Free Under His Control by Lynn Richards Page A

jaw tightened. Not so long ago he thought he had found that someone.
    “ It appears that your car has been, umm, slightly damaged .”
    “What!” He straightened in his leat her backed c hair. That car was his baby. He’d restored it himself on those rare long week ends he spent at the lake. This was t he first day he’d driven it into the city. “What happened and who did it?” He’ d have the culprit’s head on a platter before nightfall.
    “ I think it’s just a small scratch , sir. And it was Ms. Dawson.”
    Well, that took the wind out of his sails, and put the starch in his pants. At the me ntion of the woman’s name, his dick stood up and took immediate notice.
    More than a month ago, t he little bro wn haired witch had run away from him. It looked as if fate was giving him a second chance.
    It was about damn time.
    “Get someone t o escort her to my office .” Now that she w as so close to being his once again, he would take no chance on her escaping.
    “Yes, sir.”
    As soon as he disconnected the call, he gathered up the notes and court documents he’ d been reviewing and shoved them in a drawer . Thank God he wa s ahead of schedule on the brief . If not , he knew he’d stand a good chance of being disbarred for failing to represent his client’s best interests. He had oth er plans for the next few hours .
    P ressing the intercom butt on, he said, “Sally, come in here.”
    Rebecca ’s conscience weighed heavily on her as she was escorted through the fifteen story building. She looked down at the Jimmy Hendrix t-shirt she wore. S he was so not dressed to be frog marched past the employee cubicles of the Greyson, Sanders , and Delacorte law firm of Atlanta , Georgia .
    Since starting to free-lance for the firm, she rarely saw any of the people who had been her co-workers . She prefe rred to drop of f her work to Tara , the paralegal for the big man himself, Noah Greyson . She usually snuck in the back door so to speak to avoid meeting anyone.
    Anyone in particular that is.
    Maybe she could appeal to Tara to appeal to her boss to get her out of this mess. Whose car had she scratched anyway that required an escort – an armed escort – to their office? Why hadn’t they just called the polic e? She chewed on her finger nail again suddenly getting a very bad feeling.
    Following her silent companion into the elevator she tried to think of a way out of this. The most obvious choice was to confess, it had been her fault after all , and hand over her insurance card and face the consequences later. The other option would be to hand over her life savings , all three thousand , one hundred and n inety-three dollars, in the hope s that it would cover the damage. That would mean not taking classes in the fall and del aying her graduation yet again.
    The ding of the elevator sounded suspiciously like the tolling of the bell in the Edgar Allen Poe stories she’ d read as a child.
    The guard motioned for her to precede him as the stainless steel doors slid silently open. H e motione d to his right and that sense of impending doom flared when she realized exactly whe re they were headed .
    “Oh hell no.”
    Her voice echoed loudly in the empty corridor.
    When she refused to move, the guard took her by the arm to drag her forward. She dug the toes of her sneakers into the carpe t. She was not moving.
    “Miss, you have to come with me.” The guard’s voice squeaked. He couldn’t be more than twenty five . Not old, but certain ly younger than her thirty some years.
    Knowing what faced her if she continued down the hallway, Rebecca turned to the guard. Maybe he was into older women. “You don’t really want me to go there, now do you , umm, Stan?” She read the name on his badge and batted her lashes as she’d seen her friends do time and time again in the bars on Friday night s .
    “ Umm, ur , I’m – ” The man started to strangle on his own tongue.
    She wasn’t a bad looking woman, a little above