Rich (Benson Security #5) - Janet Elizabeth Henderson Page 0,22
team, reflects on Benson Security and on me. And, your family is relying on you to get the job done for them. So, no. I don’t think I’m overreacting. I think I’m dealing with a woman who’s acting out because she didn’t get her own way.”
She would not let him see the blow his words had been. “I care very much about resolving this for my family and ensuring Benson Security performs as a company at the top of its field should. I resent your comments.”
“Then change your behavior, so I won’t have to make them. Work with your team instead of against us. Treat your undercover role with the same dedication you treat every other aspect of your business life. I’ve seen how you work. You push yourself to attain the highest standard in everything you do and expect us to do the same. Why is this assignment any different?”
Because she didn’t want to be there.
Which meant he was right.
It was a knife to her stomach.
If there’d been any challenge in his demeanor, any anger in his voice, she would have fought him on the issue—even though she knew she was wrong. But he hadn’t given her even a sliver of a reason to keep on arguing. Her only saving grace was that there was no one around to watch her concede. But holy Yves Saint Laurent, it was hard to get the words out of her mouth.
Studying him carefully, watching for any sign of amusement or gloating, she postponed the inevitable. But there was no avoiding it. She had to say the words he needed to hear and hope he didn’t hold them over her forever.
Rachel cleared her throat and said, “I apologize. I will make every effort to perform as part of this team from now on.”
She was going to be sick. Bile actually raced to her mouth. This was hell.
The air in her office felt electrically charged as she waited for Harvard’s reaction. Would he rub her face in her apology? Would he continue to lecture her and explain things endlessly as men were wont to do? Would he laugh at her?
“Thanks,” he said as he pushed away from the door. “You want a coffee? I need one.”
That was it? That was all he had to say?
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
He nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Hesitantly, Rachel opened the drawer and took out the photo. Calmer now that she knew she wasn’t alone. That Harvard was there if she needed him. Not that she would, but the knowledge helped.
She stared at the photo as though looking at an image of someone else. It showed a woman being held down by one man while being raped by another. The only face in the photo was her own. And there were tears on her cheeks.
Fury burned white hot at the sight of the tears.
The bastards had made her cry.
And Rachel never cried.
It was tempting to shred the photo and flush it, but she’d done that once before. And she wouldn’t do it again. She wasn’t that scared girl anymore. So, instead, she dropped it into the side pocket of her handbag and zipped it tight. She’d figure out what to do about it later. Because there was no doubt in her mind that she’d have to deal with it eventually. There was no ignoring the photo this time, nor the message scrawled across the bottom.
The one that said, You shouldn’t be here.
As soon as he’d closed the door behind him, Harvard pulled out his phone and stepped into the outer office. He dialed Ryan, who answered immediately. “I need cameras inside Rachel’s office. Today.” He kept his voice low, so Rachel couldn’t overhear.
“What happened?” As usual, when it came to work, Ryan was completely professional. No hint of amusement in his voice at all.
Harvard flicked on the coffee machine that sat on the counter against the far wall. While it did its thing, he turned and leaned back against the counter, facing Rachel’s office. “If I had to guess, I’d say some sort of flashback.”
“Who had a flashback?” Ryan sounded confused.
“Rachel.” He shook his head. It didn’t make any sense. Her history was clear of trauma—unless it was from something that’d happened since she joined Benson Security. The team hadn’t exactly lived nice, safe lives these past few years. “Has she had any counseling? Treatment for PTSD? Any help with processing the stuff that happened in Peru?”