How Beauty Loved the Beast - By Jax Garren Page 0,2
his desk, just in case anybody peeked inside, and moved to the file cabinet behind her.
Before long it became obvious the paper file she was seeking, the one that proved ChemCorps had been lying to the FDA regarding their toxin reports, was not going to be so easy to locate. It was dangerous work breaking into a plant for a file folder, but this chipping away at Ananke’s control was what the Underlight did. Instead of a violent, Guy Fawkes style insurgency, the Underlight exposed unethical practices of Ananke’s corporate empire and garnered popular support to take down those giants, one news article, one court case, one internet campaign at a time.
Occasionally acquiring proof of misdeeds required a little...reconnaissance. Like breaking into the center of a highly guarded chemical plant.
Jolie studied the room for a likely hiding place for those papers. The opulence Grant Barnett had managed to squeeze into an underground compound was ridiculous. Real oil paintings hung on windowless walls, the floor was large enough for two Persian rugs, and his desk was a Lexington. Jolie had grown up around luxuries like this and could tell the difference between good taste and a show-off.
Grant was definitely the latter.
She toed him with her leather boots. “Where do you keep your secrets, Grant?” Not that he could answer her. That sedative was designed for somebody a lot harder to take down than doughy-cheeked Grant. She glanced around the room. “You’re probably too proud of your cleverness to store them behind a painting.” She frowned at the carpet. “Cellars under the carpet only come in shacks...at least in the movies.” She looked up. “Bingo.”
A Franklin bench, an antique piece that folded from a chair to a stepladder, was stored at an odd angle. “Right beneath the ceiling tile you replaced in a different direction than the rest of them. Nice job.” She flipped the bench to a ladder, climbed up and, as she suspected, found that the ceiling tile removed with ease to reveal a crawlspace.
Inside was an accordion folder. Jolie decided male predictability did have its perks and smiled. Yup, her first mission to take point on was going exactly as planned.
Noise outside. Voices approaching.
She ducked her head for cursing her luck. She glanced over to the desk. Grant was well tucked away and the screensaver had kicked on, hiding the file transfer. In all likelihood, nobody would notice the wrong phone was plugged in.
A knock at the door. “Mr. Barnett? Anderson dropped by and wants to see you. Mr. Barnett?”
The doorknob rattled. Jolie grabbed the edges of the ceiling and pulled. Reinforced. The tile was going to be a tight squeeze, but she thought she could make it. She pulled herself up enough to kick the Franklin stool closed then did a muscle-up into the tiny space, thanking her lucky stars her latest dancing troupe was happy to let her perform as an aerialist. That work gave her good reason to maintain the arm strength it took to climb a rope or dance on a hoop...or pull herself into the ceiling rafters.
She curled into a ball, cramming herself into the hidey-hole, and slid the tile back into place, this time going the correct direction.
A moment later the door opened. “Mr. Barnett?” Quiet. Then the woman muttered, “I could’ve sworn I saw you come in here.” More silence.
Jolie sighed. She had a show tonight and was going to be late if this woman didn’t get her ass out of the office so she could climb down with her prize. Although things were about to get a lot tougher if the woman checked behind the desk...
“Mr. Barnett! Grant! Guards!”
Shit. “Plan B, Brayden,” she muttered into the microphone.
“You okay?” her partner in crime asked. “Hauk will kill me if anything happens to—”
“Hauk’s not going to know, because I’m getting out of here.” Somehow.
Wesley Haukon was normally the one the Underlight sent on missions of corporate espionage, but right now he was hidden while he recovered from traumatic injury dealt by these assholes. Jolie still burned with rage every time she thought about it. But right now she didn’t have time for anger; she needed to figure out her next move.
If he were here, Hauk, her...boyfriend? Was that the right word? They hadn’t exactly worked those little details out two weeks ago in the hospital, when they’d agreed to start whatever it was they had agreed to start. And since he was in hiding, she hadn’t been able to visit him since to