Free Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense) by Cathy Marlowe Page A

longer see it.
    He was too late.
    He ran his hands roughly through his hair and held his head as the pounding he’d ignored during the rush of adrenaline returned with intensity. A twig snapped behind him.
    Instinctively, he blended into the undergrowth and remained still. When he heard nothing but normal forest sounds, he sank against the base of a tree and fumbled with the zippered pocket of his jacket, withdrawing his pills with shaking hands. He stared at them and then tossed them into his mouth, only to spit them back out and grind them into the dirt with his fist.
    Whatever his problems were, they wouldn’t be fixed by little pills that not only stopped the pounding in his head, but also gave him a much-desired sense of well-being. How stupid did his father think he was?
    He gritted his teeth and jogged back to the mansion.
    Feeling somewhat presentable after a long, hot shower and three ibuprofen, he joined Alistair ten minutes late for their first meeting of the day.
    “You’re late.” Alistair peered at him, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.
    “Sorry.” He poured a glass of water and sat at the conference table. “I ran a little farther than usual this morning.”
    Alistair stroked his goatee with his forefinger. “Yes, you left rather early today, did you not?”
    Raising his glass to his mouth, Thomas took a long drink. “Yes, I did. I came across a warehouse on the far side of the island. A pretty inconvenient location.” He gazed intently at his father.
    Alistair’s mouth tightened, and then he smiled and waved his hand. “Why would I want to look at an ugly storage building? Of course it’s on the other side of the island. Perhaps if you didn’t run so far from the mansion, you would be on time.” He raised his brows. Seeming satisfied that Thomas understood his point, he began their meeting.
    Thomas realized he’d definitely discovered something of interest this morning. Alistair tried to hide it, but he’d been furious that Thomas had stumbled upon the warehouse. A warehouse with a smokestack and an armed guard.
    The morning was spent reviewing Worldwide Pharmaceuticals’ European operations. Although he wished to spend the lunch hour with Ace, Alistair insisted they eat in his office to prepare for an international conference call.
    Determined not to waste time he could be spending with his son, Thomas raised the issue of his salary, and the name of his bank, and the location of his checkbook. Alistair was indignant.
    “What is this infernal concern with money?” The old man slammed his fist on the desk. “Is not your every need seen to here at your home?”
    Unruffled by the outburst, Thomas presented his carefully crafted argument. “Yes, Father, and I appreciate the fine life we have here. But I’m a man and a man prefers to earn his keep and not depend on the generosity of others.”
    For a moment, silence filled the room, and then Alistair laughed. “Very well, son. I concede your point.”
    He rose from his chair and clapped Thomas heartily on the back before opening a safe hidden behind an oil painting of the mansion. “We’re behind on work due to your accident, so it will be a while before we can travel to the mainland. In the meantime, how much money does your manly pride require?”
    Ignoring the verbal dig, Thomas waited as Alistair counted out large bills from an outrageously huge stack of currency. When the total reached ten thousand dollars, he smiled and scooped up the money. “I believe this covers my first week’s work.”
    Alistair grinned. “I see you’ve retained your self-confidence in spite of your injury. You are a Forrester to the bone, my boy.”
    Although Thomas could have left to visit Ace once they were ready for the call, it seemed prudent to remain. He didn’t want to take the money and run—at least not yet. He stayed to finish a leisurely lunch, not realizing that Alistair had them booked nonstop for the rest of the day.
    The exceedingly dull business