Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,69
Bailey felt a wave of relief to be out in the open beneath a clear night sky. She looked at the side mirror and saw the building looming behind them. An icy chill raced down her spine.
“You were supposed to take the elevator,” Seth said.
Bailey looked at her foot. It was bleeding, damn it. She unzipped her purse and searched for a tissue.
“Shit, are you okay?” he asked.
“I stepped on something.”
No tissue, so she tore a piece of paper from her notepad and used it to blot the blood. She plucked a chunk of glass from the cut.
“I heard Lucinda in the hallway,” she told him, “so I took the stairs.”
“Are you sure it was her?”
“Yes.”
“Did she see you?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so. I cut through a maintenance room and found the parking garage, and then I heard someone following me.”
“Who was it?”
“I didn’t see.” Her stomach clenched as she thought of the metallic click. “Do you guys have security guards? I heard a noise, a click. Like a magazine being loaded.”
Seth cut a glance at her. “You mean like—”
“I don’t know who the hell it was, but I think they had a gun.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
JACOB MADE ONE more pass by Bailey’s building. This time her light was on. He circled the block and spotted her white Toyota parked along the street. He’d been by half an hour ago, so she must have just come home.
Jacob wedged his truck into a too-small space. He took the stairs to her apartment and knocked, struggling to tamp down his impatience as he waited for her to answer.
Finally, the door swung open and Bailey stood there in a short black dress.
“Sorry about Eli’s,” she said.
His gaze went from her cleavage to her legs to her bare feet and that silver toe ring.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I stepped on some glass in a parking garage.” She turned and limped into the kitchen, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “You want a drink?”
“No.”
Jacob shut the door and followed her. A shoebox crammed with first-aid supplies sat on her breakfast table alongside a bottle of rubbing alcohol. She sank into a chair and bent over her injured foot. She dabbed at the cut with a cotton ball, and he noticed the tremor in her hands.
“I left you a message,” she said, not looking up.
“I got it.”
“I would have called earlier, but I didn’t have my phone.”
Jacob pulled out the other chair and sat down, watching her. “Where were you?”
“I left the gala to go to meet a source at a local tech company.”
“Granite Tech.”
She glanced up, startled. “How did—”
“You mentioned them the other day.” And the fact that she didn’t remember told him just how rattled she was. He looked her over. Several curls clung to her sweaty neck. No other injuries that he could see besides the cut on the arch of her foot.
“Hold that, will you?” She rested her heel on his thigh. Jacob held the cotton ball in place as she rummaged through the shoebox. She unwrapped a big Band-Aid and sealed it over the cut, then she pulled her foot away and stood up.
“How about a bourbon?” she asked.
“I’m good.”
She crouched beside a cabinet and fished a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from behind a row of margarita glasses. She plunked it on the counter and blew a layer of dust off it. Looked like she hadn’t dragged it out since her last party.
“What did you learn at Granite Tech?” he asked.
“A lot.” She took a glass down from an upper cabinet and opened the fridge to get a can of Coke. “I can’t talk about it yet. I’m still nailing things down.”
Jacob gritted his teeth as she poured bourbon into the glass and followed it with a splash of Coke. She took a sip. Then she set the drink on the counter and watched him.
“You’re pissed that I stood you up,” she said.
“No.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on.”
“That’s not why I’m pissed.”
“At least you admit it.” She lifted her arms to twist her wild curls into a knot, and her dress rode up a few more inches, revealing those strong thighs she used for rowing.
He walked over to the counter and leaned against it, watching her.
She secured her hair and rested her hands on her hips, regarding him with a suspicious look. “Why are you pissed?” she asked.
“You didn’t listen to a word I said last night. You’re still nosing around a murder case that we both know has an organized-crime connection.