Abandoned and Unseen (Branded Packs #2)(60)

Crossing to the desk, Sinclair came to an abrupt halt at the faint smell that clung to the air.

That didn’t belong to Markham. Or the male stranger.

It was distinctly female. And oddly familiar.

Distracted by the elusive scent, Sinclair was caught off guard by the sudden sound of a male voice behind him.

“What are you doing in here?”

Smoothing his expression to an unreadable mask, he slowly turned to discover Grant regarding him with open suspicion. Of course, the head of security was always suspicious.

Thankfully, he wasn’t very bright.

“I had a meeting scheduled with the Director,” Sinclair said, lifting his arm to glance at his watch. “I was waiting for him to show up.”

Grant scowled but readily accepted the excuse. “He’s out of town.”

Hmm. The only time that Markham was willing to leave his petty dictatorship in Boulder was when he was forced to travel to D.C.

“Really? That was sudden.” Sinclair carefully studied Grant, monitoring every emotion that flickered over his square face. “An emergency?”

Grant was instantly bristling at the question. Which told Sinclair that the head of security didn’t know where Markham had gone, or why. Which was obviously pissing the former soldier off.

“The Director doesn’t have to share his schedule with his employees,” he snapped.

Sinclair gave a nonchalant lift of his hands, resisting the urge to make up a reason to linger in the office. Grant might not be brilliant, but he wasn’t completely stupid. And there was no reason to draw attention to himself. Right now they believed he was just another guard.

To stay effective, he had to keep his cover.

“Hey, that’s fine with me,” he said, strolling toward the door. “I’ll go back home and wait for my shift.”

Waiting until they were both in the hallway, Grant firmly pulled the door shut behind them with a warning glare in Sinclair’s direction.

“Don’t come in this office unless Markham is here. Got it?”

Sinclair shrugged. “Got it.”

At the point of strolling away, both men froze when the unmistakable sound of shouting was heard, followed by someone beeping a car horn over and over.

“Now what?” Grant bit out. “Come with me,” he ordered Sinclair, jogging down the hallway to the steel door at the end.

He had to pause to use his keycard to trip the lock, and then they were hurrying down the emergency stairs and out the back exit.

The sound of beeping continued as they hurried toward the gate. Five minutes later, they were confronted with the sight of a uniformed guard with his weapon pointed at a man on the other side of the fence. The stranger was standing next to his car with his arm shoved through the open window so he could continue to lean on the horn.

Grant stormed up to the guard, his face flushed with anger. Clearly the morning hadn’t been going well for the head of security.

“What’s going on here?” he snarled.

The guard lowered his weapon, but his gaze remained trained on the stranger who’d thankfully stopped honking his horn. Sinclair breathed a sigh of relief.

There were times when super hearing sucked.

“This man is insisting he’s an employee,” the guard explained. “But he refuses to show his I.D.”

The head of security sent an impatient glance toward the intruder and abruptly stiffened in shock.

“Viker,” the man breathed.

“Grant.”

The stranger slammed his car door shut and strolled forward. He looked like he’d just crawled out of the gutter with his hair matted and his face unshaven. Even more surprising, there was a feverish flush to his cheeks, and a glitter in his eyes that made Sinclair question whether or not he was entirely sane.

So how was he connected to the SAU?

Reaching the fence, the man flashed a smile at the rigid head of security.

“Good to see you.”

With a small shake of his head, Grant turned to flick a hand in the guard’s direction.

“I’ll deal with this.”

The guard nodded, turning to head toward the small building where the guards could keep watch with the security cameras. At the same time, Sinclair silently stepped into the shadows of the building, giving himself a perfect view of the men without drawing attention to himself.

“Have you lost your mind, Viker?” Grant snapped, stepping toward the fence. “You were warned that if you showed your face in public you would be signing your death warrant.”

Sinclair arched a brow. Viker? The name wasn’t familiar, but the two obviously knew one another. And they hadn’t parted as friends.

“I need to see Markham,” the intruder insisted.

“He’s not here.”

Viker scowled in frustration. “Shit.”

Grant planted his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest.

“Consider yourself lucky. He has standing orders to have you shot on sight. If the guard had recognized you, you’d already be dead. And if Markham had been here…” An ugly smile stretched Grant’s lips. “He would have pulled the trigger himself.”

The intruder licked his lips, glancing over his shoulder at his car before returning his attention to Grant.

“Then he’d be a fool,” he warned. “I have something he wants.”