The Huntress: full-length sexy romantic suspense by Dorothy McFalls Page B

from Six-Star Enterprises’ glass tower. He sat in the car a few moments, assessing the scene. It was close to midnight. The streets in this business section of Atlanta were empty. Not a soul in sight, which wasn’t ideal. Being the only one out in the street made him visible—vulnerable.
    His plan was simple. Get into the building.
    When Grayson had discovered Greg’s body—what was left of it—there’d been a pile of papers scattered on his desk, which sent up an instant red flag. One thick folder in particular had caught Grayson’s eye. The tab read “Financial Audit”—a second red flag when up.
    Greg had never taken an interest in the company’s financials before. His strengths had been in networking. Or if a hostile takeover was in the works, Greg had a knack for breaking down psychological barriers put up by the company they were targeting. Financials bored Greg. He skipped meetings where nothing but money was discussed.
    So, what was Greg doing with a financial audit on his desk the day he died? Grayson never did find out. Six-Star security descended on Greg’s office not more than a minute after Grayson had walked in to find Greg’s body. Less than an hour later, he’d been dragged away in handcuffs.
    Of course, that financial audit file wouldn’t still be on Greg’s desk. And if it contained, as he firmly believed, something that had gotten Greg killed, the file would be long gone from this earth.
    But his partner had been an anal bastard. If the file had been important, Greg would have digitized it and stashed the copy away in that secret vault Grayson had installed for him.
    Tonight, his biggest roadblock was getting past security and up to Greg’s office on the sixth floor. The security in the building was state-of-the-art, unbreachable. He should know. He designed it.
    He smeared black face paint on his cheeks and under his eyes to make it easier to sink into the shadows and took one last look in the rearview mirror to make sure the street was still empty. He got out of Matt’s tiny car and edged along the side of a building. Several minutes passed as he blazed a careful trail to Six-Star’s back service entrance.
    He’d practiced this for the past four nights and knew it would take him exactly six minutes to get into position. Three out of those four nights, a security guard had stepped out the service entrance door, taken a quick look around, and then lit up a cigarette. The security guard, due to appear in about four minutes, was breaking the rules and putting the building at risk. He’d patiently watched the building for more than a week to find such an opening.
    As he crouched in the darkness, a stocky club in hand, he hoped the guard wouldn’t choose tonight to kick that nasty smoking habit.
    Five minutes passed.
    Where was he ? He began to bounce on his heels.
    Six minutes.
    Still, no security guard. He decided to give him another few minutes before calling it a night. He could try again tomorrow.
    Eight more minutes passed.
    Just as he rose from his hiding place to leave, a shadow moved. A dark silhouette drew close to the service door.
    What’s this?
    He held his position; confident the darkness concealed him as the shadow stepped boldly into the light.
    A sick feeling twisted in his gut in reaction to what he saw. Word on the street was that a woman bounty hunter had been asking questions about him. At first, he’d suspected Vega. But this new bounty hunter wasn’t discrete, he’d been told, and had thoughtlessly gotten herself into a few difficult situations. Vega was good. Too good. She’d be breathing fire down his neck if she had been actively on his trail.
    This woman who’d stepped into the light, a curvy piece of work wearing a black cat suit that left nothing to his imagination, was probably the new bounty hunter. She tilted her head and stared at the locking mechanism on the door.
    You’re not going to get in through that way, sweetie . The longer he watched, the