Page 63 of Lying to the Boss

The radio is already set to my favorite station, and I put the volume up as I back out of the spot. If I hurry up, I’ll only be a few minutes late. Still, no matter how late I am—one minute or twenty—I hate how David sees me walking in. He’s never judgmental on the outside, but I do wonder what he thinks on the inside. Does he wonder if there’s something going on with me and Lane? Does he know Lane is into men?

I sing along to Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine” as I come up to a red light. There’s less traffic today than usual, which is odd for a Monday morning. Maybe I missed all the morning traffic since I’m leaving a little later than usual.

The light turns green and I step on the gas.

I see the car flying toward me when it’s too late to do anything about it.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lane

Eight comes and goes. I’d expected him to be a little late. 8:30 at the latest. But now it’s nearing nine, and that’s just unlike him.

I try his cell, but it rings and goes to voicemail. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic or had to stop home for something. Usually he’d let me know, but if he’s trying to hurry up, he probably wouldn’t.

I check my schedule to make sure there isn’t anything important going on that I need to know about. I have a few meetings today, but the first one isn’t until ten.

I try to focus on work, but something is nagging at me. Something doesn’t feel right. I try him again, and same thing—his phone rings until the voicemail picks up. I send a text, asking him to call me. It sends but it doesn’t pop up as read. Maybe he really is stuck in traffic or in the shower. I don’t know why I’m worrying.

The next thirty minutes go by quickly with me going over reports and making notes on different concepts.

There’s a heavy, quick knock on my door and then it’s shoved open before I can tell them to come in.

David.

“Sir, you’re here,” he says out of breath, eyes frantic.

“Yes, I’m here. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just—I saw—”

I raise a brow. “What did you see?”

His face twists into confusion as he looks at his phone that’s clenched in his hand then back at me.

“I thought—”

Panic swells in my chest. I don’t know why, but there’s something about the way he’s behaving that isn’t right.

“What?” I demand, getting to my feet..

“Your car—”

“What about my car, David?” I growl, moving around my desk. Why the hell is he talking about my car?

“I thought you were in an accident.” He holds up his phone to show me what he was looking at. It’s a news station covering a terrible accident that’s holding up traffic. Four cars involved.

Including mine.

My blood turns to ice, and for a moment, I can’t see. I don’t feel anything. My ears start to ring.

Then there’s a hand on my arm.

“Sir, are you okay?” David shouts in my face. I blink and look up to find a couple other people standing by. One of them looks like they’re about to pass out themselves. “Mr. Monroe?”

“I have to go,” I grab my cell from the desk and run out of the office, dialing Blake on the way.

I faintly hear people calling my name behind me, but I keep going. The chaos has caused others to step out of their office, and I almost run people down as I go. They jerk back into their offices, mumbling about what’s going on and if they need to evacuate. I’m sure David can handle the building.