Her Forgotten Betrayal
Anna DeStefano
Chapter One
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
PRESENT DAY
Run!
The thought screamed through Shaw Cassidy’s mind, her entire body, every instinct demanding that she escape.
You’re not going anywhere, she silently scolded herself, crouched behind the closed closet door. Not until this is over.
The cramped darkness shrank closer, choking off her oxygen like a fist clenching around her throat. She fought to swallow.
On the other side of the door, an angry argument escalated. Unholy plans seethed like brutal, living things. “That’s not the price we agreed upon!” someone shouted, every syllable laced with the threat of violence. The words held a foreign accent, though the man’s English was impeccable.
“The parameters of our deal have changed,” answered a raspy voice that was familiar, yet she couldn’t place it. “I’ve absorbed enormous risk to get you what you need. Pay up or our deal is off. And I assure you, sir, no one backs out of an agreement with me.”
The coldness of the second man’s response made Shaw’s stomach roll as they continued to argue. She shivered. What had she gotten herself into?
If she made the slightest noise, she’d be discovered crouching amidst the surplus office equipment and supplies. Frozen to the spot, she strained to hear each word, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. This was insane. But she had to know everything these men were up to, even if it took all night for them to finish so she could get away and finally alert the authorities.
The world she’d created from her empty life was imploding around her. These bastards’ clandestine activities would ruin her. They were putting countless lives—countries, even—at risk. Her multinational corporation, Cassidy Global Research, and the valuable work they did were the center of her world—if she didn’t count Esmeralda, who condescended to being petted twice a day when Shaw filled her geriatric Siamese’s food bowl. Every other waking moment was consumed by her research, client conferences, her smartphone, and an endless stream of reports and deadlines.
Her research made a difference in the world. Her company provided the government and other select clients with top-secret technology and scientific innovation in various fields, while she was rarely required to venture farther than her office or her labs. At thirty-two, she was successful. She was content. She was as close to happy as she’d been in fifteen years. As close as she’d ever be again. No way was she letting these men rip that away from her.
She hunkered deeper within the cloying dimness.
The only light was a sharp seam of illumination cutting across her bent knees from where the door didn’t completely meet the carpet. She’d been lying in wait for these guys, certain of the timing of the meeting, even though there’d been no mention of it in the Cassidy scheduling system. She had to stop them. She needed hard evidence, incontrovertible proof of the security breaches she’d uncovered. Otherwise, if an official investigation were launched, the trail of circumstantial evidence would lead authorities straight to her, not to these dangerous men.
She shifted her balance. Fresh blood circulated through her legs. Pain seared up her thighs. Pinpricks of sensation swarmed like bees.
“You won’t get away with this madness!” the foreign-sounding man raged.
“I will,” shouted the raspy-voiced man. Then he calmly added, “I always have.”
The verbal sparring escalated to even greater decibels. She winced. At any moment, they’d come to physical blows. Who was arguing like they wanted to kill each other in her father’s abandoned conference room?
A winter storm battered rain against the outer windows, drowning out more and more of what was being said. One of the men moved closer to her, his body blocking the light filtering under the closet door. She cringed, her hand grabbing the doorjamb until the person stepped away.
How had she convinced herself that the solution to stopping their criminal activity was to spy on them herself? In a closet. In the middle of the night.
With an ominous wail, wind buffeted the high-rise that housed her corporate headquarters. An agonizing cramp grabbed at her right calf. Her leg slipped. Her shoe banged into the closet wall.
The room beyond her stilled, the sudden silence terrifying her. She held her breath, her hands plastered against the door, hoping. Praying. Maybe they’d think the noise had been caused by the storm.
Someone approached the door. This time, she could hear his footsteps. Steady. Measured. The tread of men’s dress shoes, muffled by carpet. He slowed, stopped, stalling mere inches from her. Another wave of fear sucked away the air around her. Her lungs burned. Her hands balled into fists. She wanted to pound them against the door.