Contract Bride

If Jennifer Ballard had grown up in this cool, seemingly untouchable environment he wondered how she had developed any emotions at all. The austere feel of the place didn’t sit well with him. But he was still collecting data, physically and mentally. He wouldn’t make any judgments just yet.

“Mr. Delaney,” the well-polished, efficient-looking secretary said, her voice a perfectly modulated pitch, “Dr. Crane will see you now.”

Ethan wondered if she’d taken voice lessons to achieve that flawless inflection. “Thank you.” He stood and nodded once in her direction, then turned toward the door a few feet away that opened into the junior VP’s office. He wondered then if Crane would remember him. He almost laughed. Ethan supposed he would. It was difficult to forget the man who’d saved one’s life. He should know, Crane had saved his as well. The three days and nights they’d spent together making their way across that desert were permanently imprinted upon his brain. No way he could ever forget. Death had stalked them both in more than one form. Ultimately, they’d saved each other.

Crane was standing when Ethan entered his office. “Ethan, what an honor to have you here. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He clasped Ethan’s hand and shook it heartily the moment Ethan had extended it. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” Ethan smiled. Crane had done well for himself. He still looked fit and had aged well. Lots of men in his line of work would have grown soft and maybe even gained a spare tire. But not Crane. He looked in excellent physical condition, seemed very much in charge. “It’s good to see you, too, Dr. Crane,” Ethan said after his quick visual assessment.

Crane waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. Call me David. After what we’ve been through together, formalities are a slap in the face. Have a seat. Please.”

Ethan sat down in one of the lavish leather chairs facing Crane’s desk. “Looks like you’ve moved up in the world,” he commented as he glanced around the luxurious office. A wall of windows presented a picturesque view near the long conference table on the other side of the room. From this level, everything for miles around sprawled across the landscape in a sea of lush green forests interrupted only by a narrow, curving road that led back to the city. The office furnishings were ornate, the decorating classic. It was nothing like the rest of what Ethan had seen in the building.

“From a desert in Iraq,” Crane nodded “I’ve definitely moved up.” He leaned back in his chair. “I have to say, I like it a lot better here.”

Ethan laughed. “I’ll bet you do.” An expensive-looking abstract oil painting hung on the wall behind Crane’s desk. The colors were so vivid it almost looked three-dimensional. The artwork nagged at Ethan, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on precisely what it was that bothered him.

“May I get you something to drink?” Crane offered, gesturing to the tray on the massive mahogany sideboard near the conference table.

Ethan dragged his attention back to the man and said, “No. I’m good.”

Crane propped his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his fingers. “My secretary tells me you’re with the Colby Agency now. BalPhar has done business with Victoria Colby for years. Sounds as if you haven’t done so badly yourself.”

“It’s not that different from what I used to do,” Ethan allowed, and that was true to an extent.

Crane nodded. “I can imagine.” He frowned then. “You know, I have a meeting in a few minutes that I, unfortunately, can’t reschedule, I think we should have dinner this evening and talk about old times,” he suggested, his frown reverting to a smile. “You can tell me what you’ve been up to since you saved my life all those years ago.”

Ethan searched Crane’s expression and posture for any sign of deception, but found none. “I wouldn’t have been able to get you out of that desert if you hadn’t saved my life first.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Crane admitted with a nonchalant lift of one shoulder. “But I would never have gotten out of there, period, without you. I was a dead man.” He pressed Ethan with a fiercely sincere gaze. “You saved my life. I owe you for that.” He smiled again, pushing aside the intensity he’d just displayed. “So tell me what I can do for you. Anything. Name it.”

Crane looked straight at Ethan, his gaze open, honest. The man Ethan had known all those years ago would not have been able to conceal lies so well. Surely he had not become a master of deception in the intervening time. Jennifer Ballard had to be wrong. Or maybe this was some sort of setup. There was no way to tell yet who was setting up whom.

“I’m investigating a small research facility for one of your competitors,” Ethan explained, laying out the cover he’d assured his client would prevent any questions as to why he was at BalPhar. “Alexon wants to buy out Camden, but they’re not certain it’s a wise investment. I’m sure you’re familiar with Camden.” He paused for effect. “Do you know anything that might make a difference as to whether Alexon proceeds? I know I’m taking a risk letting you in on what Alexon has planned, but I felt I could trust you.”

Crane pressed his chin to his steepled fingers and considered the question as well as Ethan’s final profound statement. “We’ve worked with Camden from time to time and never had any problem. Their reputation is solid, but financially they’re on the rocks.” A frown furrowed Crane’s brow. “However, financial woes aside, I didn’t know they were for sale. I am surprised at that. Howard Camden always swore he’d never answer to anyone else.”

Ethan smiled. “Camden doesn’t know it just yet.”

“Ah-ha.” Crane nodded knowingly. “A hostile take-over. Interesting.”

“Alexon wants the heads-up on a new cancer drug Camden’s got in the works.” Ethan shrugged, feigning disinterest. “You’d know more about that kind of thing than me. It’s some sort of cell-neutralizing agent related to cancer treatment. Big money-maker, I’m told, for the company that comes out with it first.”

Crane stilled, but showed no other outward indication of uneasiness or suspicion. “Really? I hadn’t heard about that either. Do you know if they’re ready to go public?”

There was the ever-so-slightest hint of wariness in Crane’s last question. Ethan had struck a nerve. Ethan flared his hands in feigned innocence. “Nah, that’s all I was told.” He narrowed his gaze on Crane. “So, you think Camden’s a good investment?”

There was something different in Crane’s eyes now. Ethan considered vaguely that maybe Crane was calculating how he could buy Camden first. Too bad it wasn’t really for sale. And Camden definitely didn’t have the cell-neutralizing drug in the works. The head of security at Alexon, an old friend of Victoria’s, had suggested this fishing expedition. One quick phone call was all it had taken. Next to BalPhar, Alexon was the biggest pharmaceuticals corporation in the country. Ethan had been right to mention the new drug, the one from the Kessler Project. He definitely had captured Crane’s attention—or suspicion—now.

“If Camden is on the verge of some sort of major breakthrough, it would definitely be a wise investment,” Crane advised. “However, you have to consider that many times rumors are started to make a business look attractive when it really isn’t,” he said, his tone direct. “If Camden actually were on the precipice of something that big, I doubt there would be any rumors. There would be tight control. Very tight control,” he emphasized. “You might want to reevaluate your sources.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Ethan lied. “I suppose if Camden is having financial woes, this sort of rumor could definitely be to their benefit.”

“Absolutely.”

Ethan stood. Crane did the same. Oddly he offered no objection to Ethan’s leaving, nor did he bring up dinner again.

“Thanks for your input.” Ethan extended his hand once more. “Maybe I can do the same for you sometime.”

Crane shook his hand. “The Colby Agency already takes very good care of us, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ethan hesitated before he turned to leave. “By the way, Victoria asked me to inquire about Mr. Ballard’s health.”

Crane’s expression grew somber. “Not well, I’m afraid. He’s rarely lucid these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ethan said. “And his daughter, Jennifer, how is she, under the circumstances?”

“She’s holding up as well as can be expected,” Crane responded without hesitation.

“Perhaps I should stop in, offer the agency’s support.”

“She’s in Boston on business,” Crane said quickly, too quickly. “I’ll tell her that Mrs. Colby asked.”

Ethan nodded. “You do that.”

Ethan left the office. He took his time strolling to the elevator. Though he still wasn’t sure Crane was hiding anything earth-shaking and certainly didn’t believe him to be the monster Jennifer Ballard had drawn, Ethan had the distinct impression that he was being watched as he made his exit.

DAVID CRANE stood silently at his desk for several moments after Delaney left. David watched him leave the building on the private monitor that was usually disguised as a rather expensive oil painting. He had a very bad feeling about his old friend’s visit. David clenched his jaw to hold back the fury whipping through him.

Someone knew. But no one—absolutely no one—was supposed to know. Only one of two people could have set this afternoon’s events into motion. Kessler possibly, but David doubted it, though he would certainly have one of his men look into that prospect. Kessler hadn’t opened his mouth in all this time, why would he do so now? He knew the consequences if he did. Kessler enjoyed his family…enjoyed life. He knew enough about this business to know that running his mouth off would get him killed. David would have killed him months ago, but that would only have aroused suspicions.

Kessler knew better than to talk. And if it wasn’t Kessler, then it could only be one other person.

But she was supposed to be dead.

David pressed the intercom button for his chief of security. “I want Ethan Delaney followed. I want to know where he goes and with whom he speaks.”

“Yes, sir, Dr. Crane.”

David sank back into his chair, a muscle flexing rhythmically in his tense jaw. Delaney couldn’t know anything…not really.

Because she was dead.

He was sure of it.

He’d ordered the contract personally.

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