Lance makes a small sound at the back of his throat, and Andrea raises her eyebrows at him. He just shakes his head at her. She doesn’t need him to tell her who rigged the elevator to fall. She knows Jackson is behind it. She just didn’t expect his next attack to come so soon.
“We’ll use the stairs,” Lance says. “It’s only on the third floor, anyway.”
He takes Andrea’s hand in his and his grip is as firm as iron. Still, he’s patient and slow as he climbs the stairs, worried that too much activity will be bad for her pregnancy. The bodyguards walk in front with their guns in their hands—ready to fight any surprise attackers lurking in the stairs.
The dining room is huge and empty. A giant rectangular table dominates the room, and dozens of leather chairs line both sides. Every single p
