My dad sputtered, “Kai, that’s impossible. Please, you have to tell them I can’t have it ready by then. Make them understand—”
Kai laughed and the sound was magnetic, as if his voice alone could kidnap you and make you do anything he asked. “Your misconception of the situation is rather amusing, Dr. Westbrook.” He pushed away from the counter. “Have a shipment of the drug ready within the week.”
I swallowed as his gaze turned toward the closet again and I leaned back further into the shadows, only able to catch a glimpse of the side of his face. My heart thudded so loud I swore he had to hear it.
“Walk out with me, Doctor.” He moved out of sight and I nearly collapsed to the floor as every muscle relaxed and the trembling took over. Okay, he wouldn’t hurt my dad, at least for now, and we could call the police and they’d deal with him. “You have a beautiful daughter by the way.”
My head smacked into the wall. Oh, God, he had seen me. But how did he know I was Dr. Westbrook’s daughter?
“Don’t you dare touch her,” my dad shouted.
My father never raised his voice in anger, he rarely became angry. He’d claimed the emotion was weak and failed to accomplish more than acting irrational.
Kai’s voice lowered. “If this goes wrong, it won’t be me touching her… unfortunately.”
My breath hitched.
I heard the automatic door glide across with a hiss then close again.
I collapsed against the wall then slowly slid down until my butt hit the hard linoleum floor. His words repeated over and over in my head. ‘It won’t be me touching her… unfortunately.’
I waited five minutes for my father to come back, but he didn’t, so I grabbed my cell and my purse with the sliced strap and left the lab.
As I passed familiar faces in the building, I asked if anyone had seen my father. No one had and my fear intensified with each rushed step out to my car.
I searched the parking lot for his silver Mercedes, but it wasn’t in the usual spot. Did he go home? Please, let him have gone home. I jogged the rest of the way to my car, dialing my dad’s cell for the fifth time, but it kept going straight to voice mail.
Dad, come on, pick up. But it was usual for him to have his phone off. That was why if I ever needed him, I just came straight to his lab because he was always here.
I lowered my phone and pressed unlock on the doors of my car. I glanced at my hand and saw the trembling. I was normally steady and calm like my dad, but there was none of that in me at that moment. I felt like a slow-burning firecracker ready to burst into sparks of emotions.
I jumped in the car and shut the door, tossing my purse and cell on the passenger seat, then leaned my forehead against the steering wheel as I tried to get back some of the calm that had been smothered by that man’s haunting image.
I was good at figuring things out, connecting puzzle pieces, but none of this made sense. How could my dad be working on something for years and never say anything? Why would he work with a man like Kai?
I stiffened and froze as the hairs on the back of my neck rose like little warning soldiers and my heart skipped a beat.
Oh, God.
That scent. It was in my car. Him.
I slowly inched my hand toward the door handle.
“Not a smart idea,” he drawled. “And I know you’re a smart girl, London.”
I jerked into action, diving for the handle with both hands, but his knife was under my chin before it unlatched. The emerging scream locked in my throat as I stilled, breathing harsh, chest rising and falling rapidly as I waited for the slice of the blade across my jugular.
“Start the car and drive nice and easy out of the parking lot.”
The knife left my throat and I glanced in the rear-view mirror as he leaned back against the seat looking as if he were going for a ride to the grocery store. He didn’t appear angry, merely annoyed at this inconvenience with his lowered brows and lips lightly pressed together.
I started the car and let it idle for a second as my brain calculated my options.
“Seatbelt, my dear,” he said.
‘Never let them take you to a second location’ kept repeating in my head.
I reached over my shoulder and pulled the strap across my body. I pretended to fumble with the clip and tilted my head slightly to see if he was watching me. The bastard was texting. Texting. As if he were making dinner arrangements or chatting with a friend about the ball game.