What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(83)

He reached the end of his property and circled toward the side of his house. It was possible she preferred the shady terrace. In his haste, he didn’t notice the sound of the side gate being pushed open, or the man who strolled up the paved walkway. It wasn’t until a male voice interrupted his increasingly frantic search that Griff realized he was no longer alone.

“Morning, Griff.”

Glancing to the side, Griff came to a grudging halt. His neighbor was a tall, lanky man with a thick mane of silver hair. Dr. Randall Gregory had been a plastic surgeon to the stars for over forty years before retiring and moving away from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood.

Now he was like Griff. A man who just wanted to live his life without people poking their nose into his business.

Which made them perfect neighbors.

“Randall.” He smoothed his features to a polite smile. “Have you seen the young woman who’s staying with me?”

The man’s heavy brows rose at the unexpected question. “Not this morning. Has something happened?”

Griff shrugged. “Just wondering if she’d wandered out here. I was about to make breakfast.”

“Oh.” The man gave a lift of his hands. “I can’t help you. I just came out myself.”

“Okay. Thanks.” On the point of turning away, Griff was halted when the man spoke again.

“Hey, I was going to ask if you got your alarm system fixed?”

Griff froze. “What?”

“The security firm you asked to come check your system was here a couple days ago,” Randall told him.

“I wasn’t home a couple of days ago,” Griff reminded the man.

“Yeah. The man came over and said that you told him that I had a key,” Randall said. “I didn’t tell anyone I had a spare to your place, so I assumed you must have sent him.”

“You let him in?”

“Yeah.” Randall frowned, a hint of worry settling on his tanned face. “Did I do something wrong?”

Griff wanted to screech in fury. Instead, he forced himself to find out as much information as possible.

“What do you remember about the man?”

“He had on a uniform from a security company.” Randall looked defensive. “I assumed you must be having trouble with your alarms.”

Griff balled his hands into tight fists. He’d never gone into details about his business or the fact that he was the owner of one of the top security firms in the world. Which meant he would never, ever hire anyone to screw with his high-tech equipment. Now his dislike in casual chitchat was coming back to bite him in the butt.

“Do you remember the name of the security company?”

Randall furrowed his brow, searching his memory. “Residential Alarms,” he at last murmured. “Or something like that.”

“Did you see what he was driving?”

“Just a plain van. White.”

“Christ,” Griff breathed.

“Is there anything I can do?” Randall called out as Griff spun on his heel and ran at full speed back into the house.

Griff ignored his worried neighbor as self-disgust blasted through him. He was considered the premier security expert in the world. His talents helped to protect America from terrorist attacks. But he’d been outmaneuvered by one of the oldest tricks in the book.

Jerking out his phone, he dialed 911.

Then he called Rylan.





Chapter Twenty-One


December 28, California



After a year spent traveling from one hotel room to another, Carmen was used to waking up and not knowing exactly where she was. Usually she’d roll onto her back and slowly allow the memory from the day before to fill in the blanks. Eventually she’d figure it out.

This morning it wasn’t nearly so easy.

For one thing, she was lying on a hard floor instead of a bed. And despite the gloom that surrounded her, she could tell that she was in a vast space, not an expensive suite.

With a small groan, she lifted a hand to press it against her aching head, trying to pinpoint just what had happened.

She remembered being in Griff ’s bed. His arms had been tightly wound around her as she’d finally fallen to sleep. And then...

Nothing.

She struggled to clear her oddly fuzzy gaze, her confusion only deepening as she focused on the ceiling high above her.

There were a few rays of sunlight that peeked through narrow windows. The rays caught the speckles of dust that danced in the hushed air, and allowed her to catch sight of the heavy iron beams that served as rafters. The sort of beams that were only used in industrial buildings.

Certainly not expensive hotels.

It took longer than it should have, but at last her confusion mutated into fear.

She didn’t exactly know how she’d gone from the comfort of Griff ’s bed to being stretched out on the hard cement floor, but she did know that she was in danger. And that she had to escape.

Sucking in a deep breath, she sorted through the fog in her brain. Her first instinct was to leap to her feet and flee in terror. A smart decision, except for the fact that her limbs felt like they were filled with lead.

Her second instinct was to close her eyes and pretend that she was still unconscious. Playing dead worked for possums, didn’t it?

But almost as if to prove that she couldn’t run, or hide, the sound of soft footsteps echoed through the silence.