Striking Distance. Debra Webb

calm. She forced her heart rate back to a normal pace and focused on slowing her respiration. She couldn’t let him see that she recognized the name. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

      He nodded toward the building. “Fourth floor. The elevator opens right into the Colby Agency lobby,” he went on as if she’d said nothing. “Ask for Victoria Colby. Don’t let anyone else sign for the package except her. Do you understand?”

      She moistened her suddenly dry lips. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that he’d just said more to her at one time than any other time since they’d met. “What’s in the package? You’re sure—”

      “Go.” He pushed the package and an electronic clipboard toward her and pressed her with a gaze that warned her not to argue. “Now.”

      She took the package and the clipboard and climbed out of the SUV. She walked slowly across the parking lot, praying that Maverick had her location. She forced her mind to consider what could be in the package. It felt a little light for any kind of elaborate explosive. A detonator would be required. But then again there were all kinds of lightweight devices. She considered the possibility of some sort of poison. Something absorbed through the skin or inhaled like anthrax.

      Resisting the impulse to scan the lot for Maverick’s vehicle, she opened the main door and stepped inside. She strode straight up to the lobby desk.

      “I have a package for Victoria Colby,” she said in as professional a tone as she could manage. He could be listening, watching even. Who knew what sort of gadgets he could have added to the innocuous-looking uniform. There’d been no time to check it out thoroughly.

      “Fourth floor,” the watchman said without even asking for ID.

      It was the uniform. It was too much a part of everyday life for anyone to give it a second thought.

      Tasha went to the bank of elevators and pressed the call button. She let her respiration and heart rate increase faster and faster as a signal to Maverick that something was wrong. By the time she reached the fourth floor, her skin felt flushed and she’d all but hyperventilated. Even if Seth had some way of monitoring her now, he would expect her to be nervous going in.

      The receptionist greeted her with a smile and a pleasant, “May I help you?”

      “I have a delivery for Victoria Colby.”

      The receptionist reached for the package. “I’ll take it for you.”

      Tasha knew a moment’s panic. “I’m sorry,” she said, grabbing back control. “Ms. Colby has to personally sign for the package.”

      “Oh.” The woman’s expression turned to one of confusion, or maybe irritation. She pointed to the corridor on Tasha’s right. “Her secretary’s office is the first one on the left.”

      Tasha forced a smile. “Thank you.”

      She passed a couple of people in the corridor, both male and wearing suits. Colby Agency investigators, Tasha presumed. Each one surveyed her thoroughly before moving on. She wanted to scream, “Doesn’t anyone suspect anything is wrong here?” But she only smiled stiffly.

      “Good afternoon. You have a delivery?” This from a pleasant-looking middle-aged lady whose name plate read, Mildred Parker.

      “Yes, for Victoria Colby.”

      “Well, generally the receptionist would sign for any packages,” she offered kindly.

      Tasha glanced at the clipboard. “The sender requested that Ms. Colby sign for the package personally.”

      “Very well.”

      The secretary stood and moved toward the door on the other side of the room. Tasha followed. The older woman knocked once and pushed it open.

      “Victoria, there’s a special delivery for you. This young lady needs you to sign for it.”

      Mildred opened the door wider and stepped to one side for Tasha to enter.

      Her pulse racing, Tasha met the dark gaze focused on her from the other side of the massive mahogany desk. So this was Victoria Colby. She looked every bit as dignified and sophisticated as Tasha had expected.

      What she hadn’t expected was the incredible complacency where security was concerned. Wasn’t Lucas supposed to have men watching her? Forcing her feet into action, Tasha moved across the room.

      Victoria Colby reached for the clipboard Tasha offered. “Good afternoon,” she said with a smile.

      Tasha forced an answering smile and nodded.

      Victoria signed the clipboard and passed it back to her, her open hand waiting for the package.

      As she slowly extended the package toward the woman, Tasha tried to warn her with her eyes...tried to make her see that something was wrong.

      If Victoria noticed, she didn’t show it.

      “Thank you,” she said as she settled the package on her desk.

      Tasha managed a stiff “Have a nice day” and left. She punched the down button at the elevator and fought the need to tell someone that this was all wrong. A part of her braced for the sound of an explosion or for a scream of agony.

      When the elevator doors finally slid open, what felt like a lifetime later, Tasha drew up short when a tall, dark-haired man moved to exit the arriving car. He paused and looked directly into her eyes for two beats. She prayed he would see the warning there. When he at last moved past her he allowed his hand to brush hers.

      The rush of relief was so profound that she scarcely stepped forward quickly enough to catch the elevator before the doors closed.

      Whoever the guy was he had to be one of Lucas’s men. The look he’d given her was one of assurance, the physical contact a sign that he understood something was wrong. Maverick had gotten word to Lucas.

      She stabbed the button for the lobby and sagged against the closest wall. Taking long, deep breaths she calmed her racing heart and slowed her frantic respiration.

      When she reached the SUV, Seth didn’t ask any questions, just drove away once she’d climbed inside.

      The silence that hung in the air ignited a fury in her belly. By the time he pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building her temper had raged out of control.

      “I want to know what was in that package.” She turned on him, glared at him with all the anger she felt inside.

      He didn’t even bother taking off his sunglasses or looking her way, he simply offered her a wad of cash.

      She almost told him where he could shove the money, but that would be out of character for the role she played. Instead, she snatched it from him, startled to note that it was five one-hundred-dollar bills.

      “You can dispose of the uniform.”

      She grabbed her purse, shoved the money into it before slinging it over her shoulder. She started to get out, but hesitated, then shook her head. No way was he getting off this easy.

      “I don’t like being used,” she told him. “If that package was dangerous and that lady—”

      “There was nothing in the package that could physically harm anyone. It was merely a message...a reminder.”

      She closed her eyes for one second as another blast of relief hit her.

      “Get out.”

      Renewed fury obliterated all other emotion. “You’re unbelievable. You come to me for a favor, then you treat me like a piece of trash you can toss away.”

      He remained silent, motionless, seemingly oblivious of her heated emotions.

      In a lightning-flash move, she snatched off his sunglasses and glared at him. “You really are—”

      Before she could finish the statement, he’d jerked