No Safe Place. Sherri Shackelford

could have walked away. She probably should have walked away. She couldn’t. The words of Mark 8:36 prevented her: For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

      “I don’t drink, either,” Corbin said. “Janice, Matt Shazier’s assistant, promised to sing karaoke. We can be the sober witnesses.”

      Matt was the company CEO, and she couldn’t imagine his buttoned-up assistant belting out a tune on a Friday night.

      “Sorry.” Trying to appear casual, Beth slid this afternoon’s department store purchase into her bag. Escaping the building for a little shopping this afternoon had been a welcome respite from constantly looking over her shoulder. “I have other plans.”

      Two years before, she’d noticed some odd transactions concerning Cayman Holdings on an account she was auditing for another company. Her mentor, Timothy Swan, had offered to review the files. After studying the case, he’d warned her against pursuing the matter further. He’d contacted the FBI, but Beth sensed he was frightened. They’d found his dead body a month later.

      The coroner had ruled the forensic accountant’s death a murder by poisoning. Not even the FBI had been able to protect Timothy. Which meant the sooner she disappeared, the better. Except Corbin’s tall frame and broad shoulders were currently blocking her exit.

      “Maybe we can meet tomorrow?” Corbin shrugged. “There’s a new coffee house on Fifth Street.”

      His words gradually penetrated the fog of her anxiety. She was a temporary contractor. Coworkers didn’t ask her out for drinks.

      She narrowed her gaze. Corbin was a new hire, and he’d been awfully curious about her work. Had he been sent to spy on her?

      “Like a date?” she asked.

      “Whatever you want to call it.”

      Adrenaline coursed through her veins. This was bad. This was very bad. Men like Corbin did not ask forensic accountants on dates unless they wanted something. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.

      Beth neatly sidestepped around him. “I’m b-busy tomorrow.”

      And for the foreseeable future. The message she’d sent was time-stamped for delivery on the Tuesday morning following Columbus Day. She had the three-day weekend to disappear before the FBI received the evidence. Three long days before the men who poisoned Timothy discovered they’d been exposed and started looking for her.

      She had no illusions about keeping her part in the whistle-blowing quiet. There was no way of turning over the evidence without tipping her hand.

      Corbin’s brow furrowed above the bridge of his glasses. “Is something wrong?”

      “Just anxious to start the weekend.”

      She spun on her heel and promptly struck the trash bin blocking the aisle. Stumbling, she scattered the contents of her shopping bag over the floor along with the papers from the trash bin.

      “Are you all right?” Corbin was by her side in an instant. “Let me help.”

      Rubbing her bruised shin, she frantically searched the deserted maze of cubicles. Where was the cleaning crew?

      “I’m fine.” Her cheeks heated. Even in a getaway, she was clumsy. “Just embarrassed.”

      They both crouched before the mess. Corbin sure was laying it on thick. His charm was clearly an affectation. Her first year out of graduate school, she’d fallen head over heels for the chief financial officer of the company she was auditing before she’d discovered his part in the fraud. He’d thought he could romance her away from turning over the evidence.

      Sixteen months in federal prison had corrected his thinking.

      Corbin shook his head. “Makes me crazy when people don’t recycle.”

      “Should be a crime,” Beth said, then cringed. If she didn’t get ahold of herself, she’d wind up zipped in a body bag with a toe tag marked murder by poisoning. “Or not.”

      As she stuffed the papers back into the bin, her heart thumped against her ribs. She grasped her shopping bag and checked the contents. Nothing broken. Considering the price she’d paid for the small makeup compact this afternoon, she was grateful it had survived. The cosmetics were a treat to herself as she embarked on her temporary new life.

      Her fingers brushed Corbin’s arm, and she recoiled. She caught a hint of his spicy aftershave and held her breath. She’d always been a sucker for aftershave.

      “Sorry,” she mumbled.

      “Not a problem.”

      What was wrong with her? She was Officer Greenwood’s daughter, not a frightened extra in a horror movie. Even if Corbin was involved, he wasn’t the person she needed to fear. As a cop’s daughter, she had certain instincts about people. He didn’t strike her as a cold-blooded killer.

      Straightening, she brushed at her pencil skirt and eyed the exit at the far end of the aisle. Why had she worn sling-backs today? Because today is just a normal day, she reminded herself. She wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary that might draw attention to herself. Proper planning meant peak performance.

      Clutching her leather bag against her chest, she backed away a few steps. “I’d better get going. Traffic.”

      “Let me walk you to your car.”

      “I’ll be fine. This building is full of security cameras.” She let the implication hang in the air between them. Every move she made left a cyber trail. Her gaze swung between the elevator door and the stairwell. She turned toward the stairs. “See you Monday.”

      “Tuesday,” Corbin corrected. “Don’t forget Monday is a federal holiday.”

      A flash of disappointment surprised her. She wouldn’t be seeing him after today. Better she was leaving now before he directed the full, potent appeal of those ice-blue eyes on her. There was something about Corbin that had her feeling like a giggling schoolgirl with her first crush.

      He adjusted his glasses on his nose. “I can’t believe we get Columbus Day off. Any big plans for the holiday weekend?”

      “Thought I’d organize my taxes.”

      “It’s October.”

      “I work on a fiscal year.” She cringed inwardly. “See you Tuesday.”

      “Enjoy your taxes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I can take a hint.”

      She opened and closed her mouth, then turned. If he was working for Cayman Holdings, he was an excellent undercover operative. If he was innocent, she’d just turned down her first chance at an actual date in over a year.

      Who was she kidding?

      He was up to something. There was no reason for him to zero in on her when Karli from marketing had been raising her hemlines and lowering her necklines since Corbin had taken up residence in the corner office.

      Beth paused. Should she take the stairs? Corbin always took the stairs. They both did; that’s how she knew his habits. Don’t deviate from the routine. She wasn’t any safer stuck with Corbin in the elevator than being alone with him in the stairwell. When she reached the end of the aisle, she glanced over her shoulder.

      Corbin had disappeared.

      A chill snaked down her spine. No one of his size should be able to disappear that quietly. Did they teach that sort of thing in Special Forces? Probably.

      A new coffee house on Fifth Street. She snorted softly. She wasn’t a complete fool.

      Her heart racing, she took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door to the parking garage. Only a couple other cars remained. Keeping her back straight and her gait purposeful, she crossed the distance.

      The sound of