Outsider by Diana Palmer

expected it to be easy. After all, he was assistant security chief and he had a legitimate right to search the files if any employee was suspected of having criminal ties. He also wanted to see how Vance reacted to the names, both of which he was certain had a connection to the local drug trafficking.
    Brody Vance, however, balked at even the thought of disclosing confidential information about anyone who worked for the company.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he told Colby bluntly, “but my department doesn’t make a habit of dishing out personal information about our workers, to anyone, even in security.”
    Colby looked at the man as if he suspected his sanity. “We’re looking for a drug smuggler,” he told Vance, and he didn’t smile. “We can’t allow the corporation to be brought up on charges of aiding and abetting criminal activities.”
    Vance shifted and looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, that’s my rule.”
    Colby cocked an eyebrow. He opened his cell phone, dialed Hunter, and waited. Watching Vance, he began speaking in Apache.
    â€œThis guy won’t let me look at the files,” he told the other man. “I think he’s hiding something.”
    â€œWant me to come down and help you convince him?” Hunter asked amusedly.
    â€œWhy not?”
    He closed the flip phone and pocketed it.
    Vance stared at him nervously. “What language was that?”
    â€œOne of several,” Colby replied nonchalantly, “that I learned while I was working for the CIA.” He didn’t identify the language.
    The look on Vance’s face was priceless. “You worked for the CIA?” he stammered.
    Colby didn’t reply. It was a deliberate snub, giving Vance time to consider how dangerous it might be to deny the other man access to those files. He couldn’t afford to bring suspicion down on his own head.
    Vance was obviously reconsidering his position about the time that Hunter opened the door without knocking and walked in.
    Hunter handed the man a sheet of paper which contained the names of the suspicious employees and some damaging information about criminal acts in their pasts. Vance ground his teeth as he read them.
    â€œNow you’ll open those files,” Hunter said quietly. “Or you can explain your reluctance to the DEA. I can have one of their senior agents over here in five minutes, along with Eugene Ritter and one of our corporate attorneys.”
    Vance swallowed. Hard. He cleared his throat and sat down at his computer. His hands were unsteady on the keyboard.
    â€œI’ll print them out for you,” Vance said meekly.
    Hunter looked at Colby and had to fight a grin. “See how it works?” he asked Colby in Apache.
    â€œYeah, well the mighty warrior there looks as if he might need to change his trousers when we leave,” Colby replied.
    Vance, in the dark because he didn’t speak the language, retrieved two sheets of paper from his printer and handed them over.
    â€œNaturally,” he told the men, trying to backpedal, “privacy is a great concern to us here.”
    â€œAnd I’m sure the drug dealer’s employers will thank you for your efforts to shield them,” Colby said. But he said it in Apache.
    Hunter caught his arm and propelled him out the door before he had the opportunity to say it in English.
    â€œNice going,” he told Hunter with a grin.
    â€œWhen you’ve been in the security game as long as I have, you learn to deal diplomatically with hardheads like Vance,” Hunter told him, grinning back. “It isn’t much different from interrogation technique, but it works well on white collar types. I’ll tutor you. Now, if you’ll pick up two cups of coffee from the canteen, I’ll go down to the warehouse and check this information out with the supervisors.”
    â€œI’ll meet you in your office,” Colby replied with a chuckle.