CHAPTER SEVEN

Her voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a knife. “Drop the gun! Now!”

She took in the scene before her, eyes widening in horror. Briefly, she thought she recognized the second man kneeling and crying on the floor. She’d gone through the company roster on the drive over, and judging by his balding head and oversized horn-rimmed glasses, she recognized the man as Earl Patterson, the company’s head of IT.

But her focus was drawn to the man standing over him, a towering figure in an expensive suit, his face obscured by shadows. His pressed white shirt stood out harshly against the dim lighting of the server room. But it wasn't his well-tailored suit that caught her attention – it was the glint of cold steel in his hand. A gun pressed against Earl's quivering forehead.

“Drop the gun!” Rachel repeated, aiming her weapon at the man.

Slowly, he turned towards her, his face coming into view as he did so. He was older than she’d imagined – late fifties, maybe. His sharp eyes were ice-cold and piercing, framed by salt-and-pepper brows that were drawn together in irritation at being interrupted.

Elias Grant stood with one hand gripping Earl's shoulder, the other pressing the muzzle of a gun to the man's forehead. Earl's face was ashen, his eyes wide with terror.

For a moment, neither man moved. Then, slowly, Elias turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. His expression was one of mild irritation rather than surprise or fear.

"I said drop it!" Rachel repeated, her own weapon now trained on Elias's back. "And step away from him!"

Elias's lip curled into a sneer. The tall man, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, brushed his dark hair back, revealing a face that might have been handsome if not for the coldness in his eyes.

"And who might you be?"

Rachel's finger tightened on the trigger. "Texas Ranger. Now, I won't ask again. Drop. The. Gun."

For a long moment, Elias simply stared at her, as if weighing his options. Then, with a sigh of frustration, he lowered the gun and released his grip on Earl's shoulder.

Earl immediately stumbled away, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He looked like he might collapse at any moment.

Rachel kept her gun trained on Elias as she stepped further into the room, her eyes never leaving his face. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, despite his outwardly calm demeanor.

This man was dangerous. Every instinct in her body screamed it.

As Elias straightened, he smoothed a hand down the front of his suit, drawing Rachel's attention to the gleaming cufflinks at his wrists. They were expensive, she noted, just like everything else about him. From the perfectly polished shoes to the rolex watch on his wrist, this man exuded wealth and power.

It was a stark contrast to Earl, who was now huddled against the far wall, his clothes rumpled and his face pale. He looked like a man who had just stared death in the face.

“Gun!” she snapped again.

Elias finally placed the weapon on the ground, nudging it towards her with his polished shoe. Elias's mouth twitched, but he didn't speak. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, the picture of nonchalance.

Rachel wasn't fooled. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darted towards the door. He was like a coiled snake, ready to strike at any moment.

She took a step closer, her gun still trained on his chest. "Why don't you start by telling me what the hell is going on here?"

Elias's eyes met hers, and for a moment, Rachel felt a chill run down her spine. There was something in those eyes, something cold and calculating.

"I don't believe that's any of your concern, Ranger," he said, his voice smooth as silk.

Rachel's grip tightened on her gun. "I'm making it my concern."

The room fell silent, the only sound the hum of the servers and Earl's ragged breathing. Rachel could feel the weight of Elias's gaze on her, assessing, calculating.

She met his stare head-on, refusing to back down. She had faced men like this before, men who thought they were above the law. She wouldn't let him intimidate her.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," she said, her voice calm and steady. "But one way or another, you're coming with me."

Elias's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. He reached out, straightening Earl's collar with a gentle tug. Earl flinched at the contact, his eyes wide with fear.

"There's no need for dramatics, Ranger," Elias said, his tone light, almost amused. "This is all just a simple misunderstanding."

Rachel scowled, her patience wearing thin. She took another step forward, her boot clicking against the hard floor. "I'll be the judge of that. Now, let's go. I have some questions for you."

Elias sighed, as if the whole situation was a mere inconvenience. He brushed an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve, his cufflinks glinting in the harsh fluorescent light.

"If you insist." He gestured towards the door, a mocking invitation.

Rachel didn't take her eyes off him as she reached for her handcuffs.

"I do hope this won't take long," he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "I have a very busy schedule, you understand."

Earl's face glistened with sweat, his eyes darting between Rachel and Elias. "This... this is all a misunderstanding," he stammered, his voice shaky. "I was just helping Mr. Grant prepare for a play. You know, rehearsing lines, getting into character."

Rachel's gaze remained fixed on Elias, her jaw clenched. She stepped closer to Earl, her boots echoing on the polished concrete floor. "A play? With a gun to your head?" Her words were sharp, cutting through the tense air.

Elias nodded, his expression a mask of calm composure. "Indeed. A modern retelling of a classic, with a bit of a twist." His lips curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Earl here was kind enough to assist me in perfecting my performance."

Earl's trembling hands, the beads of sweat on his brow, the way his eyes flickered to Elias before answering—it all pointed to a man dominated by another. The terror was palpable.

She leaned in, her face inches from Elias'. Her words were a low growl, a challenge. "You expect me to believe that you were rehearsing a play in a server room with a loaded gun?"

Elias met her gaze unflinchingly, his blue eyes like chips of ice. "Believe what you will, Ranger Blackwood. The truth is often stranger than fiction."

Rachel's mind raced, analyzing every microexpression, every twitch of Elias's face. She had interrogated countless suspects, had learned to read the subtle tells that betrayed a lie. And right now, every fiber of her being was telling her that Elias Grant was a deeply dangerous man. He had Earl wrapped around his finger.

The thugs by the door weren’t receptionists. It all smelled of organized crime, and she was beginning to wonder what she’d accidentally stepped foot into.

Elias was still watching her casually as she approached with the handcuffs. “Face the wall!” she demanded.

"Rachel?" Ethan's voice called from the entrance room.

“I'm alright, Ethan," Rachel called back, her eyes never leaving Elias. She watched as the man turned around compliantly, his hands coming up in surrender. Beneath the sharp lighting of the room, his finely tailored suit was as dark as midnight, accentuating the imposing figure he cut.

She advanced carefully. As she drew closer, she could see the faint lines creasing his forehead, the barely perceptible grit of his teeth. The only signs that he was feeling any pressure at all.

With a swift movement, Rachel had his wrists bound with the steel cuffs. The click of the locked restraints echoed ominously in the silent room.

"All right," she lowered her weapon but kept a tight grip on it nonetheless. "Let's take a walk."

She dragged Elias away from the weeping Earl. Spittle dribbled down the IT man’s lips, staining his shirt. Elias didn’t even glance back.

As Rachel reached the reception area, she glanced towards where the three hulking thugs hunched like chastised schoolboys in the corner, not quite wanting to meet Elias’ scorching gaze.

Ethan remained with his gun trained on the three bulky men that were still frozen in their places. He gave her a quick nod and kept his position by the door.

Rachel led Elias towards the fire escape exit, making sure to keep herself between him and Ethan. Even handcuffed and at gunpoint, Elias walked with an air of arrogance. It seemed like he considered this whole ordeal beneath his concern.

But Rachel wasn't fooled. There was an underlying tension in Elias’s movements, like a cornered animal calculating its options for escape or attack.

As they neared the exit, Ethan swiftly moved ahead to open the door leading out to a fire escape. With a final glance towards Earl still huddled in the corner—terrified but ultimately unharmed—Rachel pushed Elias out onto the landing.

The warm morning air hit them instantly, carrying with it a sense of foreboding that curled around them like the Texas fog. The metal stairs hummed with the echo of distant traffic, and the pulsing rhythm of the city below served as a stark contrast to the stillness of the escape landing.

Ethan fell into step behind her, his boots clanging against the metal grating. The sound echoed through the warm air, punctuating the tense silence that had fallen over them.

Elias moved calmly ahead of her, his gait unhurried. His head tilted upward as if he was taking in the sight of the grey sky. "What a lovely morning," he remarked, his voice resonating in the hollow space between buildings. The nonchalance of his tone grated on Rachel's nerves.

She remained silent, her grip tightening around her weapon. Her eyes scanned their surroundings.

Suddenly, Elias turned to look at her, and she instinctively tightened her hold on her gun. But he merely raised an eyebrow at her, a half-smile playing on his lips—a chilling reminder that even in custody, this man was far from defeated.

The stairs were slick from an earlier rainfall, patches of sunlight reflected off of puddles scattered across their path.

“This is about Rebecca Morris, isn’t it?”

Rachel tensed. She didn’t say anything, hoping he’d continue to volunteer more information.

But Elias just set his shoulders, loosed a long sigh and muttered, “I really don’t have time for this. Her father is the one you should be looking at. Robert Morris. He’s as guilty as sin.”

“Keep moving!” Rachel snapped, and they reached the base of the fire escape, moving around the construction team still at work in the main foyer. Construction tape fluttered as they moved past, a stark yellow against the grey of the concrete.

The sounds of hammering and drilling echoed around them as they navigated through the scaffolding. Workers in high-visibility jackets glanced at them curiously, their gazes lingering on Elias's handcuffs.

Rachel kept her gaze trained ahead, ignoring the curious onlookers. Her mind was filled with new questions, new leads to chase down. Robert Morris...

She gave Elias a sharp shove towards their vehicle parked at the end of the street. "Get in," she ordered, pointing towards the back seat with her gun.

Elias paused for a moment before complying, lowering himself into the vehicle with an air of resigned patience, like this was just another inconvenience in his busy day.

Rachel swung the door shut behind him, securing it with a swift movement. The heavy click of the lock falling into place reverberated through the alleyway.

Ethan joined her by the driver's side, holstering his gun with a relieved sigh. "That went better than expected," he commented, his gaze flickering towards Elias in the back seat.

"Don't let your guard down yet," Rachel warned him, her eyes never leaving their captive. "A snake is most dangerous when it's cornered."