Evidently, someone determined it should be and he doubted it was Max.
“It turns out that your project is the premier of several Welson trials. All share similar key components, each building on the previous initiative. When you conclude the tests, you’ll get your choice of the next project. The money and options should more than make up for keeping tabs on doctors.”
Scrutinizing Max’s expression, Jason fought to keep his own reaction locked down. “This trial is fairly straightforward and I’m not aware of any of the doctors displaying subversive tendencies.”
“Don’t take me so seriously.” Max leaned forward with a laugh. “You’re going to need a vacation.”
“You’ve hit the nail there.”
“Once this is over you can take a few weeks, get away with someone fun and adventurous, and leave this all behind.”
A subtle dig again? Maybe not, Max didn’t used to be subtle. So what was the message? Because it sounded like he was either asking him to become a watchdog or warning him off Briet Hyden.
Max looked over the paperwork on the desk. “You set for the presentation?”
“Video’s ready, talking points are established, and I’ve called several of the major shareholders to make sure they’ll be in attendance.”
“Good. If Hyden and the others show up for the reception, there’ll be enough people there to handle them all.”
No, not subtle. It definitely felt like a warning.
“I think the shareholders will be pleasantly surprised.”
“Never doubted it.” Max moved to the door. “See you tomorrow night.”
CHAPTER 10
Jason met her in the hotel lobby with one of the oldest human males Briet had ever seen. How Danforth Brockmeyer even managed to walk from his limo to the second floor lobby and back out was beyond her. Though he had been a gentleman—sort of.
“I think he made a pass at me.”
Jason laughed. “You think? He offered to set you up in private practice if you’d go away for the weekend with him.”
“He was kidding, wasn’t he?” Briet swallowed hard.
“I’m sure he wanted a weekend getaway with you, though he’d have spent the whole time on oxygen. He has more than enough money to follow through on his offer. He’s giving generously to the family housing fund.”
Really?
She gave a quick look over her shoulder, but the limo had already rolled away.
“If it’s any comfort, I wouldn’t have let him take you.” He opened the double doors to the reception and ushered her in. With a hand to the small of her back, he steered her toward a group of four men and two women. The introduction didn’t make it past his lips before his boss pulled him away.
“Dr. Hyden, your history precedes you.” A distinguished looking man with burnished white hair and a European accent held out his hand. “Baker Stemack, legal counsel for the Welson project.” He shrugged. “Welson in general. This is Hauer Gault, our CEO.”
Gault, shorter than Stemack and with an angular face, briefly touched her fingers and offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hawkish nose projected an image of cruelty. No, more a predatory mask. Either way, Briet felt a cold chill at his touch, one she doubted had any link to his looks.
“A pleasure to put a face with a name, Dr. Hyden.”
Baker motioned to the next man. “David Auster is one of our oldest shareholders.”
“Oldest shares, not oldest holder. You’re going to overwhelm the poor doctor. Please, Dr. Hyden, let me take you to get something to drink.” David Auster grasped her hand before Baker even let go and led her with surprising vigor away from the executive crowd. Bless the man.
Despite his comment, she presumed he was only slightly younger than the centenarian who had propositioned her in the lobby. Not a day under eighty if she had to guess.
“Rather overwhelming, isn’t it?” Auster leaned closer so she could hear.
“I’m not sure what I expected, but yes.” Briet leaned closer too, as the volume of voices and music started to make conversation difficult.
“I hope you don’t mind my taking you away. You looked rather dazed.”
“I'm in your debt.” She winced as someone pushed behind her in the growing crowd. “Mr. Gault puts on quite a show for his company’s investors.”
David swept a calculated look across the crowd and slid his arm over her shoulder. “This isn’t Gault’s company. He runs the show, but his partners hold the majority interest. Welson is one of several companies they influence under a larger umbrella.”
Briet wasn’t sure what to make of Auster’s delivery. He seemed to feel the information was important and, for some reason, believed she should as well. But not able to pursue the thought in their present surroundings, she opted for something more mundane. “Is this typical for a shareholder reception?”
She had expected a small group, but in the thirty minutes she'd been present the crowd had expanded by several hundred people. Spouses and guests combined with entertainers and waiters, creating a formidable group and a thick wall of people.
“For some reason, Gault is out to impress tonight.”
Large crowds were something she usually avoided, especially when she lacked the backup of her brother or the other Guardians. It was too difficult to detect and ward off a potential threat. For the first time in years, she felt uncomfortable, vulnerable.
“I suspect your young man will be back soon. Here, would you like some champagne?” David snagged two glasses from a passing waiter’s tray. Very nimble for a man his age, he accompanied the delivery of the flute with an incorrigible wink.
“He’s not mine.”
She’d muttered the words, but Auster smiled and shook his head. “My dear, I may be old but I’m no fool. I watched him escort you in and present you. He’s yours. Would rather suspect you’re his as well, for I find him to be very persuasive in obtaining what he wants. He talked me into a million dollar grant to support parent housing for the hospital.”
Before Briet could respond, another gentleman garnered David’s attention, pulling him away to talk. The crowd swallowed them.
Gripping the stem of her glass, she tried to sense for any malicious presence in the throng of people. The din of voices was too loud and the vibration of music, too strong. Fighting her rising crush of panic, she looked for the doorway. No exit was visible beyond the heads and shoulders in her immediate way.
The hand at her waist made her jump, then Jason’s voice infused calm along the frayed edges of her nerves. “This has turned into a mad house. I’m so sorry. Max didn’t tell me they’d planned a gala instead of a reception. I wouldn’t have—”
“I think maybe—” She caught his gaze as a hand clasped his upper arm and pulled him back from her into an embrace. A heavily perfumed, female embrace.
“Jason. What a surprise. I’m so glad to see you here.” The woman’s arms, draped around Jason’s neck, forced his head intimately closer to her ear. Layers of long red hair matched the lack of taste in the limited bit of clothing that comprised her dress. Barely covered ample bosoms pressed into Jason’s chest as the woman’s hips closed on his in full body contact.
Briet had seen less contact on the Wide World of Wrestling, not that she watched unless Ansgar was around. She sipped her champagne to force back the bile rising in her throat. The woman cast a quick glance her way and just as quickly discounted her presence.
To be fair, Jason tried.
“Samantha.” His hands disengaged the woman from his neck. “It has been a
long
time.”
“How about we leave and catch up?” Like a python, the woman turned her hands to clasp Jason’s arms and angled to pull them around her.
He stopped her and succeeded in keeping her at half an arm’s length.
“Jason.” Another high-pitched feminine voice rang through the noise. Briet watched a second woman try the octopus move.
No. Briet refused to stomach any more. No amount of patience on earth could withstand this. How could she possibly mate with such a pheromone beacon? Logic told her he didn’t want these women’s attentions, and a tiny voice nagged that they were women from his past. But his past might target his inclinations for the future.
Air. She needed air. Briet pushed away and proceeded in the general direction of the door she’d entered seemingly hours ago. After two changes in course, she finally broke free of the room, which was clearly in violation of every regulation in the fire code. She headed for the large staircase connecting to the lobby floor and the hotel exit.
Five feet from the stairway a hand grabbed her arm.
“Jason, I don’t think—”
It wasn’t Jason. This man only had a couple of inches on her, but the cold, hard look in his black eyes and the iron grip he had on her arm told her he was a clear and deadly threat. It would take more than her training to get away from him.
“You're not leaving so soon?” He dragged her back. Both his hands dug painfully into her upper arms and pressed her before him, even as she tried to plant her heels into the carpet. She picked up her feet, hoping to upset his balance. In response, he hoisted her against his chest and succeeded in moving her twenty feet toward the side door of the gala. The music boomed from inside.
“No one will even hear you scream.” His hot breath brushed across her ear.
She grabbed at a side table as he brushed by. The jolt was enough to stop his progress as she tried to wrench one of her arms free.
“Let go of me.” Her effort to scream was useless. He was right. She could hardly hear herself. Struggling wasn’t helping either, only exerting more of her energy and none of his.
He’d moved them two more feet, despite her fight against him.
“The lady said to let her go.” An arm circled around her waist and wrenched her from the man’s hold as a fist shot over her shoulder into her assailants jaw.
Jason shoved her behind him, prepared to take on her attacker. The man stumbled back through the doorway, ducking into the crowd of people flowing out past them.
No one inside even seemed to notice the altercation.
Jason’s eyes narrowed to catch a glimpse of the man. Then he spun around only to find Briet gone. Again.
“Damn it.”
Halfway to the lobby exit he caught up with her.
“Briet, stop.” Reluctant to grab her but not willing to let her leave, he closed his fingers over her shoulder and turned her around. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
A glanced over her face and neck confirmed no visible signs of bruises.
“I’m fine. I’m going home.” Her face was white and her arm trembled under his hand. Yet, the expression on her face warred between defiance and panic.
“Briet, I’m so sorry. This should never have happened. We need to report this to the police.”
“No, I’m going home.” She repeated as she held her hands up and moved away from him.
The hurt was so stark in her eyes that he fought to keep from pulling her into his arms to reassure her. The last thing she needed was another mauling.
“Let me at least make sure you get home safe.”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you for…the evening.”
Gritting his teeth, he held out his hand to motion her to the door. “I
will
get you a cab.” He guided her through the people and waited with increasing frustration beside her as he hailed a cab and paid the man.
She didn’t speak a word, not even a thank you.
Her look of disgust when Samantha and Debbie had tackled him had said it all. The look of terror and desperation when the man had tried to abduct her felt like a blade through his chest. How could something like this have happened in an upscale hotel during a corporate function?
His intent was to present her to people who would see her intelligence and promise. Honestly, he’d hoped for an opportunity for more time with her away from their jobs and the stress of the hospital.
Instead, she’d endured a public frenzy and assault. Neither was by his hand, but he felt responsible just the same. How was he going to fix this?
A harsh, hostile voice nagged inside him.
Why should you bother?
He forced the voice back into the darkness where it belonged and opened the cab door.
Without a backward glance, Briet slid into the back seat and he closed the door.
The car drove the length of the hotel’s driveway and, as he watched, meshed with Boston rush hour traffic.
CHAPTER 11
Jason flashed his badge at the security guard in the lobby of the lab building and stalked to the elevators. His mood had deteriorated ever since he’d watched Briet’s cab pull away from the curb the night before and hadn’t improved with the new day.
The brushed steel doors slid open.
“Mr. Ballard. Sir?” The guard gave a frantic wave from behind his desk to get Jason to return.
He set his shoulders, checked his bad attitude, and headed back.
“I’ll ask him to meet them.” The guard’s distracted whisper and quick hand gestures to usher employees toward the elevators provoked irritation, and then concern as unease prickled across the back of Jason’s neck.
The guard leaned across the desk as the crowd dwindled to zero. “There’s an officer coming to see you.”
“As in police?” Jason raised an eyebrow.
“It’s about an accident. Last night.”
“What kind of accident?” He could think of no reason for police involvement, unless someone had broken into the lab facilities or Welson’s computer system—either way Jason wouldn’t be the point of contact.
The guard licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest, hunkering a bit. “After midnight. Totaled the car—killed the driver.” He glanced toward the revolving door of the rotunda behind Jason and back. “They think it’s one of the Welson project members.”
“Who?”
The guard shrugged. Evidently, he was not on the police’s need-to-know list. The revolving door swished several times. Two men in black overcoats walked across the rotunda, approaching the guard’s desk.
“Mr. Ballard?” The older of the two men nodded and held out his hand. “I’m Detective Frost, Homicide, and my partner,” he nodded to his companion, “Detective Horsten. Can we speak to you for a moment, in private?”