There was no time to explain to Giselle.

We both knew what we’d seen.

And time was against us all.

Turning my body sideways, I squeezed my shoulders through the sliding metal doors as soon as the elevator opened. I’d been anxious to get back to Parker Holdings as soon as the news about Tonya Craig broke. On the verge of a panic attack, self-blame crept up my spine bringing pellets of sweat to my brow with it. Nothing could have made me anticipate this. Nothing.

Marching toward reception, I hoped that I would find Timothy Parker inside his office. Hoped to God that he’d picked up his conference call that my previous visit had forced him to end. Because if he was there, if he was on the phone, then I could kill my assumptions that he was the one to silence the one obstacle that stood between him and the million-dollar acquisition his company was about to close.

As I approached, my feet were cinderblocks as Tonya’s young, innocent face haunted my thoughts. My heart ached. My insides tied into a painfully tangled knot. And with each step I took, I deeply regretted Madam’s idea to have me blackmail Parker in exchange for dropping the assault charges the district attorney pressured him to make against me.

Turning back the hands of time was wishful thinking and my victory short-lived. Now I had to live with another death because of the choices I’d made.

Shortening my stride, I wiped my brow as my vision tunneled.

The woman behind the desk lifted her head, sensing my presence as I approached.

The floor beneath me spun and I stumbled enough to feel myself falling, but not enough to be seen.

Her lips frowned the moment she realized it was me—back again so soon. And who could blame her? I’d disobeyed her instruction and interrupted Parker’s important conference call only an hour ago. She stood, as if expecting confrontation, smoothing the flat of her hands over the front of her skirt. “I’m sorry, Mr. Black. But just like before, you’re going to have to make an appointment.”

Drumming my fingers on her desk, I smirked. “Parker didn’t tell you?”

Her head tilted to the side as she eyed me with a suspicious glance.

“He’s expecting me.” I took one step toward Parker’s office doors.

“Mr. Black, if you go in there I’ll have to call security.”

Reaching for the doorknob, I turned and said, “This won’t take long.”

“He’s not here,” she conceded.

My entire body froze as a slight chill rippled over my flesh—the heavy stone settling in my stomach as my fears were now realized. But regardless of what I’d just learned, I had to see it with my own eyes. Slowly, I turned the knob, opening the door and stepping inside Parker’s office only to find it empty, just as she said. Timothy Parker was gone.

“When did he leave?” I asked.

The young secretary glanced to the clock on the wall. “Not long after he met with you.”

Which meant that Parker had enough time to ensure Tonya Craig kept quiet—forever—about the relationship she had with him. Rubbing my nose, I turned my focus back to the inside of his office. Looking around, thoughts whirled between my ears trying to make sense of him and Tonya Craig.

Parker was a money man. A deal maker. An innovator. And a murderer, too?

And she was a friend. A daughter. And a call girl who might never be missed.

“Mr. Black,” the secretary called from outside the door, “I’m going to ask you to leave his office one more time before I really do call security.”

Ignoring her pleas, I shut the door and continued to browse his desk.

This was my fault. If Parker killed Tonya, then my hands had her blood on them, too. And, worst of all, I was convinced that Madam knew Parker might snap. Which then made me wonder, what did Tonya know—or do—that Madam didn’t like enough to have her killed?

Pulling my cell from my pocket, I scrolled through my list of contacts before landing on Parker’s name. And just when I was about to hit the green call button with my thumb, a phone began to ring on the other side of the room.

Following the sound, I hurried to the opposite wall only to find Parker’s cell spinning in circles on top of the filing cabinet. Assuming he’d forgotten it in his rush to leave, I reached beneath the long leafy plant limbs and turned the phone over to see who was calling.

My eyes widened when I saw the name Oscar Buchannan flash in bright white letters over the screen. Paranoia made me speculate the conspiracy to kill Tonya was much bigger than I’d originally thought—if the district attorney was behind this, too.

Sucking back a deep breath, I placed the phone in the exact place where I’d found it, not wanting to be connected to this any more than I already was. Opening the door, the secretary warned me that security was on their way up.

“You can call them off. I’m done here,” I said, passing her desk, never looking her in the eye for fear of what she might soon learn. I made a hasty exit.

If I was set up to get Tonya killed, I needed to get ahead of the story before the story came to me.