Bullseye by Virginia Smith Page B

Mason was gone, and this man—this very attractive man—was someone she didn’t know. She couldn’t decide if she liked him or not. At times today she’d hated him for his casual, sarcastic tongue. At other times she appreciated his rough but thorough concern for her. And this evening she found herself strangely drawn to him. Which made him dangerous.
    And yet, she was afraid to be alone. The day’s events had terrified her. What if the big man in the black car came back? What if whoever was responsible for burning her car decided to pay a visit to her apartment?
    At the thought of Mason sleeping on her sofa all night long, just a few feet beyond her bedroom door, a desert invaded her throat.
    Lord, I need You! Please help me .
    The prayer, an unspoken connection to Heaven, gave her a tendril of strength. Drawing on reserves of calmness she didn’t possess on her own, she replied in an even tone.
    “You can’t stay here, Mason.”
    Something flashed in those piercing blue eyes. Regret, perhaps? In a moment it was gone, and the smug grin returned.
    “I figured you’d say that. It was worth a try, though.”
    What was that supposed to be, an insulting comment? The insinuation that she might have relented, that a night on her couch might have led to something else, created an instant fury inside her. She drew herself upright, ready to pounce back with a verbal volley, something about him being the last man on earth she’d want sleeping on her couch no matter how much danger she was in, but the words went unspoken. Because at that moment his cell phone rang.
    Straightening, he slid it out of his hip pocket and glanced at the screen.
    “My friend in Atlanta.” He clipped the words short while he stabbed at the screen, then lifted the phone to his ear. “What have you got for me, Brent?”
    His eyes went distant for a moment as he listened, and then a slow smile curved his lips. He didn’t lower the phone, but spoke to her. “Bingo.”
    Karina’s pulse kicked into overdrive for the second time in as many minutes.
    * * *
    “At first it looked like I’d run into a dead end.”
    Mason spared a moment to marvel at the technology of the small rectangle resting on the table between them. The quality of his voice through the phone’s speaker was nothing short of amazing. Not a trace of the tinny quality of most speakerphones. If Mason closed his eyes, he could almost picture Brent sitting right beside them in Karina’s tiny kitchen instead of talking through a cell phone.
    “Casa del Sol Restauranteis owned by a private company called Alimento Sabroso.”
    Karina supplied the translation without raising her eyes from the phone. “That means flavorful food. ”
    “The outfit owns another restaurant there in Albuquerque called, predictably, Casa del Luna . You know—sun, moon. Anyway, the primary owner is listed as Jorge Sastrias.”
    Mason’s ears pricked. Their waiter had said that he never got to wait on Maddox, because Jorgealways took care of him personally. He addressed the phone. “You said primary owner?”
    “That’s right. Mr. Sastrias has a partner, another corporation. This one’s called Good Food Enterprises. Good Food also owns an interest in a half-dozen or so other restaurants in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, but only the two with Mr. Sastrias.”
    “O-kay.” Mason processed this information. “So who owns Good Food Enterprises? Maddox?”
    A chuckle sounded through the phone. “Not so fast. There’s no single owner listed. Good Food Enterprises is a subsidiary of a corporation called Grayscale Incorporated.”
    Karina shook her head. “Wait a minute. I’m confused.”
    “Now you’re feeling my pain,” Brent said. “It’s like an endless chain of corporations. Trying to track them down is like following one of those pencil mazes. But the trail ended at Grayscale. And guess who’s the chairman of the board of Grayscale Incorporated.”
    Mason didn’t need to guess. He knew. With an