when he veered over onto the shoulder, then apparently overcorrected and slammed into a car in the next lane. His friends said later he’d gone thirty-six hours without sleep. Countless accidents were caused by irresponsible drivers who…
Her head nodded forward. She took a deep breath, slowed her speed, flexed her hands. She should have given herself more time, should’ve asked for an extra day to get here, but no, good ol’ tough Karah Lee could do anything. She’d been accused by co-workers of having the stamina, pain tolerance and size of a redwood tree. At times, she was proud of the comparison. Other times, it made her feel lonelier. Few people took the time to venture past the facade of indomitable redhead and get to know the real Karah Lee Fletcher.
Monster, given to Karah Lee by a colleague recently engaged to a cat hater, wasn’t exactly what she had in mind as a lifelong companion. In fact, they barely knew each other, and the relationship wasn’t improving with time. When she complained about him at work, however, the staff teased that Monster sounded a lot like his new owner.
She was not amused.
The road blurred. She could not keep her eyes open. She desperately needed sleep.
Maybe if she just pulled over to the side of the road for a short nap…but experience had taught her that if she allowed herself to close her eyes for a few moments, it would take a loud beeper in her ear to bring her out of it before morning. Just a few more miles, and—
A shadow separated itself from the darkness of the trees, followed by another shadow and another, into the glow of her headlights, barely twenty feet from her front bumper. She slammed on the brakes and swerved as three deer darted back and forth over the road in confusion. The tires of Karah Lee’s car skidded into the brush at the edge of the shoulder, and she couldn’t prevent the slide, couldn’t veer from the tree that came at her with sickening swiftness.
The impact thrust her forward, but her seat belt grabbed and held. The crash stunned her. She sat in horrified aftershock.
Monster yowled and scratched at the pet taxi with frantic cries, but Karah Lee sat frozen. Suddenly, she realized that she did not have the stamina, or the pain tolerance, of a redwood.
She fainted.
Chapter Two
Fawn stepped from the elevator on the seventh floor, heart still pounding, hands shaking harder than they had been when she left. She reached into her money-stuffed purse for the key card. Would he be here?
It wasn’t as if she’d never been dumped before. It had happened twice in the past few months, but each time it had been harder to return to other kinds of work. And here she was in Branson, Missouri. She didn’t even know these streets, and she had a strange feeling she wouldn’t be able to do as much business here, even if she could force herself to do that business again.
But what else could she do?
The card slid into the silent-lock mechanism, and to her relief the door opened at the slightest pressure of her hand. Hearing Bruce’s voice, she broke out with a sweat of relief. He was still here.
“Vincent didn’t have the guts to come and talk to me himself,” she heard him say from the other room, “so he sent you.”
She stopped in the doorway and frowned as she caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man in an expensive-looking dark gray suit. His back was to her, and Bruce stood facing her, the shadow of his big body outlined in the neon lights that flashed into the room through the lanai windows. He didn’t even glance toward her when she entered.
“He doesn’t like associating with traitors” came the visitor’s voice, which was rougher than Bruce’s deep bass.
Fawn grabbed the door to keep it from shutting and disturbing the men. Bruce wasn’t finished with his business. She’d come back too soon. She was about to turn around and leave without saying anything, when Bruce spoke again.
“I’d only be a traitor if I allowed my clients to pour their money down the drain with bad deals.”
“It doesn’t have to be a bad deal,” Gray Suit grumbled. “You tell your clients to leave their money where it is for six more months, and you can guarantee seventy percent return on their investment. They won’t want to pass that up.”
“Vincent can’t guarantee that, Harv, and you know it. How many dupes are you going to find to buy a worthless space of air over Hideaway? The condominium isn’t even built yet.”
“Construction’s already begun.”
Fawn saw the anger spill over Bruce’s face. “How can that be?”
Harv gave a low grunt of laughter. “You’re not the only man who can be bought. I’ve got good information that says you’re carrying a vital report around in your pocket. You don’t have any business with that inspection report, and Vincent wants it back.”
“It’s not on me,” Bruce said.
Out in the hallway behind Fawn came the sound of the penthouse elevator doors opening and dishes rattling, probably a meal on a room-service cart. Harv half turned at the sound, until Fawn could see the outline of his long, heavy-boned face, with thick jawline and overgrown, black eyebrows. He looked really edgy, and the fingers of his right hand tensed, muscles flexing beneath his suit.
Bruce caught Fawn’s gaze, frowning hard at her and jerking his head toward the door in an unmistakable command for her to leave. “Harv, this whole mess is going to come down on Vincent’s head, and I don’t want to be here when it happens. I’m not getting blamed for his stupid decision.”
Harv returned his attention to Bruce. “Then what are you doing here? You didn’t fly all the way here just to give Vincent the brush-off. You could’ve done that on the phone.”
“I didn’t—”
“You’ve got contacts here.” Suspicion laced the man’s voice.
“I wanted to see some of the shows, check out the—”
“I know what kinds of shows you like, and they aren’t these country-music comedy shows.”
“Vincent sent you here to do his dirty work, didn’t he?” Bruce asked. “He doesn’t care about a bunch of strangers in Hideaway as long as he can make his money and get out before tragedy strikes. Don’t you care that lives could be at stake?”
“Since when did you care about other people?”
As if against his will, Bruce’s gaze gave an imperceptible flick toward Fawn, then he looked back at Harv.
Harv’s shoulders stiffened. He started to turn, reaching beneath his suit jacket.
“No!” Bruce shouted. “Princess!”
A deadly-looking pistol with silencer seemed embedded in Harv’s hand as he drew it from his pocket. He aimed at Fawn and squeezed the trigger as she ducked at Bruce’s command.
The doorpost beside her splintered. “Bruce!”
“Run, Princess!” Bruce shouted, charging the man. “Get out now! Hurry!” He was still six feet from his target when the man swung back, aimed,
