Page 58 of Forged in Peril

After some convincing, he’d managed to get in to see Albert Dorling himself, but the old man had been even more slippery than he’d expected.

He’d made it sound as though D&P had taken the assault seriously, and that Bristol had overreacted, even bringing out a file confirming that Dillon Warrington had been terminated mere weeks after the attack.

The senior partner had claimed that Bristol demanded he be fired immediately, and didn’t want to wait for an internal investigation to be done, which had led to immediate tension in the office. Even then, according to Dorling, they’d never tried to force her out.

She’d simply quit on her own, unhappy that he and the other partners had not simply taken her word at face value and fired one of their most promising associates.

Cameron shook his head to himself as the light finally turned green, and he eased the sleek car forward into yet another tangle of seemingly endless traffic.

Jaclyn’s printed legal threats taunted him from where they lay on the passenger seat.

The whole thing was ridiculous.

Dorling had given him no real explanation as to why he and the other partners hadn’t gone to the police. He’d insisted that in order to protect their clients from media blowback, it was their policy to conduct rigorous internal investigations as a first step, especially when the credibility of an accusation was in doubt.

Of course, when Cameron had asked the man what he was trying to say about Bristol’s credibility, he refused to answer.

It was infuriating.

He believed Bristol’s story completely, but he also knew that D&P had had plenty of time to get their own story planned out. The paper trail would be impeccable.

As he pressed gently on the gas, inching forward as far as he could before red tail lights lit up ahead of him again, he tried to look on the bright side.

There was one faint glimmer of hope that he’d managed to uncover.

When he’d asked Albert Dorling about Warrington’s suicide, the man had put on an impressive display of surprise, but Cam wasn’t fooled. Despite the partner’s insistence that the man had simply been fired, Cam was certain that he knew about his untimely death. And for some reason, he didn’t want Cam to know that he knew.

He reached over into the console and took hold of his phone, using voice control to dial Allie Parker, their police liaison. She didn’t answer, so he left a brief voicemail asking her if she could give him some more intel on a recent suicide case.

Ben could find the records by other means, if necessary, but he tried to keep FBS within the law–and within the good graces of the San Antonio Police Department–whenever he could.

Finally, after several more minutes in bumper-to-bumper traffic, he pulled onto the quiet side street that led toward the FBS garage.

As soon as the familiar building came into view, however, something strange caught his eye.

There was a white van parked along the sidewalk, near the side entrance rather than the ramp that led into the garage.

He slowed the car, squinting at the logo on the back of the van, but the majority of it had been scratched off, the peeling paint revealing streaks of rust.

Definitely strange.

It was a wealthy neighborhood full of upscale businesses and homes, and there was minimal street parking. Usually, any car he saw parked here was at least as decent as his Jeep.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and forced himself to turn slowly, pressing gently on the brake without coming to a complete stop.

He felt as though his heart had stopped beating.

It was Bristol, rounding the corner, with a tall man in a neat navy-blue suit walking directly behind her.

His fingers were clamped around her upper arm, and it was clear by the expression on her face that she was not being led willingly.

He accelerated slightly and reached for his phone again, not daring to stop or to do anything else that would set the guy off.

Not yet.

They were headed for the van, he was sure of it, and he only had moments before they reached it.

Fingers shaking, he hit Gabe’s number in the recent call list, praying that he would answer. As soon as he did, he spoke, not bothering to wait for a greeting.

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