3. Sullivan

3

SULLIVAN

“ O w,” I groaned when the side of my head hit the floor. Thankfully, there was a plush rug under the chair that had tipped over when I tried to tug my hands free.

“Sullivan!” The man whose name I didn’t know despite him knowing mine came rushing down the hallway.

He removed the belt from my wrists, then lifted me into his arms. Rather than right the chair, he carried me over to the sofa.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, stroking my hair with one hand while keeping me on his lap with the opposite arm.

“Who are you?” I asked, looking into eyes that were so familiar yet I couldn’t place where I’d seen them before.

He sighed, shifted me off his lap, and stood. “I’ll explain later. For now, we need to be on our way.”

When he held out his hand, I considered refusing, but what would I do? I had no idea where I was other than somewhere in Edinburgh. I’d left everything in my car, so I had no means to call someone to pick me up, and even if I was able to contact a car service, I was dressed in little more than a ball gown and heels. Considering the night I’d had, I was disheveled, had been sick to my stomach more than once, and was sure the little makeup I wore was in streaks on my cheeks from crying. Not that I’d done it in front of him.

As soon as he’d left me bound to the chair, a torrent of tears fell from my eyes. The sobs racking my body were silent; I’d always been a quiet crier, even as a baby.

I looked up into the stranger’s eyes and took his outstretched hand. “Will you at least tell me your name?”

“David,” he said, removing the Harris Tweed jacket he wore. “Here, put this on.”

I eased my arms, one of which was already sore, into the sleeves.

“Let’s go. We have a long drive ahead of us.” He led me to the door and out to the lift.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere you’ll be safe.”

“Thank you, David,” I said to the man who… What was he? My savior? Guardian? Protector? There was also a chance he might be my killer, given one man had already met the same fate tonight. Plus, it seemed like he didn’t like me very much.

If I was in danger, I had to admit there was a certain comfort knowing I was being transported in an armored vehicle.

“My colleague is making arrangements for clothing and other incidentals to be delivered to the place where you’ll be staying.”

Clothing and incidentals? Okay. That seemed odd. How did the colleague know what size I wore? And, by the latter, did he mean things like knickers? God, I’d be mortified if that was the case.

“Wait. I need my computer and my mobile.”

David glanced in my direction. “Not possible.”

I shook my head. “I’m serious. I can’t leave it in my car, where anyone might get their hands on it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I presume your work is stored on some kind of cloud-based server, is it not?”

“Not entirely.” Especially not anymore, given the last thing I did before leaving the office was download every last piece of research I’d collected from the servers onto my laptop. I’d also deleted it, not that anyone working for the Crown Herald couldn’t have retrieved it.

I hadn’t spent an hour in this man’s presence, yet I was already familiar with the exasperated look he gave me. “Can’t your colleague make arrangements for that to be delivered as well?” I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but given David had said if he did honor my request to return me to my vehicle, I would likely be killed, I thought better of pressing him to do it.

“Well?” I asked when he didn’t respond.

“As I already said, retrieving your computer or your mobile will not be possible.”

“Wait a minute. Whoever you work for already has them, don’t they? They’re scrubbing them for everything they can get their grimy hands on.”

He raised a brow at my disparaging word choice. “Err, present company excluded from the grimy comment.”

He sighed and glanced over at me like I was a speck of lint he’d like to brush off his jacket. “I doubt the people I work for would find anything on them they don’t already know.”

“I can’t just leave it there.”

“‘No’ was never a word you accepted without an argument,” he said under his breath.

“What does that mean? And more, how would you know?”

“It was a supposition.”

“By the way, I have exceptional hearing.”

“Noted.” He wriggled in his seat.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m hungry.”

He sounded so much like a little boy that I nearly giggled. Or I would have if the memory of a gun being pressed against my temple was more distant. “You could’ve shot me.”

David shook his head. “I could have done. I chose not to.”

My mouth gaped. “What does that mean?” I asked for the second time. “Are you saying I was supposed to die? Is that what this car ride is all about? You’re taking me somewhere to kill me? Somewhere remote where my body will never be discovered?”

“Perhaps you should’ve considered a career as a fiction writer over investigative journalism.”

“Can we please go get my computer?” I pleaded. “I’m begging now.”

In anticipation of another negative response, I struggled to come up with a reason it would be imperative we do so. Instead, I was stunned when David touched his ear, then began talking.

“That’s right. See to it everything in the vehicle is removed, boxed up, and delivered.”

Everything? Would whoever he was talking to be able to discern what might be considered rubbish? “Err…”

He glanced over at me. “What now?”

“Just the computer and mobile will be fine. Thanks.”

He didn’t respond, nor did he say anything else to the person he’d asked to gather my things.

“We can stop somewhere if you’re hungry,” I said when I saw him rub his stomach.

“Not a good idea.”

“Wouldn’t you know by now if someone was following us?”

He shot me the exasperated look again.

“It’s a valid question,” I said under my breath.

“You aren’t the only one with exceptional hearing.”

Considering the mess my life was at the moment, that anything could make me smile stunned me.

While he drove, I sneaked glances at him. Weirdly, more than his eyes seemed familiar, but I still couldn’t place him.

“Do you live in Edinburgh?” I asked.

“No.”

“London?”

“Do you ever stop asking questions? Wait. I already know the answer.”

“You do?”

He smirked.

“So, do you live in London?”

“I have a place there. Not that I’m there very often.”

“Where are you instead?”

David glanced over at me again and shook his head. “Not there.”

“The place where you’re taking me?” I asked.

“I’m there even less.”

While he didn’t sound sad while talking about it, I couldn’t help but think the life he led was. I was about to ask about his family when I thought of mine. “I need to check in with my parents.” I waited several seconds for him to respond. “Did you hear me?” I finally asked.

“Someone will get word to them that you’re safe.”

My mouth gaped. “What does that mean?” I asked for what had to be the third or fourth time.

“You will not be permitted contact with anyone.”

I was about to ask if that included using my computer, but thought better of it. Surely, once I had it, I’d be able to send a secure message.

“Whatever you’re thinking, forget it. Someone tried to kill you tonight, Sullivan, and it wasn’t because you happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. They knew you were coming.”

“Did you?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I did not.”

“Did the people you work for?”

He shot me the look. “One would think a decent investigative reporter would know the answer without needing to ask the question.”

“‘A decent investigative reporter would know the answer,’” I mimicked, facing the passenger window and resting my head against the seat.

How ironic was it that I was close enough to discovering the truth about Eric Weber, and yet now I had to choose between pursuing the rest of the story and surviving? Earlier tonight, I’d had a gun against my head. When I was growing up in Ballater, the village outside Balmoral Castle, I couldn’t say such a thing would’ve ever entered my mind.

“David, where did you grow up?” I asked. Something about my childhood hometown made me wonder about his.

“My family moved quite often.”

“Edinburgh?”

“No. I spent more time in the west of Scotland.”

I was stunned he’d admitted that much. As long as he was talkative…

“Why were you at the charity event tonight?”

“In part because the people I work for received intel you would be.” The muscle at the corner of his right eye twitched.

“How? I mean, how could they know?”

“Think, Sullivan. Many of the questions you’ve asked me, you already know the answer to.”

“Do you work for SIS?” I asked.

He shot me the look again .

Since that seemed obvious, if they knew I planned to be there, they hadn’t found out via a guest list. The only way they could’ve was by hacking into my computer, surveilling me, or they’d been the ones to send the alert that Eric Weber would be in attendance. All notions rattled me. Maybe I was in too deep. I was a lone reporter, albeit one with access to the Crown Herald’s data banks and a wide network of sources. SIS would have exponentially more, along with access to intelligence the news agency never would. Oh, and they had snipers available on demand, not something a news agency could claim.

If I gave up now, would Eric Weber and his accomplices ever face judgment? I shook my head. I couldn’t quit, not in good conscience. It didn’t matter if the people I worked for buried the story. I’d find someone else interested in running it.

I decided to bite the bullet and ask if I’d be allowed to work where we were going. “You said I wouldn’t be permitted to contact anyone.”

He may have nodded. I wasn’t certain.

I bit my bottom lip. “What about work?”

“Your offices are closed for the holidays.”

“I can continue working on my story whether the Crown Herald is open or not.”

David took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Someone wants to kill you, Sullivan. More than one entity, in fact. It’s my job to ensure whoever it is, or they are, they don’t find out.”

“What about research?”

I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t respond.

Even if I figured out a way to send a secure message, other than my parents, who would I contact? Clive? I thought about the conversation I’d overheard. Rather than speaking with my mother as I’d assumed, what if he was alerting the people who’d wanted to kill me? The idea that my uncle would do such a thing sickened me.

So, what were my options? I could continue pursuing the investigation on my own as I’d intended after Clive said he was killing it. Or I could let it go. That idea turned my stomach as much as thinking my uncle had betrayed me.

He’d said that after the holiday break, I’d be given a new assignment. Would I go back to where I started out, as a society reporter?

It was at an event I’d been requested to cover in that role where I’d overheard two people discussing Eric Weber’s billion-dollar donation. After one said he’d hoped to finally get a glimpse of the man that evening, followed by the other saying Weber wouldn’t dare show his face, my curiosity had kicked in and I began what would be the biggest investigation of my career. One that had led to my eventual promotion to the bureau where my uncle was executive editor.

So, what all was at play here? Were Weber and SIS on the same side?

“You said you chose not to kill me.”

His glance in my direction told me he’d heard me.

“Why would SIS want me dead?”

Again, he didn’t respond. However, I had a more pressing issue. “I need to use the loo.”

“Can you wait another five minutes?”

It was questionable, but I said I could anyway.

David took the next exit from the highway, made several turns, then pulled up to a place that didn’t look open.

He got out of the SUV, but when I tried to do the same, I discovered the door wouldn’t budge. It opened for him, though.

“Do you use this vehicle for prisoner transport?” I asked.

No response. Not even the look.

“Didn’t your parents teach you it’s impolite to ignore someone speaking to you?”

“About as much as yours taught you it’s rude to ask endless questions.”

He rapped on a door marked “deliveries only,” and seconds later, it opened.

“Welcome, your—” a man with a heavy Indian accent began, but stopped abruptly when David shook his head. “Table for two?” he asked instead.

“Please, Ramesh.”

Rather than motioning for me to go first like any gentleman would, David followed the man who’d greeted us, giving me the opportunity to take him in from behind.

The view was breathtaking. Broad shoulders tapered in a V-shape to an arse any woman would want to get her hands on. I guessed he had to be six feet four, at least. And while I hadn’t seen much of his face other than by the glow of the SUV’s dashboard, it was enough to notice he was definitely handsome in a chiseled-Roman-god sort of way.

His aura, though, was what drew my attention the most. The way he carried himself portrayed a level of self-confidence bordering on arrogance—not something I usually found attractive.

The man was a sniper, worked for SIS, was broody in a typically Scottish way, had an amazing body, and once or twice, let his guard down enough for me to believe he had a dry wit.

It had been a while since I had a shag, good or bad, and I’d be willing to bet David would be an outstanding fuck.

As irritated as he seemed to be with me, I doubted that would be a perk of being under his protection.