Colby Lockdown

She might never get the opportunity again.

Chapter Four (#ulink_cf64950d-f229-55e5-b082-44c1c925d7c5)

Treamont condo complex, 9:20 a.m.

Mia Dawson checked her reflection in the mirror once more. She could do this. No matter that he was most likely on to her.

She could do it.

No one else had the level of access she did. If she failed to get this done…then he would just get away with his crimes.

It was her duty as a citizen of Chicago—as a human being—to see that he was stopped. And she owed it to her cousin to ensure justice prevailed.

Mia took a deep breath, moistened her lips and strengthened her determination.

There was no one else. It had to be her.

Grabbing her purse and keys on the way to the front door, she pushed aside the fear and reached for the door. She could do this.

A fist pounding on the slab of wood shook the doorknob in her hand.

She blinked, resisted the impulse to draw back a step. It wouldn’t be him or one of his men. She was on her way to his home now. He would much rather carry out any confrontation on his own turf.

Just check the security peephole and see who it is.

Mia leaned forward and took a look. A tall man with blond hair stood on the other side of her door. A frown furrowed her brow. She’d never seen this man before. She squinted, looked again. No, he was a stranger. Knowing her boss, he could have hired someone new just for this job.

Taking care of the enemy.

She swallowed back the uncertainty, deliberately slowed her breathing. “Who is it?” No point in pretending she wasn’t home. If he’d been sent to take care of her, he would know she wasn’t at work and that her car remained in the underground parking garage.

“I’m Investigator Slade Convoy. I have a few questions for you related to your work with former district attorney Timothy Gordon.”

Holy hell. She searched her brain, tried to reason what his statement meant. Seemed damned coincidental that an investigator would show up at her door at precisely this moment.

“Do you have some ID?” IDs could be faked, but asking felt like the right thing to do. He would surely expect her to ask.

The man shoved a credentials case close to the peephole. The case was open so that the identification card was displayed.

The Colby Agency. Private Investigator Slade Convoy.

The Colby Agency. The name rang a bell. She’d heard it at some point. Maybe on a case her boss had prosecuted. Maybe from a defendant. She stiffened her posture and demanded, “Why would you want to talk to me? Who sent you?” The latter was the far better question. If he told the truth.

“Ma’am, I really don’t want to do this in the hallway. The subject matter is sensitive.”

Ah, he avoided the important question altogether. Getting inside was his objective. “Who did you say sent you?” she repeated, though he hadn’t said at all.

“Victoria Colby-Camp, the head of the Colby Agency.”

That name sounded familiar as well. “Is there a way I can verify that?”

Impatience etched across his face. “You can call my supervisor. His name is Ian Michaels.” To her surprise, the man rattled off a number.

Mia chewed her bottom lip. What the hell? She fished her cell phone from her purse and entered the number.

After the first ring, a male voice uttered, “Michaels.”

She cleared her throat. “This is Mia Dawson. There’s a man at my door. His…name is Slade Convoy. He claims he represents your agency.”

This made no sense! He could have given her any number. No matter what this Ian Michaels said, he could be lying as well. She wasn’t thinking.

“Ms. Dawson, it would mean a great deal to the Colby Agency if you allowed Mr. Convoy to ask you a few questions. I can’t divulge the nature of the situation, as you might well imagine. But your assistance is greatly needed and would be genuinely appreciated.”

She had to be out of her mind to even consider opening the door. “I’m sorry, Mr. Michaels, but you and Mr. Convoy are asking me to open my door to a complete stranger. I’m certain you can understand how unwise such a move would be.”

“I do understand, Ms. Dawson.” He paused. “I don’t want to frighten you, but this is a matter of life and death. Without your help, fifteen people stand to lose their lives.”

Good Lord. How did she say no to that? Would anyone go that far to gain access to her when all he had to do was wait for her in the basement near or inside her vehicle? “All right. I’ll…talk to him.” Michaels thanked her before she disconnected. She had to admit that he sounded genuinely sincere.

Mia peered out the security hole once more. “Mr. Convoy, remove your jacket, please, so that I can see whether or not you’re armed.”

The man rolled his eyes but acquiesced to her demand. He removed the lined leather coat he wore and dropped it to the floor. Then he held up both hands, surrender style, and turned all the way around so that she could ensure there was no weapon tucked into his waistband.

When he faced the door again, he dropped his arms to his sides. “Satisfied?”

Another moment of hesitation lapsed before she relented and opened the door. He stood before her, taller than he’d looked through the tiny hole. One more deep breath. “How can I help you?”

He gestured to the room behind her. “Surely you can understand how I wouldn’t want to have this discussion in a public corridor like this.”

No way was this man getting her alone inside her condo. “Since I don’t know the nature of your business, I’ll have to disagree. What can I do for you, sir?” She’d made all the compromises so far—time for him to make one.

Tension started to throb in his square jaw. If he was one of her boss’s thugs, he was damned good-looking. She gave herself a mental shake. What the hell was wrong with her?

“Fine.” The tightening of his lips warned that he wasn’t happy. “The Colby Agency is investigating Mr. Gordon. I’m hoping you can clear up a couple of things for us before we make a wrong step. Whatever you tell me will be completely off the record. No one will connect any of it back to you.”

Interest stirred. Gordon was being investigated? This was the first she’d heard of that. “What sort of investigation?”

Convoy glanced around. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I just can’t talk about this in the open like this. You’re going to have to trust me.”

Anticipation nudged her. This could be the break she’d been hoping for. All she had to do was take the risk. She reached into her purse and removed her pepper spray, rested her forefinger on the trigger. “Come in.” Stepping back, she opened the door wider.

Convoy picked up his coat and crossed her threshold. She hadn’t noticed until then that he wore cowboy boots. Faded jeans and a striped button-up shirt. Other than the pricy jacket he didn’t exactly look like any high-class investigator she’d ever met. And if she recalled correctly, the Colby Agency was no low-rent P.I. shop.

Keeping her finger ready on the trigger, Mia closed the door and turned to her visitor. “What is the nature of your investigation?”

“Our client,” he began, “has requested a face-to-face with Mr. Gordon.”

Mia shrugged. “Gordon has a secretary. I’m certain a simple phone call is all you’d need to set up an appointment for your client.” Mia wasn’t the man’s secretary. She’d been his personal assistant for two years, had the rest of this month to go and then they were done. A tingle of fear shimmered through her. Less than one month to go to get what she needed. She was so close, but close wouldn’t cut it. The evidence had to be in her possession before she made her next move.