The Target by L.J. Sellers Page B

would show up. She’d been warned by two co-workers that he would hit on her, and the way he’d touched her earlier was overtly sexual. But the gossip said that once she told him no, he’d move on and act like it never happened. Her looks had been one of the only things that saved her from being a total outcast in school. Garage-sale clothes that smelled like cigarettes, no one showing up for parent-teacher conferences, and her own unwillingness to compromise—‌all had made other kids whisper behind her back. But she’d snagged the lead in school concerts and plays, and the same girls who gossiped about her to others, were secretly drawn to her and the rumors of her unconventional home life. The boys had simply liked to stare.
    Seated in a booth along the side, Dallas watched as groups of people in business casual clothes filed in. She recognized several TecLife employees, but suspected most of the crowd might be. The company’s office, lab, and manufacturing buildings were all close by at the end of the cul-de-sac, and the area didn’t host any other large offices, just a mishmash of small businesses. So this was TecLife’s hangout. She wanted to meet Curtis Santera, the head of R&D, and probe his brain, but she didn’t see him in the crowd.
    She remembered the pheromones in her purse and discreetly dabbed some on. Not that she had any intention of hooking up with Grissom. He was not her type and also was married. She wasn’t a home wrecker, not even for a case she was working—‌unless it would prevent a massive terrorist attack or something equally devastating. But the more Grissom wanted her sexually, the more likely he would answer whatever questions she threw at him. Maybe even get careless.
    The CEO hurried in a few minutes later and apologized for being late. “I had a last-minute important phone call.” He slid into the booth across from her.
    “I understand. You’re a busy man doing important work.” Sometimes her own bullshit was hard to take.
    “I like to think so.” He gave her a teasing smile. “We are about to launch a revolutionary product. It will change millions of lives.”
    “Do you mean the data I’m working on for Ms. Decker?”
    “Yes, but we shouldn’t talk about it. This biologic has so much potential, our competitors would kill for it.”
    Interesting choice of words
. “Is that what the thief took today?” She infused her tone with concern. “Has the product been compromised?”
    “Everything will be fine.” He patted her hand.
    A cocktail waitress stopped at the table. “What are you drinking?”
    The heat walking over had put her in a mood for something icy. “Margarita, please.”
    “Make that two.” Grissom handed the server his credit card, then turned back to Dallas. “How do you like the job so far?” He laughed. “Not counting the fire alarm and the data breach.”
    “It’s interesting, and everyone seems friendly.”
    “We hope you stay. We offer a year-end bonus to keep our employees from jumping ship.”
    Another interesting phrase.
“Do you mean going to work for a competitor?”
    “Startups are always trying to poach our researchers, and our competitors try to steal our top sales people.”
    The server brought their drinks, and Dallas said, “Bring us another round in a moment please.” She raised her glass to Grissom for a clink. “To a long work relationship.”
    “Hear, hear.” He took a sip.
    Dallas downed hers. “It’s Friday. Try to keep up, man,” she joked.
    Grissom smiled and took a long pull. “I like you.”
    She returned his grin. “We’re just getting started.”
    A sales rep stopped by their booth and chatted for a moment. When he left, Dallas asked, “Who do you consider your main competitor?”
    “ProtoCell. The prick had a mole in our company who stole the data for our new migraine product. That’s why we’ve kept the Slimbiotic clinicals out of the country and out of the media.”
    Had ProtoCell started the