11 by Kylie Brant Read Free Book Online Page A

she was looking for there. You think I leave evidence that I provide services that some narrowly focused on the law might consider illegal?”
    It was one of those loose ends that didn’t fit. And yet she knew she hadn’t left a trace either. Paranoia tended to keep a person hyper-vigilant. “Then the only other possibility is that you sold her the information. That you’d arranged for my disappearance. The names on the false passports. It wouldn’t have been difficult to guess that I’d retain security. Or to discover I’d hired your company.”
    “Technically I was hired by your father.”
    She smiled thinly. “My father’s not that altruistic. He forwarded the billing to me.”
    Having devoured everything on his plate, he moved to the bed to serve up more. “Just a tip—a security business doesn’t last long if word gets out they sell privileged information about their clients. But if I were interested in scoring some big bucks I’d have leaked your info to a paparazzi rag. Their owners have deeper pockets than the ordinary citizen.”
    Her suspicions began to fray under his logic. “Then why are you here? It’s a bit too coincidental that both of you appeared at the same time.”
    “Coincidental.” He had resumed eating. “And fortunate for you. I didn’t give your information to anyone, but I was asked to find you.”
    Something flickered inside her. Something she’d thought long buried. “My… father?”
    His headshake doused the tiny flicker. Of course. She should have known better. Had known better. As far as Russell Deleon III was concerned, he didn’t have a daughter. He’d told her as much before she left the US. It hadn’t been news. The only times he’d ever remembered her existence was when her outrageous behavior had forced him to deal with her.
    “Have you heard of Adam Raiker?”
    He looked surprised when she nodded. “He’s one of the leading forensic profilers in the States.” She didn’t bother to say how she recognized the name. Mia had known exactly how crippled she was from her trauma. She’d barely been able to make the most mundane decisions once she’d escaped. Could scarcely function in a crowd. Her physical prison had been behind her, but she’d remained caged in an emotional one. She’d realized that she required professional help to deal with her trauma. So meticulously she’d gathered information on the people with the expertise to help her. And then, when she’d felt secure enough, she’d contacted one of them. Dr. Erich Halston.
    The slight smile he gave only lifted one side of his mouth. She wondered if the wounds on his face had caused paralysis on the left. “Raiker would object to part of that descriptor, but close enough. He’s working on a case and found a small detail that reminded him of your story. He wants to speak to you about it.”
    Mia didn’t harbor hope. It was too fragile an emotion, and much too devastating when it was squashed. But something very close to the emotion was blossoming in her chest with a strength that strangled the oxygen in her lungs. She sought to rein it in. Bishop would know exactly what to say to her to allay her fears.
    He set his plate on the floor and reached into his jeans pocket to withdraw a phone that vibrated in his hand. “Let me guess.” Her words were caustic. “Raiker conveniently picked this moment to call.”
    “Nope. My office.” He tossed the cell across the bed to her. “Go ahead and answer it. I’m sure you’re already suspecting that the woman chasing you is on the other end, waiting to hear a progress report.”
    She picked it up. Pressed the Talk button. “Yes.”
    There was silence for a moment. Then, “Who is this?”
    “An…acquaintance of Bishop’s.”
    “Put him on.”
    The woman’s voice was imperious, with an edge Mia recognized. It didn’t belong to Four. It was one of Bishop’s employees. The one who’d given her a hard time when she’d called with her third request