Contract Bride. Debra Webb
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Several tense seconds ticked by while Victoria weighed his words. Caution was her first line of defense. “All right,” she said, finally relenting. “But if your past with Crane gets in the way, I expect you to bow out gracefully.”
“That’s reasonable,” he allowed. “What do you want me to do?” The girl sounded like she needed help, and things could definitely get sticky whether Crane was involved or not. Ethan would have to evaluate the situation closely before coming to any kind of conclusions. The reputation of a pharmaceuticals company was fragile. One wrong move and years of research, not to mention millions of dollars, could end up down the drain. New, badly needed drugs could be delayed in reaching those who needed them now.
“She’s given me the name of a motel in Kankakee, a small town about fifty miles south of Chicago. I want you to talk to her. Determine if there’s any possibility that her claims are valid.”
“And if they aren’t?” Ethan had to know what was expected of him if the girl had gone around the bend.
“Check out her story and if it’s clear to you that she’s unstable, then somehow we’ll have Dr. Melbourne take a look at her before we do anything else. I don’t want to risk bad press unnecessarily. With Austin’s illness already a matter of public knowledge, this sort of thing could ruin all that he’s worked for.”
“What if she doesn’t want to see Melbourne?” Ethan remembered the doc well from his prehiring interviews. The guy was a genius himself. If there was anything even slightly off-kilter, he’d find it. Melbourne was good—the best.
“Well, then we’ll just have to find a way to convince her.” Victoria looked him straight in the eye. “Discounting what you’ve just told me about your past with Crane, I chose you for this mission for two reasons, Ethan.”
He held that all-knowing gaze and waited for her to continue.
“If there is any truth to her accusations, I want her protected at all costs. I won’t take any chances with Austin’s daughter. Secondly, your powers of persuasion where the ladies are concerned have not gone unnoticed. I’m certain you can convince Miss Ballard to see things your way.”
Ethan grinned. “I’ll do my best.”
“I’m sure you will.” Victoria leaned forward and handed him a folded piece of paper. “That’s the location. I’m to call her at the number she left and let her know whom to expect. She would like to meet with you at one o’clock this afternoon. Does that give you time to prepare?”
“I can handle it.” It was nine a.m. He’d have plenty of time to go by his apartment and pick up a few things just in case this assignment took more than twenty-four hours. He tucked the note into his pocket. “I’ll call you the moment I have anything to report.”
“Very good.”
Ethan headed to the door, mentally making a list of what he would need.
“Just one more thing,” Victoria called behind him.
He paused at the door and looked back. “Yeah?”
“Since I don’t know Jennifer personally, there’s always the chance that this young woman is an impostor attempting to cause trouble for BalPhar. Maybe a disgruntled ex-employee seeking revenge. She could be a threat to security.”
“That’s possible,” Ethan agreed.
“Whatever you discover, do not let this woman out of your sight. If she’s Jennifer Ballard, I want her protected. If she’s not, I want to ensure she represents no threat to the real Jennifer. We’ll need to inform BalPhar security as soon as there are any firm facts.”
“I won’t let anything happen to her either way.”
Ethan left Victoria’s office with uneasiness twisting in his gut. Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right. Victoria felt it, too, that was the reason for the extra precautions. A dread, at once familiar and disconcerting, filtered through him. He’d been in this kind of situation where there were far too many variables once before. That situation had ended badly and almost cost him his life.
He wouldn’t let his guard down this time. No matter how sweet or innocent Jennifer Ballard appeared, she was not to be trusted until he was absolutely certain it was safe to do so.
She would have to prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was telling the truth.
BY TWELVE-THIRTY Ethan parked in front of the office at the Blue Moon Motel on the outskirts of Kankakee. It was a quaint joint to say the least. It reminded him of the kind of place hookers took their johns. If the esteemed Dr. Ballard had been looking for a low profile, she’d found it in a big way.
Ethan emerged cautiously from his vehicle. As he repositioned the gun at the small of his back, he surveyed the empty parking area as well as the row of vacant-looking, rundown rooms on either side of the office. The sign proclaiming Vacancies hung at an odd angle near the door. Faded blue paint was cracked and peeling from the antiquated wood siding. It was a real dump.
Still scanning warily, Ethan walked up the steps and across the small porch that led to the office. The July humidity was sweltering. Inside, the office proved no cooler. A small oscillating fan kept the fetid air moving, but did nothing to cool the temperature.
A short, bald man with a cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth dragged his attention from the soap opera he was watching on the small television set. “Can I help you?” he asked with absolute disinterest. He didn’t even bother to rise from his dilapidated chair.
Ethan narrowed his gaze and set his lips in a grim line, a practiced move that boasted of the impatience radiating behind the expression and should serve to motivate the listless clerk. “I certainly hope so.”
The guy appeared startled then. He shot to his feet. It was almost as if he’d looked at Ethan for the first time and noted what could only be called trouble. Ethan knew he presented a somewhat dangerous persona, and that was fine by him, especially at times like this. It allowed for a certain ease in getting what he wanted. He could well imagine what the guy behind the scarred counter thought at the moment. Ethan’s shoulder-length hair was tied back in a queue. A small silver hoop embellished one ear. But it was his size more than anything else that served as the most persuasive. He was six-four and weighed a muscular 220 pounds. Not too many people willingly messed with him. And that’s the way he liked it.
If the now-flustered clerk didn’t stop gaping Ethan was pretty sure the lit cancer stick was going to fall right out of his mouth.
“I need a room. My name is Ethan Delaney. I hope I don’t need a reservation.” He said the last a bit facetiously.
Clenching his lips together to grip the cigarette, the guy shook his head, then abruptly changed it to a nod. “You…you already have a room,” he stammered. He grabbed a key. “One fourteen.” He angled his head to his left. “All the way at the end.”
Ethan wasn’t surprised. Dr. Jennifer Ballard, if that was who she really was, was supposed to be waiting for him. She certainly wouldn’t risk using her real name if she was in hiding. He supposed that was the reason she’d used his.
“Thank you,” he said as he reached for the key.
The man behind the counter swallowed hard as he dropped the key into Ethan’s hand. “Just…just let me know if you need anything else.”
“Just one thing,” Ethan said pointedly.
The guy jumped. “Yeah?”
Ethan dropped a couple of bills on the counter. “I haven’t been here, got it?”
The clerk’s head bobbed up and down as he pocketed the money. “Never saw you.”
Ethan smiled, something several degrees shy of pleasant. “Good.”
As the clerk said, room 114 was all the way at the end. The six rooms