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drop, not for one second. This man looked just as dangerous as any of Gerald’s minions. More dangerous, even. He was perfectly able to repress those macho mess-with-me-and-you’re-dead-meat vibes all of Gerald’s men had, including Gerald himself.
    This man was just as big and strong as the biggest and baddest of Gerald’s men. And he’d been a Special Forces soldier. Ellen had read the thumbnail bios of all three partners in RBK at an Internet café, waiting for her appointment. She was going to place her life in the company’s hands and she wanted to know what she was dealing with. So this Harry Bolt had been a Special Forces soldier and was way on top of the toughness scale, but his vibe was…calm. Serene.
    Her intense anxiety went down half a notch.
    They looked at each other, dead silence in the room.
    Ellen was running possible openings through her mind when he said, voice still calm, “But you do have an enemy.”
    She nodded her head jerkily.
    Oh God, this was so hard .
    “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” he suggested.
    She drew in a deep breath. Beginning. Okay.
    “I, um. I’m an accountant. A CPA.” She thought about it, about the smoking ruins of her existence. “Or was. In another life.”
     

 

     
     

Chapter 3
     

 

     
     

     
      She’s scared shitless, Harry thought. Words wouldn’t reassure her, so he did the only thing he could do—stay still and let her open up to him. Exactly as you’d do with a frightened, wounded animal.
    Was she wounded? Harry made sure not to move his eyes below her neck, but he had exceptionally good sight and peripheral vision. No broken bones visible, no casts, no bandages. No black eyes, but rather red-rimmed ones.
    It was a good thing Harry couldn’t see any visible damage, because he didn’t know if he could have kept so still if she’d been covered in bruises.
    It never failed to drive him crazy, how some men could hurt women and children. He had no idea how they could do it, but they did. He’d seen it all—snapped arms, dislocated jaws, black, swollen eyes, pulped spleens…
    It was always horrific, but on this woman…bile rose in his throat at the thought of violence to her. She was slender, delicate, with the fair, creamy skin of a redhead that should never carry any kind of bruise, let alone one caused by violence.
    She didn’t have any internal injuries, because she’d moved gracefully and swiftly as she entered the room, as if forcing herself into it. Not allowing herself to back away.
    If she’d been punched where it wouldn’t show, she’d be moving slowly, carefully. Some women had to breathe very shallowly because someone had cracked or broken a rib. He’d seen a lot of that.
    “How can we help you?” he asked, though he knew the answer. By taking her away from the bad guys.
    She finally pulled in a deep breath. “Like I said, I was an accountant, a CPA, and a good one.”
    A note of pride entered her voice and inside Harry rejoiced. She hadn’t been beaten down to the ground. Not yet. And now that she was here, not ever again. He’d personally see to that.
    “I’m sure you were, Ms. Charles,” he answered softly.
    Her eyes flickered, because that clearly wasn’t her name. Man, she was a lousy liar. Personally, Harry could lie like a pro. He could say to anyone that his name was Rumpelstiltskin and never bat an eyelid.
    “Yes, um.” She clutched her backpack with white-knuckled intensity. “I found a really good job just out of college, with a—a large company headquartered about thirty miles from Savannah. A company that had dealings abroad. It was challenging, but exciting.”
    She stopped, watching him. Harry simply breathed, kept his face neutral. She was going to tell this in her own good time.
    She looked to the side and winced. “I was actually put in charge of the accounts department. Immediately. Which was a really big deal for someone just out of college with a brand-new degree and the ink barely