooded through her. His oath was meaningless. Justice was not his priority. With him, everything was transactional.
He tugged her forward. “Come on.”
“No.” She dug her heels in. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He yanked harder. Her dress ripped, and her hair slipped loose from its clip as she fought him. She was no match for his strength and stumbled out of the elevator.
“Let me go!” she cried.
He didn’t, dragging her to the SUV and wrenching open the rear door.
“Get in,” he ordered.
She pulled harder, shaking her head. “I won’t! Someone help me!” she screamed.
Short on patience, he lifted her off her feet and shoved her inside.
She caught herself on the seat, hair spilling across her face. She swept it aside as the door slammed shut behind her and the locks clicked with ominous finality.
Her heart pounded, her hand searching for the door latch, which did nothing when she pulled on it.
“Miss Stevens. We finally meet.”
Erica whipped around and stared in shocked horror at the other occupant of the back seat. Silvered hair. Immaculate suit. Eyes that measured rather than reacted.
Somehow, her voice was steady when she demanded, “What do you want from me?”
He regarded her for a long moment. “Do you know who I am?”
“I’d rather I didn’t,” she said. “But yes, Mr. Kedrov. I know you.”
“You have interfered in matters that do not concern you.” He reached into his jacket, withdrew a roll of mints, and popped one into his mouth. He paused then held the roll out to her. “Mentos?”
She stared at him, convinced he was insane or the devil incarnate.
He shrugged, unbothered, and slipped the roll into his jacket. The SUV lurched as the driver put it into gear.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.
“That is not important now.” He leaned forward, studying her. “You see what should remain unseen. You have cost me men, money, and damaged my reputation.”
His gaze was assessing and coldly predatory.
In that moment, she understood the fear Shannon and Gruzinsky felt.
“I’m trying to decide what to do with you,” he said in a menacing tone. “To do so, I must first determine whether you are useful or merely troublesome.” He reached out as if he might pick up a length of her hair. She wrenched violently away, slipping off the seat and onto the floor.
He dropped his hand, but he wasn’t done. “Choose wisely how you proceed. I am not a man known for his patience. Or his mercy.”
His threat hung heavy in the air.