Texas Ransom

But he didn’t see how that was possible. The man had been nowhere near Garza when he collapsed.

Something else niggled at Graham. When Kendall turned at the door, their gazes had clung for a moment before he’d been pushed back against the wall. But in that split second, he’d seen her face clearly. She’d looked pale and anxious, but she hadn’t been frightened.

A chill slid down Graham’s spine as he hurried toward the elevators. The notion that Kendall had left with the stranger of her own accord filled him with the darkest dread even as he told himself there had to be a logical explanation for her behavior.

When she’d walked out before, Graham had been all too willing to take the easy way out, to bury himself in his work and let their relationship drift toward divorce.

But in the five years since the reconciliation, their marriage had grown stronger every day. Or so he’d thought.

Now doubt tore through his heart, and he remembered all the hours that he’d devoted to the PemCo Oil project. All the evenings he couldn’t make it home for dinner. The trips. The cancelled plans. Had his wife again grown restless while he pursued his dream?

He would have known if she were that unhappy. They were so close. They talked every day, no matter how busy his schedule. There had to be a perfectly innocent reason for her hasty departure. There had to be—

The vibration of his cell phone inside his breast pocket cut off Graham’s thoughts, and as he pulled out the phone, he glanced at the display. It was Kendall.

Relief washed over him as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Kendall?” When she didn’t answer, Graham said anxiously, “Are you all right? Where are you?”

Still more silence. Then finally she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Why did you leave like that?”

“I had to.” Her voice was low and shaky and Graham knew that something was very wrong.

“Are you sick? Why didn’t you tell me? We could have left together.”

“I didn’t want to tear you away. This is your night, Graham. And I’m sorry I ruined it.”

“I don’t give a damn about that. Just tell me what’s happened? Where are you?”

“I never wanted to hurt you. You have to believe that.”

“Tell me what’s going on, Kendall. You’re scaring the hell out of me.”

“I’ve done things, Graham. Things you don’t know anything about. But it was a long time ago. I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed because of you.”

His grip tightened on the phone. “Listen to me. I don’t care what you did in the past. We’ve both made mistakes. Whatever it is, we can work it out.”

“Not this time.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I love you—” Her voice broke and Graham heard a male voice mutter something in the background.

“Who’s with you?” he demanded.

“No one. It’s not what you think.”

“I don’t know what to think! Just tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. We can talk this out. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

He heard her draw a shaky breath. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then meet me at home. I’ll tell you everything. We’ll see then if you still want to work it out.”

The connection went dead and Graham immediately tried to call her back. Her phone rang and rang, but she’d obviously turned it off.

Cursing inwardly, Graham started toward the elevator, then stopped as the walls started to spin. He recognized the symptoms—it was an old problem—but this time the vertigo had come on so suddenly, he’d had no time to prepare, no time to focus. He could feel the eighty-five-story building sway as the walls tilted and the floor seemed to disappear beneath him.

For a moment, he imagined himself standing on one of the steel support beams, and he blindly put out a hand to steady himself. That was when he saw Kendall’s earring lying on the floor in front of the elevators. He knew it was hers because he’d given her the pear-shaped rubies as an early anniversary present.

The earring must have fallen off as she got onto the elevator. Or had she left it on purpose as some sort of clue to alert Graham that she hadn’t left of her own free will?

He was grasping at straws, Graham realized. Kendall hadn’t been coerced into leaving. He’d seen her at the door. The look in her eyes when she’d glanced back hadn’t been fear. It had been regret and Graham had no idea why.

Graham’s head was still spinning, but he knew he had to somehow get the vertigo under control. He would force himself to function because he had to. He had to find Kendall.

Clutching the earring in one hand, he stumbled toward the elevator, punched the down button and waited for the doors to slide open. As he staggered into the confined space, he stood with his back pressed against the wall, his gaze focused on the red emergency button. He didn’t look at anything else, and eventually the walls stopped spinning. His head cleared and by the time he reached the lobby, he’d managed to regain control of his equilibrium.

The huge glass-and-granite lobby was already swarming with police officers. Through the wall of windows he could see the bubblegum lights whirling atop the squad cars, and as he watched, a SWAT van pulled to the curb. Several men in armored body suits piled out of the back and headed toward the building with grim, determined expressions.

Graham quickly canvassed the lobby. Luckily no one had noticed him yet, but he hadn’t taken the time to figure out what his next move should be, let alone formulate any kind of plan. Obviously, he wasn’t getting out of the building without being seen, and even if he could, he had no way of knowing whether Kendall was still inside. But his gut told him that she was already gone, and he had a terrible feeling that if he didn’t find her soon, she would be lost to him forever.

Graham continued to study the lobby until he saw a familiar face. Earlier, when he and Kendall had first arrived, he’d struck up a brief conversation with one of the security guards. He’d manned the desk where all guests were required to sign in, and behind him, a bank of screens monitored the exits and various points inside the building.

Graham had caught a glimpse of an Astros game on one of the screens, and he’d asked the guard for the score. The man had recognized Graham’s name when he signed in, and they’d talked for several minutes about baseball and the design of the building before Graham realized that Kendall had gone over to the elevators to wait.

That same guard was still behind the desk as he watched the controlled chaos in the lobby.

Straightening his tie and then his glasses, Graham strode toward the guard without looking right or left. His formal attire would hardly allow him to blend in with the dour-faced officers in the lobby, but more often than not an air of authority was all it took. He’d learned that lesson first from his father and then from his brother.

The guard didn’t seem to notice as Graham approached. His attention was riveted on the SWAT activity outside the front doors.

Graham cleared his throat and stood a little straighter. “Excuse me.”

The guard turned. “Something I can help you with?” He was short and stocky, with thick blond hair and a round, boyish face.

“I hope so,” Graham said. “Do you remember me? We spoke earlier when I first came in. I asked you about the baseball game.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re the architect, right?

“That’s right. Graham Hollister.”

“What are you doing down here? I thought they were holding everyone upstairs.” The guard nodded toward the elevators as he hitched up his pants. He had the kind of protruding midsection that made it difficult to keep the waist of his pants from sliding down. He also wore glasses with thick black rims. He reminded Graham of a comedian who used to be on TV.

“I left before they locked the doors.”

The guard’s attention perked up. “Were you up there when it happened?”