11. Courtney

I watchthem leave and shake my head, wondering if the last fifteen minutes have been a strange hallucination and I'm actually asleep at my desk.

But something crinkles in my hand when I clench it, scratching my skin. I glance down and see the license plate number on the number and it all settles in my belly like some kind of fucking nightmare.

I don't need this. I don't need any of this. I'm barely getting my feet under me since my parents passed away in that plane crash over the weekend. The last thing I want to do is deal with anything else stressful. But if someone at my company is following me after hours, I have a right to know who that is.

Hell, safety is paramount to me which is why I installed our new system. Thinking it was safer than anything else on the market. Only to now run into issues on that too.

I smooth out the paper and stare at the number, not recognizing it. So it's not one of the ones that is permanently assigned to one of our executives. It's one of the rotating number that get used for various purposes.

I pick up the phone to call and then I slowly drop it, changing my mind. I don't want there to be any record of my call. I don't want anybody to know what I'm doing.

Safety. Everything is all about safety.

I pick up the paper and hide it in an empty folder and then immediately feel like an idiot. But I walk out the door and smile at my assistant. "Jen, I'm going downstairs to take care of something. I'll be back shortly. Hold all my calls or if it's important send them to my cell phone. I'll have it on me."

She nods and then I turn and walk away, heading to the elevator to our basement underground parking. That's where we keep the cars and there's an office down there to keep track of the cars coming and going.

I step out and immediately the cool gloom of the lot makes my skin goosebump and my nerves shimmer, a little skitter of something off to the left making my head whip around.

A rustle makes my steps quicker and the tap tap of my heels echoes all around the dim space. I swear I hear the scuff of a shoe on concrete and my hair lifts on the back of my neck, the goosebumps making me shiver.

I finally reach the small office tucked into the back and sigh in relief, rushing inside.

The man seated behind the cluttered desk jumps, his eyes darting towards me. "Hello?"

I smile at him. "I'm sorry." I hold my hand out and shake the hand that he holds out, trying to ignore the fact that he's sweating so bad that his skin feels like an oil slick. I even make sure that I don't rub my hands on my dress like I'm dying to do. Not only might it offend him but it might ruin the fabric of my dress. And it's one of my favorites. I wore it this morning to try and feel a little more in charge of myself. Gird my loins I guess. My lips twist at the phrase which actually sounds awful.

"I'm sorry…what is your name?" I cock my head and shoot him a dazzling smile, hoping that he is suitably impressed.

"What's your name?" He asks me. The man's eyes read more suspicious than dazzled, dammit!

"I'm Courtney Monroe. That one." I point at the picture on the wall that shows all the executives currently, including me in it.

He immediately jumps to his feet, almost falling over the desk and sending a waterfall of papers to the floor. He bends down to pick them up and I lean over to help and almost get beaned in the head. I back away.

This guy's so jumpy that I might end up with a concussion if I'm not careful.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Monroe. I should have recognized you." He stands up with the papers in his hand and nods to a seat in front of the desk that looks like its legs are about to tip over.

I shake my head. "That's alright. What's your name?"

"Jerry, ma'am."

I cringe at that word. Dammit, I hate hearing that word. Nothing is worse to a woman than a strange man calling her ma'am. It should be illegal.

"Please, Ms. Monroe is fine."

"Okay, Ms. Monroe." His face flushes and I try not to notice the hero worship he's throwing my way. It actually might make it easier to talk him into keeping our conversation quiet.

I give him a conspiratorial look. "Jerry. I saw one of our cars out last night and it looked like it was parked in an unsafe neighborhood and I was very concerned. I want to make sure that the person that used the car is alright. Do you think you can help me?"

He straightens his pudgy little shoulders and firms his chin. "Absolutely, ma'a…I mean Ms. Monroe. All I need is the license plate number and I can check who took the car out."

I nod my head like I didn't know that. Then I lean over and whisper to him. "Do you think we can keep this just between us, Jerry? I don't want to embarrass this other person by having it get out on the old office grapevine. You know how fast these stories get passed around."

"Absolutely, Ms. Monroe. I'd be happy to do this for you. Do you have the license plate number?"

I hand him the crumpled up piece of paper and he looks it over before nodding and sitting at his computer. He looks at me over the top of his very thick glasses. "This will just take a minute, Ms. Monroe."

A man of his words, he glances up when he's got the name. "That's odd."

"What is?" My voice is breathless with anticipation and I'm about to jump out of my skin, my eyes darting between him and the doorway, expecting someone to leap through it at any minute and distract either one of us.

"It's Mr. Henry. Evan Henry. And he's got his own car so I don't know why he'd need another car."

My shoulders slump and it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room. Evan. He was following me.

I pace back and forth, my focus on my own thoughts and not the man who's still spouting his theories about why Evan might need a different car.

"Can I see the car?"

He nods and picks up a set of keys. "Sure. I haven't checked it yet so I might as well come with you."

So we step out of the office and he locks the door behind us. He eyes me and smirks. "You can't be too damn careful."

"Very true." I answer him but inside I'm wondering if I could have been more careful. Could I have picked up on whatever is going on with Evan?

And does this sudden problem with the security systems have anything to do with that.

But I smile and follow him, keeping my uneasy thoughts to myself. We reach the car and I walk around it with him and then he opens the door and peeks inside.

It's spotlessly clean, not one thing out of place. He opens the back doors and then he walks around, muttering to himself and running though a checklist, making a mark each time he answers one of his own questions.

When he turns to check something else in the back, I notice something in between the seats and reach down to grab it quickly, hiding it before good ol' Jerry can realize I snagged something from his car.

"Looks good to me." He opens the glove box and then the trunk and smiles. "Looks good. I guess I can mark this one off." His eyes turn to me. "I guess the car must have been safe enough last night. But I hope you point out to Mr. Henry that we shouldn't leave the company vehicles in some strange place all alone where they could be damaged. They do belong to the company," he huffs out, his hackles clearly raised.

I nod my head and pat his arm, smiling when he grins at me, stunned. "Don't you worry. I'm gonna talk to Mr. Henry about this right away. Safety should be important to everyone in the company."

He nods quickly and then he shuffles foot to foot. I grunt and he smiles widely. "It was wonderful meeting you, ma'am."

"You too, Jerry. Take care."

I step out of that stuffy, close office and sigh. "Now what do I do."

I pace out and over to the elevator, not even flinching when a car starts near me. I'm too busy thinking, wondering what the hell is going on around here.

But I notice when the headlights blind me and the car revs its engine and then someone slams on the gas and it's barreling towards me and I'm too frozen to move, wondering what the hell to do.

A heavy shape slams into me and a deep grunt hits my ear as we hit the pavement.

It gets off of me quickly and I suck in a gasping breath, my body aching so much that it feels like every inch of me is bruised.

The man glares down at me, his crystal-blue eyes so angry that it looks like he could tear that car apart with his bare hands. We both look over and see it racing out of the garage and Reid slams his fist into his hand before he grabs his phone and dials a number.

"Yep. Just what you thought might happen." Reid's eyes turn to me and he nods. "I'm on my way home with her."

And before I can get one word out, he leans down and grasps my hand, easily lifting me to my feet and then throwing me over his shoulder and opening his car door, throwing me in the back seat so hard that my hair flies out of the twist it's in and blinds me.

And then he slams the door closed, gets in the front and slams his car in drive, still muttering under his breath.

And I just sit there and wonder what the hell just happened. One minute I thought I was gonna die in my own building and then the next, Reid was flying in like Superman and saving me.

A girl could get used to that.