Hostage Midwife Read Free Page A

doors into the reception area for Spencer Enterprises. Behind his back, he heard Marian give an angry snarl. If he looked over his shoulder, he might see steam shooting out of her ears.
    Kelly cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t mind if we did this another time.”
    “I would,” he muttered. “I spent the wholeday dressed in a monkey suit, shaking hands and representing Spencer Enterprises. The last thing I want to do is spend my night mediating a rant between my uncle and Marian.”
    “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
    “Shakespeare?”
    “Or somebody like that,” she said.
    He placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her around the receptionist’s desk and into an open areawith several windows on one side and cubicles for the accounting department on the other. “I suspect you’ve been around other people who thought they deserved to wear crowns.”
    “My ex was a lawyer. Lots of bigheaded people in that profession want tiaras and crowns.”
    As they strolled past the cubicles that were decorated with photos and personalized touches, the overhead lights—which wereon motion sensors after the offices closed—came on automatically. Samuel had done an extensive upgrade on the electric and ventilation system in this building about five years ago. Though the decor featured saturated colors and lots of dark wood trim like an old-fashioned gentlemen’s club, the underlying design was state-of-the-art.
    The back wall of the ninth floor had a large office in eachcorner. “We’re in front of Marian’s office,” he said. “On the opposite side, it’s Uncle Samuel.”
    In the area between, Kelly paused to admire the gold-mining artifacts in two glass cases, including pans, winches and pickaxes. She studied the large oil painting above the oak wainscoting. The subject was a grizzled prospector leading a mule. She said, “That looks like a Remington.”
    “It’sRemington’s style, but my great-grandfather commissioned the painting from one of his contemporaries. The prospector’s face is actually a portrait of Great-Grandpa Spencer himself. At one time, the ass had the face of his number-one competitor.”
    “Why was it changed?”
    “After my great-grandpa drove the ass out of business, the painting seemed mean.” He pushed open the door to a large conferenceroom with a polished oak table, leather chairs and several other paintings hanging on the walls. “That little one with the bronco rider is a Remington.”
    “I like the historical touches. It’s very Old West Colorado.”
    “Not really my taste,” he confided as he crossed the room. “I like light and modern with clean lines. The office I usually work from is in the mountains.”
    “I thoughtyou lived in Valiant.”
    “My brother wanted me to fill in while he was out of town for a week.” His clever brother had also dragged him into the issues with Uncle Samuel. “I’ve got a condo here, but I live in Breckenridge. Most of my work is in the ski resorts.”
    At the back of the conference room, he paused beside a door that appeared to be dark oak. His knuckles flicked against the surface.“This entire section of wall and the door is heavy-duty steel.”
    “The security you were talking about.” She came closer. “Is the gold in there?”
    “This is only the first step.” He flipped open a nearly invisible wall panel to reveal a keypad. After punching in a five-number code, he opened the door to a brightly lit room. The walls were lined with utilitarian shelves and file cabinets.“This is our secure area where we keep confidential paperwork, contracts and mapping information. We call it the vault.”
    “I’m surprised,” she said. “I would have thought this information would be computerized.”
    “We’re working on it. Some of these documents date back to the 1800s. If they ever got lost, we’d have a hard time replacing them.” He took her by the shoulders and situated herin front of a floor-to-ceiling section