Contract Bride

“And if they aren’t?” Ethan had to know what was expected of him if the girl had gone around the bend.

“Check out her story and if it’s clear to you that she’s unstable, then somehow we’ll have Dr. Melbourne take a look at her before we do anything else. I don’t want to risk bad press unnecessarily. With Austin’s illness already a matter of public knowledge, this sort of thing could ruin all that he’s worked for.”

“What if she doesn’t want to see Melbourne?” Ethan remembered the doc well from his prehiring interviews. The guy was a genius himself. If there was anything even slightly off-kilter, he’d find it. Melbourne was good—the best.

“Well, then we’ll just have to find a way to convince her.” Victoria looked him straight in the eye. “Discounting what you’ve just told me about your past with Crane, I chose you for this mission for two reasons, Ethan.”

He held that all-knowing gaze and waited for her to continue.

“If there is any truth to her accusations, I want her protected at all costs. I won’t take any chances with Austin’s daughter. Secondly, your powers of persuasion where the ladies are concerned have not gone unnoticed. I’m certain you can convince Miss Ballard to see things your way.”

Ethan grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will.” Victoria leaned forward and handed him a folded piece of paper. “That’s the location. I’m to call her at the number she left and let her know whom to expect. She would like to meet with you at one o’clock this afternoon. Does that give you time to prepare?”

“I can handle it.” It was nine a.m. He’d have plenty of time to go by his apartment and pick up a few things just in case this assignment took more than twenty-four hours. He tucked the note into his pocket. “I’ll call you the moment I have anything to report.”

“Very good.”

Ethan headed to the door, mentally making a list of what he would need.

“Just one more thing,” Victoria called behind him.

He paused at the door and looked back. “Yeah?”

“Since I don’t know Jennifer personally, there’s always the chance that this young woman is an impostor attempting to cause trouble for BalPhar. Maybe a disgruntled ex-employee seeking revenge. She could be a threat to security.”

“That’s possible,” Ethan agreed.

“Whatever you discover, do not let this woman out of your sight. If she’s Jennifer Ballard, I want her protected. If she’s not, I want to ensure she represents no threat to the real Jennifer. We’ll need to inform BalPhar security as soon as there are any firm facts.”

“I won’t let anything happen to her either way.”

Ethan left Victoria’s office with uneasiness twisting in his gut. Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right. Victoria felt it, too, that was the reason for the extra precautions. A dread, at once familiar and disconcerting, filtered through him. He’d been in this kind of situation where there were far too many variables once before. That situation had ended badly and almost cost him his life.

He wouldn’t let his guard down this time. No matter how sweet or innocent Jennifer Ballard appeared, she was not to be trusted until he was absolutely certain it was safe to do so.

She would have to prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was telling the truth.

BY TWELVE-THIRTY Ethan parked in front of the office at the Blue Moon Motel on the outskirts of Kankakee. It was a quaint joint to say the least. It reminded him of the kind of place hookers took their johns. If the esteemed Dr. Ballard had been looking for a low profile, she’d found it in a big way.

Ethan emerged cautiously from his vehicle. As he repositioned the gun at the small of his back, he surveyed the empty parking area as well as the row of vacant-looking, rundown rooms on either side of the office. The sign proclaiming Vacancies hung at an odd angle near the door. Faded blue paint was cracked and peeling from the antiquated wood siding. It was a real dump.

Still scanning warily, Ethan walked up the steps and across the small porch that led to the office. The July humidity was sweltering. Inside, the office proved no cooler. A small oscillating fan kept the fetid air moving, but did nothing to cool the temperature.

A short, bald man with a cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth dragged his attention from the soap opera he was watching on the small television set. “Can I help you?” he asked with absolute disinterest. He didn’t even bother to rise from his dilapidated chair.

Ethan narrowed his gaze and set his lips in a grim line, a practiced move that boasted of the impatience radiating behind the expression and should serve to motivate the listless clerk. “I certainly hope so.”

The guy appeared startled then. He shot to his feet. It was almost as if he’d looked at Ethan for the first time and noted what could only be called trouble. Ethan knew he presented a somewhat dangerous persona, and that was fine by him, especially at times like this. It allowed for a certain ease in getting what he wanted. He could well imagine what the guy behind the scarred counter thought at the moment. Ethan’s shoulder-length hair was tied back in a queue. A small silver hoop embellished one ear. But it was his size more than anything else that served as the most persuasive. He was six-four and weighed a muscular 220 pounds. Not too many people willingly messed with him. And that’s the way he liked it.

If the now-flustered clerk didn’t stop gaping Ethan was pretty sure the lit cancer stick was going to fall right out of his mouth.

“I need a room. My name is Ethan Delaney. I hope I don’t need a reservation.” He said the last a bit facetiously.

Clenching his lips together to grip the cigarette, the guy shook his head, then abruptly changed it to a nod. “You…you already have a room,” he stammered. He grabbed a key. “One fourteen.” He angled his head to his left. “All the way at the end.”

Ethan wasn’t surprised. Dr. Jennifer Ballard, if that was who she really was, was supposed to be waiting for him. She certainly wouldn’t risk using her real name if she was in hiding. He supposed that was the reason she’d used his.

“Thank you,” he said as he reached for the key.

The man behind the counter swallowed hard as he dropped the key into Ethan’s hand. “Just…just let me know if you need anything else.”

“Just one thing,” Ethan said pointedly.

The guy jumped. “Yeah?”

Ethan dropped a couple of bills on the counter. “I haven’t been here, got it?”

The clerk’s head bobbed up and down as he pocketed the money. “Never saw you.”

Ethan smiled, something several degrees shy of pleasant. “Good.”

As the clerk said, room 114 was all the way at the end. The six rooms before it appeared empty, just as Ethan had suspected when he arrived. He had no doubt that the seven rooms on the other side of the office were just as empty. Glancing from right to left once more, he reached for his gun and simultaneously shoved the key into the lock. He pushed open the door.

To his surprise it was dark inside, but blessedly cool. The drapes were pulled tight. He felt for the light switch but a distinctly feminine voice stopped him.

“Close the door first.”

Moving into defensive mode, Ethan closed the door behind him and tightened his fingers on the weapon.

“Now you can turn on the light.”

He flipped the switch, blinked once to focus, his gun leveled in the direction of the sound of her voice.

A woman who looked no older than seventeen or eighteen, clad in tattered hip-hugger jeans and a cut-off T-shirt stood on the opposite side of the room. She wasn’t very tall, five-two maybe, and waif-thin. Long blond hair, pale blue eyes, elfin features. Ethan couldn’t say for sure if she was Dr. Jennifer Ballard or not, but she definitely resembled the girl in the five-year-old photograph he’d seen. With one major exception—this woman was holding on tight with both hands to a small-caliber handgun, the barrel pointed at his chest.

“I need to see some identification, Mr. Delaney.” She moistened her lips and exhaled a shaky breath. “But first, I’ll need you to put your gun down.”

Chapter Two

Please, God, Jenn Ballard prayed, don’t let him realize this gun isn’t loaded.

“I said, put your gun down,” she repeated to the large, dangerous-looking man standing on the other side of a bed that would prove less than adequate as a protective barrier.

“I don’t think so,” he said quietly. “Why don’t you put yours away and then I’ll do the same.”

She trembled at the sound of his voice. Smooth but lethal. What should she do? She’d expected him to obey her command. They always did in the movies…the ones she watched anyway.

She had no other choice. Gritting her teeth for courage, she drew the hammer back, cocking the weapon just as she’d seen guys like Clint Eastwood do. The resounding click echoed loudly in the still room. “Put it down now,” she demanded with as much gravity as she could marshal. She sure hoped all those late-night movies she used to watch weren’t wrong.

The man, whom she prayed was really Ethan Delaney, stared at her for two endless seconds before he relented. She let go the breath she’d been holding when he placed his weapon on the bedspread. Thank God.

“Now, the ID,” she reminded.

“Just stay cool, lady.” He opened the left lapel of his lightweight leather jacket wide, showing her he had nothing to hide, and reached with his thumb and fore-finger into an interior pocket. His evaluating stare never left her as he produced a small black leather credentials case. He tossed it onto the bed still eyeing her speculatively. She knew how she looked, but she couldn’t help that. The ragged jeans and the midriff top were the best she could do under the circumstances. The fact that the getup was reasonably clean had been her only concern when she’d bartered for it. With her hair down instead of in its usual neat bun and sporting the funky clothes she doubted anyone would recognize her. Even her beloved fiancé.

Which was the whole point.

Never taking her eyes off the man looming a mere mattress width away, she reached for the case he’d tossed onto the bed. She flipped it open and glanced at the Colby Agency picture ID. Ethan Delaney. Thirty-four, six-four, 220 pounds. Brown hair and eyes. She looked back and forth between the ID and the man himself. The hair was really long, tied back in a ponytail, and the eyes an uncommonly dark coppery brown. Her throat went a little dry. A guy this size could definitely do some damage. Maybe she shouldn’t have begun their meeting in such an unfriendly, distrustful manner.

“Satisfied?” he asked pointedly.

Oh, yes. She’d definitely made a mistake. But what choice had she had?

None.

She nodded, then lowered her weapon. “Sorry about that, but you can’t imagine how frightened I’ve been.” Suddenly feeling too weary, she dropped both her gun and the ID case onto the bed. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He reached for his gun, tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, and snagged hers up next along with his ID. Once the ID was back in his pocket he checked her weapon.

The glare that followed was penetrating, fierce. “Did you know this weapon isn’t loaded?”

She collapsed onto the edge of the bed. She was too exhausted and too emotionally wiped out to explain fully. “Yes,” she admitted. “I didn’t have anything left to trade for bullets.”

That piercing gaze intensified. “Trade? What the hell are you talking about?”

She shrugged tiredly. “I had to make a run for it with no money or plastic. I met a guy in an alley near the bus station who traded me the gun for my Rolex. I’d already traded my engagement ring for a bus ticket out of Chicago and my shoes for these clothes and sneakers. I didn’t have anything left.”

“You are kidding, right?”

Indignant, she shook her head. “I didn’t have any choice.” What was the big deal? Though she couldn’t accurately assess the value of the engagement ring, it could have been as fake as her fiancé. The remainder of the items had been top of the line. The girl who got her shoes certainly got the better bargain. They were Guccis after all. The wedding dress a Vera Wang, but it had been ruined, and she’d had to cram it into a trash bin. The horrible memories she’d kept at bay for nearly 72 hours now spilled one over the other into her weary mind.

Her stomach roiled. There had been so much blood.

Uncle Russ was dead.

She blinked back the tears that threatened. She had to be strong, had to get back to her father. His already fragile life might be in danger, too. No matter what else happened, she had to have help getting her life back. She had to make sure he didn’t hurt her father. Her father’s safety was of primary importance. With his health so poor, almost anything could finish him off. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him yet, and certainly not like this.

The man, Ethan Delaney, looked at her with something new in his eyes…pity, maybe? Anger kindled in her belly and was joined by indignation. She didn’t need his pity; she needed his investigative expertise.

“When did you eat last?” he asked quietly, concerned.

She thought about that one for a moment, then remembered. The last three days were like one big blur of runaway emotions in her memory, some images more vivid than others. She immediately pushed those away. “The man at the front desk gave me a bag of peanuts and a soft drink when I checked in this morning,” she admitted. “Since I didn’t have any money I was profoundly grateful.”

“Really?” Ethan said, clearly skeptical. He lifted an eyebrow in punctuation. “How’d you pay when you checked in if you didn’t have any money or plastic?”

He probably wasn’t going to like this part. “I told him the man I was expecting would pay. Apparently that’s customary at this establishment.”

Ethan puffed out an impatient breath, then massaged his chin trying to decide what to do with her. Finally, as if he’d fought his own better judgment and lost, he shook his head. “Let’s go get you something to eat, then we’ll talk.”

She swung her head side to side in adamant disagreement of his suggestion. “I don’t feel leaving the room would be a wise move until we come to an agreement. Can’t you call for something to be delivered?”

His facial features set in grim lines, he stalked over to the table next to the bed and jerked the single drawer open. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she’d already alienated her only hope and they’d barely met. She had to work seriously on her people skills. But first, before anything else, she had to convince him to believe her. Success depended solely on that one step.

After checking the yellow pages, he asked, “Pizza okay?”

Her stomach clenched in anticipation. “Yes.” It wasn’t the cuisine she usually preferred, but it would certainly do. She was starved.

After he’d placed the order, he sat down in the only chair in the room, his expression unreadable. “The pizza’ll be here in twenty minutes.” He leveled that dark, analyzing gaze on her once more, making her tremble in spite of her best efforts not to. “I know who your father is and most everything I need to know about the company, BalPhar. But I need you to start at the beginning and tell me why you think someone is trying to kill you.”

His apathy infuriated her. “I don’t think,” she said hotly, “I know.” She glared at him, though she was confident her killer stare was not nearly as effective as his.

He lifted one shoulder and let it fall, the gesture as nonchalant as his tone and all the more infuriating. “Then tell me how you know.”

She drew in a deep, bolstering breath and started at the beginning as he’d requested, but opted for the abbreviated version. “Five years ago my father began a new research project with another scientist, Dr. Kessler. As the research progressed, Dr. Kessler made extraordinary advances. Then two years ago another scientist came on board with the project. With his help, the results rocketed to a whole new level.”

She was so tired. None of what she was about to say could be proven. How could she expect an outsider to accept it? How could it even be happening? Her father had always been so careful. How would she ever make this man believe the unbelievable tale she was about to relay? It was real and she had to have his help. Her father trusted Victoria Colby. If Victoria had sent this guy, Jenn had to trust him. But she couldn’t tell him everything—not yet. If she told him too much too fast, he would never believe her. Some things a person had to see with their own eyes.

She rubbed at her temples and stretched her neck in a bid for more time, then went on, “About a year ago there was a falling out between the two lead scientists and Dr. Kessler left. Now, the project named after him is ready to move to the next level—testing on human subjects.”

“Kessler is out of the picture completely?” Delaney wanted to know.

She nodded. “He won’t have anything to do with BalPhar. He even refuses his share of the stocks.”

That revelation made headway with her so-far unimpressable guest. He looked somewhat more interested.

He asked no questions, so she continued. “The drug created is a chemotherapy agent that literally neutralizes cancer cells. It’s called Cellneu.”

She noted another almost imperceptible change in those dark eyes. Even she felt amazed at how the drug worked. “Astonishing, isn’t it?”

“And very valuable,” he suggested.

“Very.” That one drug would make BalPhar a fortune a dozen times over and has the potential of saving countless lives. “There’s only one problem,” she added, but hesitated before going on. She had absolutely no proof of what she was about to say.

He studied her for a moment, considering what she’d told him so far. “Is that why you think someone is trying to kill you? To steal your new drug?”

She shook her head. “Someone is trying to kill me,” she explained, “because I know something he doesn’t want me to.”

Delaney gestured with his hand for her to continue. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Jenn moistened her lips. She knew how this was going to sound. She could only hope that he would believe her. “There’s something wrong with the drug. It may be dangerous to humans in the long run. I think maybe that’s why Kessler got out.”

“Can you prove it?”

She sighed. There was the one sticking point. She stood then, hands on hips for emphasis. She had no evidence, just the word of a dying man. “I can’t prove it, but I know it’s true.”

“And how do you know this?” he asked calmly. So damned calmly she wanted to scream.

“Because my uncle, who worked on the project, whom I trusted implicitly, told me with his dying breath.”

One of those dark eyebrows quirked. “His dying breath?”

“My fiancé killed him. He would have killed me, too, but I got away.”

Delaney leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his widespread knees. “Where exactly did this take place? Were there any witnesses?”

“In the chapel where I was about to be married.” She tried to blink away the images again, but couldn’t stop them. Her blood-stained gown. Russ lying lifeless on the floor. The sinister look in David’s eyes. Jenn pressed her fingertips to her closed lids and tried to banish the ugly pictures her mind conjured. Russ was dead. Was her father dead already, too? “There weren’t any witnesses. We wanted to keep things quiet. The others present worked for my fiancé. Even the minister.” She remembered vividly his doing nothing to help her as the man dragged her away. The minister simply stared at her, a passive expression on his face.

Delaney stood and started in her direction. Startled, Jenn tensed. In a protective move, she wrapped her arms around her middle. Be strong.

He towered over her. Intimidating, commanding. A little hitch disrupted her breathing as her senses absorbed his nearness. His scent. The heat he radiated. The restrained power behind all that muscle. She fought the fear. He was supposed to be on her side. No fear.

“So you were at this chapel, garbed in full wedding attire,” he clarified as emotionlessly as if he were inquiring about the time of day, “ready to walk down the aisle and your fiancé tried to kill you. But you got away. Is that what you’re saying?”

He didn’t believe her. Fury swept through Jenn, evaporating the last of her fear. She had no reason to lie. Couldn’t he understand that? “Basically, yes,” she returned tightly. “Except that he ordered one of his men to kill me. He dragged me from the chapel, then drove deep into the woods.” She shivered, knowing for the first time in her life how Snow White had felt. “He made me watch while he dug a shallow grave. When he decided to have himself a little fun before he killed me, I managed to get a grip on the shovel. I hit him hard, then ran as fast as I could.” She shuddered. “I didn’t look back.”

“All right.” Delaney still looked ambivalent. “Why don’t you give me your fiancé’s name and I’ll call a detective friend of mine in the city and have him pick the guy up. It shouldn’t take us long to sort this out.”

Fear rocketed through her. “We can’t call the police!”

Delaney inclined his head, studying her from another angle. “Why not? You said he murdered your uncle and that he attempted to have you killed.”

She chewed her lower lip. She couldn’t let him call the police. “He…he has my father. If I call the police and they investigate, but don’t lock him up, I know he’ll kill my father.” Panic tightened her chest. Though her father was gravely ill, on the verge of death really, she didn’t want him suffering. “Please.” She advanced on Ethan Delaney and grabbed him by his jacket. “Please don’t risk making things worse for my father. You have to help me.”

Those dark eyes softened just a fraction. “Tell me the name of this fiancé that you’re so afraid of and I’ll see what I can do.”

She nodded and swiped at the tears welling. “His name is David Crane. Dr. David Crane.”

TWO AND ONE HALF hours later and Ethan was sitting in the reception area outside Dr. David Crane’s plush tenth-story office at Ballard Pharmaceuticals.

It had taken Ethan a full half hour to convince his client to go along with his plan. She’d done everything short of crying to dissuade him, and she’d been damn close to doing that. Once he’d explained exactly what he intended to do, she’d reluctantly gone along with him. He’d asked her a few more questions about the Kessler Project as she wolfed down half the pizza he’d ordered. Though he was still skeptical of just who she was, he recognized that she was extremely intelligent and appeared to know almost everything about the company.

Her resourcefulness surprised him. He’d expected a spoiled rich kid who couldn’t fend for herself outside a closely structured environment. If all she said was true, she’d outwitted a would-be killer, run for her life, found a way to disguise herself and gotten the hell out of Dodge all on her own.

Impressive, he had to admit.

But, damn, she looked so young. Especially dressed as she was. He gritted his teeth and forced away the things he shouldn’t think about…like that smart and too sexy mouth of hers. Her lips had a daring little pucker to them…one that begged to be kissed, even if it was clearly unintentional. She was small, but emanated an air of strength. She’d sure surprised the hell out of him. In more ways than one.

On a more professional note, if she wasn’t Jennifer Ballard, she was certainly someone high up at BalPhar or a well-trained spy for one of their competitors. In his estimation, she knew far too much not to be from the inside. And if she wasn’t Jennifer, where was the real Jennifer Ballard?

Necessity had never posed the occasion for him to visit Ballard Pharmaceuticals before. He was impressed with the place. The building sat in the middle of a large compound, fifteen or twenty acres at least, a good twenty miles from any real civilization to speak of. Security was top-notch. Ten floors and a basement defined the structure. The architecture presented a very futuristic feel with sleek lines and angles, but with an underlying cold, stainless-steel edge.