No Ordinary Day , Tate, Harley [ebook offline .TXT] 📗

I’m about to testify to Congress about how one of the biggest employers in the city is willing to poison millions of people for profit.”

The last thing she would see was his jacket as he walked out the door, sticking her with the bill.

Emma snorted at her own imagination before pressing the button for the fifth floor.

Chapter Two

John

Do I have something in my teeth? John ran his tongue along his gumline. No. He looked down. Fly buttoned. Clothes pressed. Nothing obvious to generate a way-too-long stare. He shrugged. Maybe she’s as crazy as they claim.

No matter. He wasn’t there to make friends with Emma Cross. He smoothed his shirt as another man stepped onto the elevator. The instant lip curl and shuffle to the far side of the elevator couldn’t have expressed his contempt any better. Emma was persona non grata at more than just her former employer, it appeared.

Did everyone in the building know about her status? Hmm. That might complicate things. John pressed his lips together. Time for additional surveillance was quickly running out.

The elevator door opened and he brushed past Emma and the other passenger to step out onto the third floor. Per his research, the building housed three different businesses: a broker on floors one and two, Fielding Labs on four and five, and a personal injury attorney on floor three. He smiled at the receptionist.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I believe I have an appointment.” The elevator doors slid shut behind him and John relaxed.

The receptionist glanced at her desk. “Mr. Foster is in depositions all day today, are you sure your appointment is for this morning?”

“I put the appointment in my—” John pretended to investigate his phone. “Would you look at that. I’ve got my days mixed up.” He smiled again. “My apologies.”

The phone began to ring before the receptionist could respond. “Foster Personal Injury, how may I help you?”

Shouting carried across the line and the receptionist covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “I’m sorry, is there anything else?”

John shook his head. “Thanks for your time.”

She smiled before releasing her hand over the phone. “Sir, I’m sorry, I’m having trouble understanding you.”

John headed toward the stairwell as the receptionist focused on the angry caller. Something she probably had great experience with in a lawyer’s office. Check that off on the list of jobs John never wanted. Not that many people would want his, but it suited him.

Impersonal. Anonymous. Lethal.

In other words, damn near perfect. He slipped into the stairwell and eased the door shut behind him as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the message.

Confirm ETA. Time is of the essence.

John typed a quick response. No later than 22:00 hours.

After pocketing the phone, he headed downstairs at an efficient clip, strode through the building lobby, and crossed the street. As he approached the boarded-up front entrance of the first building, he slowed. Directly across from Fielding Labs and Emma Cross, the once shabby office was undergoing a massive renovation.

He pulled a ball cap from his bag with an official-looking logo embroidered on the front and clipped a badge to his sweater before skirting around the side to the construction entrance. A skeleton crew congregated in what used to be the lobby, eating fast food breakfast and carrying on. Judging from the paint on their coveralls and the cans littering the floor, he wouldn’t have any trouble.

He strode up like he owned the place and held up his badge. “Electrical inspector. Check for code compliance.”

Without a single question, the team waved him on, practically turning their backs as they continued their conversation. If he’d learned anything over the years of doing this job, no one wanted to go out on a limb for someone else anymore. A group of painters weren’t about to help a city inspector find fault in the electrical and slow down their job. Not a chance.

After locating the stairs, John headed up, climbing until he reached the fifth floor. He eased the door open. Empty. With no one but a small paint crew down in the lobby, he had an entire unfinished floor to himself. Perfect surveillance setup. He pulled a high-powered pair of binoculars from his bag and eased to the floor.

It didn’t take long to locate Emma. With her red hair and lanky physique, she stood out among the other lab techs. He watched her tie back her hair and tug on goggles and gloves. She talked to no one, opting to bypass the small morning conversations and head straight to work. Confirms my analysis. No one likes a snitch.

John settled in, propping his elbows on his bag, and watched. The morning passed in uneventful chunks, with Emma sticking to her research and ignoring the people around her. If she kept it up, his job would be almost too easy.

Emma would be off his list by the end of the day and he could report another successful mission to his boss. A perfect record. Just the way he liked it.

Chapter Three

Emma

“How’s the titration coming?” Randall leaned over Emma’s shoulder and the remains of tuna on rye wafted up her nose.

She cleared her throat and eased away. “Everything is fine.” No one had checked up on her like this since ninth grade chemistry. It grated on every nerve, but Emma forced a smile as her temporary boss continued to inspect her work. Gone were the days of running a lab with her own experiments and a host of lab techs to carry out the boring details. Now Emma was the lab tech, plugging and chugging through an endless routine for barely enough money to keep afloat.

Stop it. With a silent admonishment, Emma shoved the pity aside. If it wasn’t for Randall and Fielding Labs, she might be out of the science field entirely, back to waiting tables and wasting her degree. She glanced at her boss. “Just wanted to remind you, I’ll be out next week.”

“That’s right. You’re going to assuage your conscience in front