Page 69 of Trap ’N’ Trace

Kat picked up the agenda and smoothly flipped to the next page. “What’s next?”

For the next two hours, Dayne read emails and texted, keeping one ear on the conversation. Remy’s ears occasionally flicked, but eventually she fell into a light sleep.

His first text was to Bart Danchuk, requesting he cross-check Becca’s case files for the Sylvus Corporate Center address in Englewood. Minutes later, he received a response from Bart. Negative.

Paulson had forwarded copies of the subpoenas served on Becca’s cell phone carrier and her email server. Dayne was particularly interested in the subpoena for subscriber information on the unlisted number the techies found in the trap ’n’ trace app. The only other thing of note in the emails was that Jonathan Bale was still in the wind.

By the time the meeting concluded, Dayne was certain of one thing. Kat was a killer in a boardroom.

When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, they were met by several men in dark suits. Dayne pegged them for what they were. Building security. Vandenburg Enterprises’ version of Men in Black. Minus that nifty little memory-erasing gadget.

“Good morning, Tim.” Kat smiled at the one wearing a nametag that said Taggert. “Are they here?”

“Right on schedule.” Taggert nodded to the revolving doors leading to the street, behind which stood a crowd of men and women holding microphones and cameras. “We have two men outside, and we’ll escort you to your car.”

She started for the door but Dayne blocked her path, pressing his lips together to keep from exploding. “Do you mean to tell me you expected this?”

Hairs on the back of Remy’s neck rose as she picked up on the tension traveling down his arm, through the leash, directly to his K-9.

“Please give us a moment, Tim.” Taggert dipped his head briefly, and she waited for him and the other guards to walk out of earshot. “The press knows we hold our charity board meetings on the fourth Monday of every month.”

He tried not to grind his teeth. Un-fucking-believable. “Don’t you think you should have warned me about this? I could have made other arrangements. You wait inside while I drive around to the back entrance.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort.” She jutted out her chin. “I’ll be going straight out the front door.”

“It’s not safe,” he shot back. “Anyone could be in that crowd. I’ll never see it coming, and neither will your Men in Black. I can’t protect you this way.”

“The media is a necessary evil.”

“How is allowing these vultures to harass you necessary?”

“Every charity needs publicity, but most don’t have the financial means to pay for it. This is free publicity, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that. Plus,” she added, looking guilty as hell about something, “the vultures and I have a deal.”

He tightened his fingers around Remy’s leash. “What deal?”

“When I’m in the city, which isn’t often, I’ll talk to them, answer their questions. But the Haven and the castle are my sanctuaries. That’s why they don’t show up there.” He had, in fact, wondered about that, but had considered it a gift from the gods.

“So you knew this was going to happen and you intentionally kept me in the dark.” Knowing he’d go ballistic, like he was trying not to do right now.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I knew you’d go all Neanderthal on me and never allow it.”

Neanderthal? Well, didn’t that just put him in his place?

He stepped closer. “You’ve got five minutes. Not a second longer.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes softened. “I know you’re only doing your job.”

When she looked at him that way, all soft and sweet, most of his frustration diffused. “And you’re making it very difficult.” In more ways than one.

Despite their self-imposed resolutions and distancing efforts, his professionalism still teetered on the verge of self-destruction. If only he didn’t know what it was like to hold her in his arms and kiss her while she— The memory was far too vivid.

“I’ll go first. Stay close to me.” He led the way to the doors and stepped outside. The minute the reporters caught sight of her they converged like a pack of wild animals. Cameras clicked. Microphones were shoved in her face.

Remy lowered her head and uttered a growl. Dayne wrapped her leash twice more around his hand. His dog didn’t like this anymore than he did. As highly trained as Remy was, his K-9 would take the press’s aggressive behavior as an attack. “Easy, girl.”

“Katrina! Katrina!” Ten reporters vied for her attention.

“What was it like to find a dead body?”