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The Hunter(13)

By:J. D. Chase




“What the …” I said aloud. My mind raced until it settled upon the embarrassing memory of my dream last night. “Secret celebration …oh, god. This is Travis’ idea of a joke.”



Thrusting the card into my bag and grabbing the flowers, I turned to leave. I had my hand on the door handle when it occurred to me to wonder how Travis would have managed to get into the building unseen. And how would he unlock my door? The flowers were also undoubtedly expensive - that didn’t sound like Travis at all. Did he know my real name? I doubted that he did.



Sighing that the mystery was still unsolved after all, I stepped out into the corridor. I was just about to put my key in the lock when I recalled a voice so deep and sexy that it was almost a growl. “It’s the master key,” it said. I froze as the visual memory popped into my head. He unlocked my door with the master key. He has access to my office! If he has a master key, he must work in the building.



I forced my fingers to function and locked the door then I raced down the corridor, past the elevator and dashed down the stairwell, ignoring the continued protests of my feet. No way could I face getting in the elevator.



I had intended to dash straight home but as I neared the revolving door, the guard stepped out from behind his desk and stood directly in my path.



“Wow, they are beautiful. My wife would love them. Did you find out where they were from?” he asked innocently.



“No such luck,” I forced myself to speak. I was just about to sidestep past him when an idea formed in my mind. “What is your name?” I asked him sweetly.



“Clark. William Clark,” he said, raising his eyebrows questioningly.



“Nice to meet you, Mr Clark,” I grinned. “I hate being new. There are so many people in this building and I am terrible at remembering names.”



“Oh, tell me about it,” he replied. “That’s one of the reasons why I would hate to move on from here.”



“There’s someone whose name I can’t remember and I have seen him a couple of times this week and it is embarrassing. I must learn his name.” I said, carefully.



“Do you know which company he works for or which floor he is on? Can you describe him? I can try to help you put a name to the face if you like,” Clark said, as I’d hoped he would.



“No, I don’t know which company or which floor but I saw him near to my office on the 4 floor and again in the elevator when I came down from the 15 floor to mine,” I said eagerly. “He has very dark brown hair that is almost black. His eyes are deep blue …” I paused, searching for more descriptive words that I could utter aloud, as Clarke shook his head, looking blank. “Oh and he was dressed all in black both times and his voice was very, very deep.”



Clark’s eyes fixed on mine and his mouth opened then closed again. He shook his head slightly, obviously changing his mind about what he’d been about to say.



“What were you going to say?” I asked him sweetly. “Do you know who he is?”



“No, sorry. The description matches someone but it wouldn’t have been him on your floor or in the elevator,” he said.



“Oh, who were you thinking of? Elvis Presley?” I joked.



He laughed. “No, now that would be impossible!”



“So come on, who couldn’t it be?” I asked as I became aware that I was batting my eyelashes.



“Your description sounds like Lucas Hunter but it can’t have been him,” he replied with conviction.



“Who is Lucas Hunter and why can’t it have been him?” I asked. I tried not to sound as exasperated as I felt.



“He owns this building. It can’t have been him because, as far as I know, he stays in his own part of the building. He wouldn‘t be on the 4 floor or in the elevator,” said Clark quietly, as if he didn’t want to be overheard.



I found myself whispering back, “Why wouldn’t he? Is he based on this floor then?”



“No, right at the top. He never uses the main elevator. And I mean, never,” he said and then, noticing my confusion, he dropped his voice even further. “He has a private elevator that is for his use only.”



“He sounds … odd,” I murmured. Then a thought struck me. “Does he have a master key for the building?”



“Yes, he does,” replied Clark knowledgeably, his eyes immediately narrowing. “Why, do you ask?”



“Just curious,” I said with forced brightness. “Anyway, I must go - it is my turn to cook. See you in the morning Mr Clark.”