was decisive and his voice definitive.
She experienced a new and completely inappropriate shiver of reaction.
This was a place of business, she told herself. He wasnât thinking about her as a woman. He sure wasnât thinking the same things she was thinkingâthat his commanding voice meant he might haul her into his office, pin her up against a wall and kiss her senseless.
What was wrong with her?
Tuck headed into Dixonâs office and she forcibly shook off her silly fantasy.
âDo you know his password?â Tuck asked, crossing the big room and rounding the mahogany desk.
âHis password to what?â she asked.
âTo log on to the system.â Tuck leaned down and moved the mouse to bring the screen to life.
She didnât answer. Dixon had given her his password a couple of months back on a day when he was in Europe and needed her to send him some files. She still remembered it, but she knew heâd never intended for her to use it again. What she technically knew, and what she ought to use, were two different things.
Tuck glanced up sharply. âTell me the password, Amber.â
âI...â
âIf you donât, Iâll only have the systems group reset it.â
He made a valid point. As the acting head of Tucker Transportation, he could do whatever he wanted with the company computer system.
âFine. Itâs ClownSchool, capital C and S, dollar sign, one, eight, zero.â
Tuck typed. âYou might want to think about whose side youâre on here.â
âIâm not taking sides.â Though she was committed to keeping her promise to Dixon. âIâm trying to be professional.â
âAnd Iâm trying to save Tucker Transportation.â
âSave it from what?â Had something happened?
âFrom ruin without my father or Dixon here to run it.â
âWhat are you looking for?â she asked, realizing that he was exaggerating for effect and deciding to move past the hyperbole.
Tucker Transportation was a solid company with a team of long-term, capable executives running the departments. Even from the top, there was a limited amount of damage anyone could do in a month.
âClues to where he went,â said Tuck.
Then Tuck seemed to have an inspiration. He lifted the desk phone and dialed.
A moment later, a ring chimed inside Dixonâs top drawer.
Tuck drew it open and removed Dixonâs cell phone, holding it while it rang.
âHow does it still have battery power?â he asked, more to himself than anything.
âIâve been charging it,â said Amber.
His attention switched to her, his face crinkling in obvious annoyance. âYou didnât think to tell me his cell phone was in his desk drawer?â
Amber wasnât sure how to answer that.
âAnd how did you know it was there anyway? Were you snooping through his drawers?â
âNo.â She quickly shook her head. She was intensely respectful of Dixonâs privacy. âHe told me he was leaving it behind.â
Tuckâs piercing gray eyes narrowed, his brows slanting together in a way that wrinkled his forehead. âSo he told you he was leaving? Before he left, you knew he was going?â
Amber realized sheâd spoken too fast. But now she had no choice but to give a reluctant nod.
Tuck straightened and came to the end of the desk, his voice gravelly and ominous. âBefore you answer this, remember Iâm the acting president of this company. This is a direct order, and I donât look kindly on insubordination. Did he tell you where he was going?â
Dixon had given her an emergency number. And sheâd recognized the area code. But he hadnât flat-out told her where he was going.
âNo,â she said, promising herself it wasnât technically a lie. âHe needs the time, Tuck. Heâs been overworked for months, and Kassandraâs betrayal hit him
Morten Storm, Paul Cruickshank, Tim Lister