THE DOM WHO LOVED ME
Masters and Mercenaries, Book 1
Lexi Blake
THE DOM WHO LOVED ME
Masters and Mercenaries, Book 1
Lexi Blake
Published by DLZ Entertainment LLC at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 DLZ Entertainment LLC
Edited by Chloe Vale and Kasi Alexander
ePub ISBN: 978-1-937608-00-2
If you have purchased a copy of this eBook, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the rights to resell, distribute, print, or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload to a file sharing peer to peer program. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. If you no longer want this book, you may not give your copy to someone else. Delete it from your computer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.
Acknowledgements
No book gets written in vacuum. It takes a team of people to write and produce a book, and I’m grateful to have such a support group of people around me.
Thanks to Shayla Black, who edited an early version of this book. The Dom Who Loved Me wouldn’t have come out without your support. To Kris Cook, my lovely rock of support. You listen to my every moan and whine without complaint. To the best PA and friend a girl could have, Chloe Vale. To my kids, who put up with the fact that mom is always typing.
And to my husband, because none of this would mean a thing without you.
You can find bonus material and excerpts at the conclusion of this book including an excerpt from the upcoming A Little Harmless Submission from Melissa Schroeder.
Chapter One
Sean Taggart watched the quiet one. Of the three men sitting across from his team in the cool, ultra-modern conference room, the dark-haired man who hadn’t spoken once snared his attention. He was perfectly silent, listening in what appeared to be a submissive fashion. That was only right and proper since he was supposed to be a lowly assistant. Except that he was a lowly assistant wearing thousand dollar shoes. Sean had been in the covert business long enough to know that the little details usually gave a person away.
“The bastard has hit three of my facilities in the last year.” Peter Lincoln, the head of a lumber consortium, slapped at the heavy wooden table.
Sean hid a small smile as he risked a glance at his brother. Ian’s right eyebrow was practically in outer space.
Anyone who knew Ian Taggart would have backed off, but the CEO just kept on. His fist came down on the table again. “That son of a bitch isn’t costing me another dime, I tell you.”
Oh, but he would if Lincoln hired McKay/Taggart Security Services. That bastard, as Lincoln called him, would be costing his lumber company far more than a dime. Sean looked briefly at the men and woman who formed the core of the very selective security team. Ian sat at the head of the table, with his partner Alexander McKay at the other end. McKay looked vaguely amused at Ian’s annoyance. Liam O’Donnell sat to Sean’s left. O’Donnell’s eyes were red. He’d almost certainly been on another bender. They happened more and more often. It wouldn’t affect his work, and that was all that mattered. Eve St. James, resident tough chick, took a long drag off her ever-present latte and drummed her perfect fingernails on the table. Only Jake and Adam had been permitted to miss this little mess of a meeting.
“Perhaps you would like to explain exactly what you need, Mr. Lincoln.” Ian’s voice sent a wash of icy disdain across the room. Big brother was not in a good mood. Sean saw that his brother was also looking at the tall man in the expensive suit. The man was pretending to stare at his notes, his eyes surreptitiously glancing around the room, taking in everything. Sean exchanged a glance with Liam. The Irishman rolled his eyes and shook his head. Sean knew just what he was thinking. Government bureaucrats couldn’t do undercover to save their lives.
Lincoln waved a hand at the second man he’d brought with him. It was the arrogant command of a boss to his lackey. The lackey smiled good-naturedly and passed out folders. “Hello, everyone, I’m Gene, Mr. Lincoln’s personal assistant. I have dossiers on both of the Wright brothers. Matthew is the younger of the two. He’s the one we’re asking you to investigate, though obviously we’re trying to get to Patrick.”
“And Patrick Wright is a member of the Earth League.” Ian’s statement was made without a hint of question behind it.
Gene responded with an apologetic shrug. “My research isn’t perfect. That’s why we felt it was important to bring your firm in. As far as I can tell, Patrick Wright is the head of the Earth League. The group sprang up about ten years ago. They started out benignly enough, protesting pharmaceutical companies, lumber companies, big real estate developments, and SUV manufacturers. Then Patrick Wright joined up and took over. You have to understand, this guy changes names and identities as often as the rest of us change underwear. The police have questioned his followers, and the name of the group’s leader always changes. He’s probably had plastic surgery as well.”
Lincoln’s voice filled the room. “That son of a bitch! Fucking monkeywrenching cost me five million in the last three years alone, and now he’s threatening to bomb my goddamn house.”
The businessman continued to rant. Sean could see Ian‘s patience was wearing thin. It would be nice to see big bro toss this asshole out on his rear. The last thing Sean wanted to do was sit outside this jerk’s house trying to catch some “Save the Earth” whackadoodle. He had better things to do with his time, like perfecting his gnocchi recipe. It was almost there. It just needed a little more oomph to put it over the top. Sean forced himself to focus on the job at hand rather than his hobby. Despite the fact that he couldn’t stand executive types, they did pay well. And he was curious about the government man sitting so still across from him.
He turned to Liam. “Monkeywrenching?”
Liam spoke softly, but Sean could hear him even over the moans and complaints of Lincoln. “It’s a term for the way ecoterrorists mess with big business. They spike trees marked for cross cutting. It destroys very expensive saw blades. Often they destroy machinery. And sometimes they flat out torch places. E.L. is known for getting into places the timber industry thinks are secure and lighting it up. They’re branching out a bit though. Other types of businesses are getting hit.”
Sean nodded at Liam and settled back in his chair to glance through the myriad of photos Gene had collected. There was an old photo of Patrick Wright. He was a large guy in a band uniform. Sean chuckled to himself. If they were using his high school yearbook photo, this Wright guy was damn good at keeping off the radar.
There were several pictures of Matt Wright. He was thirty-nine, a well-dressed businessman. He was blandly good looking, in an all-American-apple-pie fashion. The photos were obviously taken when the subject didn’t know he was being photographed. PI, Sean figured. His hand stopped on one of the pictures. It was Matt Wright walking out of his office building. A woman walked behind him, her head down. She looked a bit plump, soft. Of course, Sean couldn’t tell for certain, given the bulky clothes she wore. Everything she wore was dark, from her slacks to the voluminous sweater that hid every curve. Her eyes were covered with sunglasses, and she carried a nondescript briefcase. The one bit of color on the woman’s body was the bright yellow of the stilettos peeking out from her sensible trousers.
Fuck me shoes. Damn. Any woman who wore those shoes had a streak of the unexpected. He wondered what her underwear looked like. Something delicate and lovely?
Suddenly interested in the case, Sean sat up, flipping through the file looking for any pertinent information. It was well put together, filled with carefully thought out analysis. It almost certainly hadn’t come from that prick Lincoln. “Matt Wright runs a temp agency?”
Lincoln was guzzling down coffee. It gave Gene a chance to respond. “Yes, one of the largest in Texas. His base is in Fort Worth, but his people work all over the state, as well as Louisiana and Arkansas. A couple of years back, he started brokering deals with temp agencies in India for information technology services. He’s branched out to include everything from temporary white collar workers to janitorial services. He’s been very successful.”
“Who is this?” Sean slid the photo of the woman in stilletos Gene’s way.
A smile tugged at Gene’s thin lips. He pointed to the woman in question. “Grace Hawthorne, Matt Wright’s admin. She’s worked for him for six years.”
“Nice shoes.” Liam’s accent sounded flat and Midwestern.
Sean stared at him for a moment. Liam wouldn’t want to give the U.S. government a damn thing to tie him back to Ireland. Only a select group of people got to hear his native lilt.
Liam wrinkled his nose, obviously dismissing the photo. “The rest of her is a bit boring, but it looks like she’s got nice breasts. Is anybody going to have to pork the assistant? She’s older than my usual.”
“Asshole.” Sean stopped just short of punching him. The Irishman wouldn’t know a real woman if she slapped him across the face, and given his predilections, that had probably happened numerous times. Sean enjoyed Liam’s company, but he was a jerk when it came to women. If a woman wasn’t barely eighteen and serving hot wings in shorts that rode up her ass, she wasn’t really female to Liam. Sean far preferred women over girls. If Liam wasn’t eager to take Grace to bed, Sean would be more than happy to.
There was a lot of boring back-and-forth. He ignored it and stared at the picture. Later, he would read Grace’s bio, all the little numbers, facts, and dates that made up her life, yet told him nothing about who she was as a woman. He wished there was a picture of her without the sunglasses. He’d like to know what color her eyes were. Green, he bet, or hazel. Her skin looked very fair, almost luminous. She’d pulled her darkish hair back in a pony tail. In the picture, her style appeared somewhat nondescript, just like everything about the woman. Except those shoes.
“You suspect that Wright is laundering money for his brother’s group?” Liam’s question brought Sean out of his thoughts and reminded him there was a job at hand. He flipped the file closed.
“Suspect is all they can do,” Ian murmured. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be here.” He turned his icy blue eyes to the elephant in the room. “And what does the CIA want with Mr. Patrick Wright?”
Lincoln gasped, but managed to hold on to his coffee cup. Sean turned his attention blatantly to the “lowly assistant” in the expensive shoes. Now that Sean really looked at him, he noticed the man’s watch was a Rolex. Another tell.
The man in question flushed deeply. “I should have changed my shoes.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. You look like a spook.” Ian spit the words, as if that was the worst thing a person could be.
“He’s not a spook.” Liam yawned as though the entire conversation bored him. “He’s a paper pusher.”
The man in question sighed and leaned forward. “Look, you guys are all ex-military or ex-agency. You know the drill. You’ve worked for us in a quiet capacity before. Feel free to refer to me as Mr. Black.”
“Original.” Sean had known several Mr. Blacks over the course of his military career, and he’d learned not to trust a single one. The CIA always protected the identities of its agents, even from the military personnel who did their dirty work.
This particular Mr. Black seemed unfazed by Sean’s disdain. “I’ll leave a cell phone number in case you need to contact me. I’m not officially here, and if anyone asks, I’ll disavow any and all knowledge of this operation.”
“Yeah, you types are good at that.” Sean heard the bitterness in his own voice. He knew what it felt like to have his own CO stand in front of a military judge and flatly lie about the men he was charged to lead.
The spook ignored him. “The CIA is interested in certain connections Patrick Wright potentially made on a trip to Chile a few years back.”
“Drug cartels?” Liam asked. He seemed much more interested now.
“Jihadist groups. They’re popping up all over South America, and it seems they have mutual interests with our homegrown terrorists. I can’t prove anything, but I believe Wright is potentially acting as a go-between to facilitate meetings between the South American groups and the Earth League.”
“That’s a pretty big leap,” Ian frowned as he studied the man in front of him.
Mr. Black sighed and seemed a little weary. “You’re not the only one who thinks that. No one believes me. Until I have concrete proof, I can’t do anything. Because my proof is more than likely here on American soil…”
Sean knew this drill well. “You need someone without the strictures of the Agency. Why not the FBI?”
“And deal with all the interagency crap? No. Mr. Lincoln is amenable to bankrolling this whole op if it gets the Earth League off his back.”
Sean chuckled. “You get the proof you need for a much wider op, and he gets to continue to rape the planet without interference.”
“Fuck you.” Lincoln looked like he was going to come over the top of the table.
“Sir.” Gene tried to contain his boss.
“I wouldn’t if I were you, Lincoln.” The spook’s voice seemed to make the CEO think twice. “That man you’re about to assault is Sean Taggart. He’s a former Green Beret. His brother is the gentleman at the end of the table. You read the file on both of them. I doubt he would kill you here, though you might wish he had.”
The CEO sat back, the arrogance on his face fading for the moment. “I just want you to catch the bastard.”
Ian’s fingers steepled as they often did when he was thinking. “I can’t promise you anything, Mr. Lincoln, but if Matthew Wright is involved with his brother’s activities, we’ll do our best to bring them both down.”
* * * *
Two hours later, Sean sat looking at the file.
“I’m sending you in, Sean.” Ian stood over his desk, his shadow long, but Sean was used to being in his big brother’s shadow. Though he was thirty-two years old, six foot three, and weighed two hundred twenty pounds, everyone on the team still called him Little Tag. Ian was Big Tag.
Sean tapped the photo he’d been staring at for an hour. Something about the set of her mouth fascinated him. He’d learned she was forty and a widow. She’d raised two boys and seemed to have no life outside her family and her job. According to the file, some of her co-workers whispered that she was sleeping with her boss. “She’s the key, you know.”
Ian leaned his big body over the desk. “Of course she is. You get to her, you find out everything about the place. An admin knows everything about her boss. It’s why I don’t have one.”
Something made him hesitate. She looked almost sad in the photo. “Maybe you should send in Jake and Adam. Their pretend gay act always wins the women’s trust.”
Ian burst into a rare fit of laughter. “I’ll be sure to let them know you appreciate their undercover efforts. As it happens, Jake and Adam will be your backup. If you can’t manage to get close to the woman, perhaps they can. A lot of women like to be in between those two.”
“I’ll handle it.” No way was he letting those two get close to Grace. There was something about her. “I’ll get what you need.” Let that be it. Walk away now, big brother.
“You need to think about dating.” Ian’s voice grated like broken glass underfoot.
“Fuck me.” Sean’s head hit the top of his desk.
“Yes, that would be the point. It’s been a year since you last took a sub.”
Sean groaned. “Would it work if I told you this is absolutely none of your business?”
Ian shrugged. “Probably not. I just don’t understand. Rona was a lovely sub.”
Rona had been a clingy, whiny painslut who didn’t want the heavy burden of anything so difficult as choosing her own clothes for the day, much less having an actual job or ambitions. “I’m not like you, Ian. I don’t want a slave.”
“You don’t want the responsibility.” Coming from Ian, it sounded like an accusation.
Sean felt his eyes narrow. His brother just didn’t understand. Not everyone was as utterly hard-core as Ian. “I love taking care of a woman, you know that. I’m just not attracted to the clingy ones who need me to do everything for them. I want her to need me, but not need me for everything, know what I mean? I want a smart, independent woman who just happens to enjoy submitting to me sexually. Is that too much to ask?”
There was a snort, and then his brother’s sarcasm came spilling out. “It can be your eHarmony ad, bro. Wanted: smart, independent woman to play at D/s. Must like handcuffs, spankings, and anal sex.”
Sean fought the urge to growl. “Don’t make fun of me. At least I haven’t run through every submissive at the club.”
Ian’s easy shrug let Sean know he wasn’t getting to him. “Some of them twice. Unlike you, I have realistic expectations about how a relationship is going to go. It’s best to keep things short and sweet, with a contract in place, so everyone knows how to behave.”
Yes, Ian would think that way. Of course, he hadn’t always thought like that. Ian had been engaged once. No one talked about Holly anymore, not if they wanted to keep their head attached to their body. “Just stay out of my love life.”
“As you don’t seem to have one, I think that will be easy.” Ian stood up. His blue eyes were not unkind as they looked at Sean. “I’m going to head out to the club. I’m meeting the rest of the team there. Why don’t you come with us? You don’t need to start this tonight. Your meeting with Wright won’t be for another few weeks or so. You’ll be in deep cover. I talked to a friend in Chicago, and you’re all set. You’re going in as a man negotiating a contract for labor services. You’ll need to work at Kelvin Incorporated for a few weeks to make it look good.”
Yes, a couple of weeks as a corporate drone sounded very exciting. He should go to the club with Ian. He could pick up a sub for the night and spend a few hours forgetting the fact that the next several weeks would be dull as dirt. Of course, the last couple of years had been long, tedious jobs punctuated with the occasional person who tried to kill him. He was used to boredom. His hand found the file, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “No, I want to read over this.”
Ian shrugged. “All right, little brother. Jake and Adam are heading to Fort Worth tomorrow. I’ve already gotten them interviews. Luckily, Wright is always looking for sales staff. Liam is going down to do recon and set up a little base of operations. They’ll make contact when you get there. We can go over it tomorrow. Don’t stay here all night.”
Sean huffed to let his brother know he didn’t need the parenting. One by one his co-workers came by and offered to keep him company. They said goodnight when he turned them down. Sean smiled and went back to his research. She was the key. Grace Hawthorne would break the case; Grace with her sad mouth and those intriguing yellow shoes.
It was a long time before he left his desk.
Chapter Two
“Hello.”
The deep masculine voice brought Grace’s attention up from her work. She lifted her head up, and up, and up. Wow. The man was huge. She couldn’t help but stare. He was dressed in an impeccably-cut dark suit. His snowy white dress shirt stood out against the black of the suit and emphasized the brilliant blue of his silk tie. His shoulders were so broad, she would bet he’d had the suit cut specifically for him. His shoulders tapered down to a lean waist and hips that flowed into legs that she bet were powerfully muscled. All of that she could handle, but then she got to his face.
His jaw was perfectly cut, as though someone had sculpted him from granite, chiseling away all the unneeded bits to leave him with a stark, masculine perfection. His blue eyes were icy, though not cold. As he stood looking down at her, he ran a big hand through his blonde hair. It was slicked back, though some of it fell over his brow giving him a boyish charm to go with the utterly male sexuality he exuded. He shouldn’t be in a suit. He should be wearing one of those helmets with horns on it, wielding a sword while he raided villages. He was a Viking god, and his lips quirked up faintly as she looked up at him. It emphasized the unbearably cute cleft in his chin.
“Hi.” It was all that would come out of her mouth. Several other greetings leapt to mind. Please take me roughly was one of them. She decided a simple hello might be the best way to go. She’d been reading far too many romances. She needed to cool down.
“Hello.” The Viking god had a slow, Southern accent. “I have a lunch appointment with Mr. Wright.”
Grace laughed. She couldn’t help it. Grace had learned long ago that she wasn’t very good at social deception. She glanced down at her calendar. “Of course you do. You must be Sean Johansson. I’ll let Mr. Wright know you’re here.”
His hand shot out as she was reaching for the phone. A grin played on his unbelievably sensual lips. Men shouldn’t have lips like that. “I have to know. What’s so funny? Is the suit bad? I admit I can have terrible taste in clothing. I usually wear jeans and T-shirts. My mother once accused me of buying all my clothes at concerts.”
She shook her head and tried not to think about how her skin tingled where he’d touched her. She sighed. Men were needy creatures. She decided to treat the Viking god like she did every other male in her life, with an amused nonchalance. “The suit is more than fine, and I think you know that. Your eyes appear to function, Mr. Johansson. Tell me, did the girls at reception faint when you walked in?”
A slight flush stained his high cheekbones. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was perfectly nice to them.”
“I bet you’re nice to all the girls.” She winked as she said it. It was a little fun flirtation. It livened up her day. She’d discovered men liked to flirt with a woman who had absolutely no expectations of them.
His expression took a serious turn. Those light blue eyes pinned her, and for the briefest of moments, Grace felt like a rabbit in the company of a hungry wolf. “I prefer women.”
She swallowed once and then was saved by the door to her boss’s office opening suddenly. The sound cracked through the air. Grace hadn’t realized just how quiet it had been before. Evan Parnell strode out of the office, his boots making angry contact with the hardwood floors. Matthew Wright followed him.
“Damn it. We need to talk about this.” Matt’s voice held an edge of desperation.
Evan stopped and held out a hand as though to stop Matt from speaking. Matt’s mouth closed. Grace could feel the tension between the men. She got out of her chair and started to walk toward them, hoping to calm the situation, but Sean Johansson was suddenly in her way. His big body was a wall between her and the arguing men. He’d moved fast. One minute he was in front of the desk, and then next he was a bulwark between her and whatever he apparently feared was about to happen. Grace tried to push her way around him. He turned to her, and the command was there, written plainly on his handsome face.
Stay where you are.
Grace thought briefly about arguing. Johansson’s eyes narrowed, and she backed down. She tried not to think about what the dominant look on his face did to her. Yep, she was going to stop reading romances. She was seeing things that weren’t there. Johansson was simply a gentleman who didn’t want to see her get hurt.
Evan’s muddy brown eyes swept across the room. Grace had never understood why Matt had hired Parnell in the first place. He was rude, difficult to deal with, and far too intense for Grace’s tastes. His face was always flat, as though the world was never enough for him, and he found not an ounce of joy in it.
“We’ll talk about it later. But I mean to have my way in this, Mr. Wright. You won’t like the consequences of backing out of our deal.” Parnell’s voice was dark, like molasses running over concrete. He turned to Grace. “Grace, I’ll take my check now.”
She looked to her boss. “But…”
“Just get the check, Grace.” Matt’s entire body was tight.
She wanted to argue that Parnell wasn’t due a check until the fifteenth, but something about her boss’s body language sent her to the locked drawer of her desk. The minute she sat down, the Viking eased up. He leaned casually against the side of her desk.
While Grace wrote out the check, Matt seemed to figure out that they weren’t alone in his elegant office. He straightened his suit as he checked out Sean Johansson.
“I’m sorry. Is Grace helping you?”
Parnell moved to the door, waiting. He didn’t look back, merely stood there, his arms crossed over his chest. He was a thin man, but strong. He wasn’t dressed in anything like a suit, but that didn’t surprise Grace. He always showed up in jeans, a flannel shirt, and a trucker hat. She supposed that was why he had to use Wright Temps to contract his janitorial services. He wasn’t a very professional man.
“Grace has been very helpful.” The Viking’s tone was smooth and calming. Grace knew it was a trick of her own libido, but she thought she could hear approval in his voice.
Grace tore the check out of the ledger. She stood up. “Matt, this is Sean Johansson. He’s your lunch appointment.”
Matt shook his head as though clearing it. His hand shot out toward the big Viking. “Of course. Please forgive me. You’re with Kelvin, right?”
“I am. I’m here to get the best deal possible out of you.”
Grace moved to get around Mr. Johansson. He looked down at her and, without asking, took the check out of her hand. He crossed the office in two strides. Parnell’s eyebrows arched, but he took the check. He wasted no time in leaving the office.
Johansson turned and smiled at Matt. “Now, I seem to remember we had a lunch appointment. I made reservations at Blue Moon. I find negotiations go so much smoother with a good margarita, don’t you?”
Matt let out a long breath, the previous tension leaving his body, and in its place was the charming man Grace knew so well. “Absolutely. I can tell we’re going to get along, Mr. Johansson.”
“Sean, please.”
“Of course, and I’m Matt. We should probably be on a first name basis since we’ll be calling each other bastard and asshole by the end of the month.”
Sean threw back his head. His booming laugh did things to Grace’s insides. She was deeply surprised because she was pretty sure she’d buried the sensual parts of her with her husband. She turned away from the sight of Sean. He was just a kid. He looked to be roughly thirty years old. He was only a few years older than her sons.
“Come on into my office, Sean. We can talk for a minute before we get to those margaritas.” Matt held open the door, and the Viking walked through. Grace felt the absence of his presence immediately. Matt’s well-coiffed head poked back out. He grinned at her. “Gracie, can you clear the rest of my appointments, babe?”
“Of course.” She glanced down at the calendar she kept on her desk. There was only one appointment, and she could foist that off on a manager or take it herself. Matt gave her a thumbs up and disappeared.
Grace laughed. It was utterly ridiculous, but she could breathe again. She quickly called one of the more competent managers. He was more than happy to take the meeting for Matt. It would be nice to have a quiet office for the afternoon. She thought of all the things she could catch up on. There were any number of projects she need to work on, so why did she find herself sitting at her desk, staring into space, listening for the sound of Sean Johansson’s voice?
“Holy crap, Gracie, did you see that?”
Grace looked up into her best friend’s face. Kayla Green’s mouth was hanging open. Grace was just waiting for the drool to start. There was no question in Grace’s mind that Kayla was talking about Sean Johansson. Grace shushed her. “He’s in Matt’s office.”
“Are you serious? Can I go in?”
“No. Back down, girl. He’s a client. You can’t jump the clients.”
Kayla set her hip against the desk and a saucy smile covered her sweet face. “I bet that one is used to getting jumped. I swear, I thought I was dreaming when he walked in, Grace. He looks like a…I don’t know what he looks like, but that man is sex on a stick.”
“A Viking.” The words were out of her mouth before she could call them back.
Kayla’s brown eyes went wide. “Oh my god, has your libido come back online? Hallelujah! Now, I think the Viking is a little much to start with, but I have some men in mind.”
“Whoa! Don’t you start on that.” If she didn’t put a stop to it, Kayla would have her own version of speed dating going in under five minutes. She would be fielding calls about dates from everyone from Kayla’s deadbeat brother to the UPS guy. Kayla collected single men’s numbers like others collected bobblehead dolls or stamps. “I’m old, not blind, Kay. I’d have to be blind not to notice that young man.”
“He isn’t that young, Grace. And you aren’t old. Forty isn’t old.”
“Forty with two kids in college sure as hell feels old. I doubt that puppy in there has even contemplated having kids. He’s a boy.”
Kayla shook her head. “You were wrong about being blind. That was a man if I ever saw one.” Kayla looked like she wanted to argue further, but simply sighed. “Fine. I get it. You’re willing to read about dirty, nasty sex, but you won’t let yourself have some. One of these days you’re going to wake up and realize that life has passed you by. I’ll be right by your side telling you I told you so.”
“Gee, that sounds lovely, Kay.” And possibly prophetic.
“If the boss is busy, what do you say we go to the salad bar for lunch and then get our toes done?”
Grace smiled up at her friend, eager to accept the invitation.
“I’m afraid the pedicure is going to have to wait, ladies.” Sean Johansson stood in the doorway, his big body filling the space to bursting. He leaned negligently against the wall, and Grace had the sudden worry that he’d heard way too much of their conversation. “Grace is going to join us for lunch.”
“I am?” The words croaked out of her throat.
His smile was steady and sure. “You are.”
Sean moved out of the way as Matt walked up behind him.
“Come on, Grace. Sean here thinks we need your brilliant brain to help us poor males out.” He was already pulling off his tie. If this was anything like Matt’s other lunchtime meetings, he wouldn’t come back to the office. Grace really hoped he would be sober at the end of the day. “And Gracie, bring something along to take notes.”
Matt was out the door and waiting by the elevator before Grace could grab her purse.
Sean Johansson waited patiently by her desk. His hand came out gallantly to take the large briefcase she carried just about everywhere. He briefly introduced himself to Kayla, and then his hand came out again to help Grace from her chair. His big hand enveloped her small one as he steadied her. He held her hand for a second or two longer than needed. When he let go, Grace felt the loss of his warmth. He offered her his arm as though they were a lord and lady from another time.
“Shall we?”
No. No. They really shouldn’t. It was a bad idea. Grace shook it off. He was a businessman looking for a good deal. She was the boss’s admin. Every halfway decent corporate executive knew the admin was the lifeline to the boss. Grace plastered a bright smile on her face and gave Kay a wink. She could flirt just as well as Sean Johansson could.
“I believe I could use a margarita, Mr. Johansson.”
“It’s Sean, Grace. I’ve heard this place has the best in North Texas. The drinks better be good because I would hate to disappoint you.” He started to lead her out. “And Grace, nice shoes.”
She looked down at the purple peep toes she’d selected this morning. They were the only color in her outfit. She was wearing a black skirt and gray top. The purple seemed to give her a little personality. Now she wondered what those purple, four-inch heels would look like propped on Sean Johansson’s shoulders.
She was definitely going to need that margarita.
* * * *
Evan Parnell strode outside the building. He looked up and down the sidewalk and then carefully planted himself behind a large bush. He pulled out a cigarette, just another guy on a smoke break in a city that didn’t let a man’s vice inside its sanctified walls. He watched as the Mercedes pulled out of the parking lot with three occupants inside.
Damn it, he didn’t like this. They were so close, and Matt had to try to reel in some asshole corporate account? Matt should be concentrating on the goddamn Bryson Building. That was where they would score. Everything else was a distraction.
And distractions cost lives. Of course, they could be helpful on occasion. He chuckled as he thought about the last distraction he’d created. He’d enjoyed his brief time as an “ecoterrorist.” It had put the Agency off him and gotten him a small army of devoted “soldiers.” He had a couple of true believers, and they made excellent pawns. All he had to do was start a couple of fires, ruin some equipment, and suddenly no one was worried about his real activities.
He let his eyes drift across the skyline. He could see the Bryson Building. It was a large, nondescript building like most of the structures that made up Fort Worth’s skyline. It was absolutely perfect because it housed the Texas Natural Gas Corporation. Not that he actually gave a damn about TNG, but it was the perfect cover. He couldn’t see the west side. It was in a small office on the west side of the building that he would make his final, biggest score, and then he could retire.
In another week or so, he would be in Southeast Asia soaking up the sun and fucking as many girls as his dick could handle. Well, he would be if his brother didn’t screw everything up.
Evan took a long drag off his cigarette. He wasn’t looking forward to another round of plastic surgery, but it would be necessary. Evan Parnell would have to disappear the same way Patrick Wright had, and this time he wouldn’t have Agency resources. They’d trained him well. Maybe if they’d paid him as well as they had trained him, he wouldn’t have gone rogue.
He thought about the check in his pocket. Grace Hawthorne might not know it, but she’d been laundering his ill-gotten gains for years. She knew an awful lot about his banking practices. If his ex-handler ever caught up to him, she was a weak link. If Eli Nelson found him, he was screwed, and what Grace knew or didn’t know wouldn’t matter. Still, maybe he should think about taking her out. An accident. Yes, that could be arranged. He pulled out his cell and quickly called one of his loyal soldiers.
Grace taken care of, Evan tossed the cigarette aside, not bothering to put it out. He didn’t care. He had a check to cash.
* * * *
Sean stared at Grace over the empty plates. She was flirting with the waiter. The young idiot was new to his job and had fumbled his way through taking their orders until Grace had turned her vibrant hazel eyes on him and starting talking to him in that ridiculously sexy twang of hers. He’d almost immediately calmed down, and the rest of the meal had been smooth sailing.
She was something else. The photos of her didn’t come close to doing the woman justice. In the photos, he’d seen a woman approaching middle age. The clothes she’d worn had made her seem a bit plump, and the expression on her face had been a little sad. The pictures didn’t show how her skin glowed in the late afternoon light. Her hair, which had seemed a flat brown before, was actually more red than anything else. It was pulled back in a ponytail, but Sean was sure it would reach far past her shoulders when he it took down. Little tendrils, waves of auburn, kept escaping from the brutal captivity of the scrunchie to frame her face. He was fascinated with her throaty laugh. When Grace Hawthorne smiled, she could light up a room.
Sean found himself slightly jealous of the attention she was fawning on the waiter until he realized she didn’t mean a thing by it. Years of training as a Dom had taught him to read a woman’s every nuance. She viewed the waiter almost as a little boy she was being kind to. There was nothing truly sexy about the way she flirted with the server. She wasn’t thinking about finding a quiet place and tangling herself around the kid. She wasn’t considering wrapping that gloriously glossed mouth around the kid’s cock to see how fast she could make him come. She certainly wasn’t wondering how to get the damn waiter’s mouth to close over her wet pussy.
Sean was thinking about all of those things, although he’d placed himself as Grace’s partner instead of the waiter, and it was making it very hard to concentrate. The way Grace smiled at the waiter and patted his hand put Sean at ease. Then set him on edge when he figured out she viewed him the exact same way.
He needed to fix that little problem and damn soon.
“You need to think about moving a good portion of your project development to Chile.”
Matt Wright’s declaration had Sean’s mind wrestling control back from his cock. It reminded him he had a job to do. “Chile? I hadn’t considered it. I thought most IT offshoring went to India these days.”
Wright’s hand came out in a negligent gesture. It was sloppy, and his speech was becoming slurred. “It does, but South America is trying to get into the game. There are a lot of highly-educated South Americans looking for good work. Many of the people at the location I’m thinking of actually have degrees in programming from American colleges. I can give you the numbers and backgrounds, of course.”
Grace dutifully made the note, but Sean hadn’t missed the slight tightening of her jaw when her boss had introduced the topic. She had misgivings about the South American projects. He would remember to question her about it later. She wouldn’t say anything in the middle of a meeting, he guessed. She seemed very loyal. Sean wondered if her loyalty would transfer from her boss to her lover.
Sean played hard to get. He needed to be a bit elusive to draw out these negotiations. “I don’t know. We’ve been pretty happy with the Indian offices.”
Wright waved a disdainful hand and took another drag off his drink. He was halfway to stone drunk. “I can cut your labor costs by fifteen percent and keep your workers in the same time zone.”
Sean nodded and pretended to consider it. It was interesting that Wright was trying to sell him on the idea of Chile. According to his research, Wright’s agency had brokered several deals to offshore IT departments to India. Chile had only come up in the last year. “I’d like to see those numbers.”
Sean’s hand curled around the margarita he’d been nursing for an hour. He noticed that Grace had finished her raspberry swirl, but politely declined a second. Wright began to extol the virtues of cheap South American labor, and Sean allowed himself a moment to ponder the problem of Grace.
He wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off her. He didn’t see why he should bother. It was clear to him that she wasn’t the boss’s mistress. She behaved much more like his long-suffering wife than a mistress. Wright might depend on the lovely widow, but he wasn’t sleeping with her. He was almost sure of it. Sean had detected the slightest hint of jealously from Wright when he’d led Grace to the elevator. It had been little more than a flaring of his eyes when Matt noticed the courtly way Sean was leading her. It was gone by the time they reached the lobby. Ever since, Wright had called her babe several times and taken the seat beside her in the booth as though it was his right, but he didn’t touch her. Sean had been happy to slide into the booth across from the object of his study. It gave him the chance to really observe her.
He had many questions for Grace, but they would have to wait until he had her in a much more intimate setting. He would give it a day, and then invite her to dinner with him tomorrow. He’d watched the pleasure she’d taken in her food and the sweet drink she’d ordered. She’d savored every morsel. Her eyes had roamed the large platter of decadent desserts, but finally she’d said no. It was clear to Sean that she hadn’t wanted to say no. She was most likely giving in to the pressures of social constraints. She probably thought she needed to diet.
If they had been alone, Sean would have ordered the chocolate cake and fed her himself. He would have convinced her that taking pleasure in the dessert would please him. He would have watched the way her tongue came out to taste the bittersweet frosting before enveloping the cake in her mouth. Then he would kiss her, long and slow, the sweetness transferring from her mouth to his.
Better yet, he would simply cook everything for her, each course another level of his seduction.
He answered Wright when the man seemed to require Sean’s participation, but his eyes rarely left Grace. He would be good for her. She was very lonely. She needed someone to shake her up a little. Sean would be good to her in and out of bed. When the time came, he would gracefully leave her. He would keep it light and fun. She wouldn’t regret sleeping with him.
Grace smiled at him as the waiter took the check. Sean couldn’t help the little hitch in his breath.
It was almost four when he helped Grace up from her seat. Matt stumbled a little. They made it to the car and stuffed Matt in the back. Grace tried to get in with him, but Sean held the passenger door open. After the barest of hesitation, she slid in, and he shut the door.
“I guess I’ll drive him home.” She looked out the window as they drove back toward downtown from the Stockyards.
“You could leave him in the lobby.” It was an eminently logical solution to Sean’s mind. Matt Wright had been all business at the start of the meal, but he’d ordered drink after drink. It was completely unprofessional.
“I’d just have to deal with him in the morning.” She sighed, and he sensed a deep tiredness in her. She turned her hazel eyes on him. “He’s a good man.”
Sean doubted that. “I’m sure he is. Is he a good boss?”
Now there was no hesitation. “He’s a great boss. He was the only one willing to take a chance on me. My husband died a few years back. I hadn’t had a job the whole time we were married. The insurance paid for a lot, but I still needed to go to work. Matt was my thirty-first interview.”
“That must have been a relief.” It explained her loyalty to the idiot.
“You have no idea.” She glanced into the backseat. Matt’s head was back. “He can’t handle his liquor. It’s the bane of my existence. I keep hoping he’ll get married, and his wife can deal with him when he’s drunk.”
“Just give me his address, and I’ll make sure he gets home.” It would serve a dual purpose. He could help out Grace and potentially search the bastard’s house.
She shook her head vigorously. “No, I’ll do it. I appreciate the offer, but it’s my responsibility. Maybe next time, don’t let him keep ordering drinks. We could have moved the meeting back to the office two hours ago.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I promise to give that great consideration. I have to say, though, that it tends to slide the scale in my favor.”
“Not really. He never signs anything until he’s sober. Trust me, I’ve been around him long enough to know not to ask him for a raise after a couple of martinis.”
Sean pulled the borrowed Benz into the parking lot. He found a space a row over from Grace’s little Honda hybrid. Of course, he didn’t let her know he knew which one she owned. She pointed out her car and started herding Matt toward it.
“You won’t regret working with us.” Matt’s words were firm even as he wobbled on his feet a bit. He leaned heavily into Grace, his arm winding around her waist. “You’re so good to me, Gracie. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Matt slumped forward into her passenger seat. Grace closed the door, and a wan smile crossed her lips. “He really is a good man. Don’t let this affect your opinion of him. He’s alone in the world. He lost his parents and then his brother.”
Sean allowed his eyes to go soft and sympathetic. So Matt had told her his brother was dead? “Really? He’s young to have lost a brother.”
“His brother was the only family he had left, and from what I can tell, they weren’t very close. Matt told me his brother, Patrick, travelled a lot. He was killed in Europe. Anyway, it affected Matt.” Grace opened her trunk and placed her briefcase inside. She slammed it shut and awkwardly put her hand out. “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for lunch and everything.”
A thousand questions perched on the tip of his tongue, but he decided to play it cool. He would only lose her if he pushed her too fast. He took her hand in between both of his. He stood very close so she had to look up. “I enjoyed it, Grace.”
Her voice was a little bit breathless as she stared up at him. It wasn’t anything like the sure, flirty voice she’d been using before. “I did, too. And I’ll get those numbers ready for you. Anything you need, just give me a call.”
“I promise.” He intended to call her a lot.
Sean let go of her hand. She started to walk around him to enter her car when a motorcycle roared through the parking lot. It came out of nowhere, a bullet on a path to destruction. The loud rev of the engine blasted through the quiet late afternoon. The scene played out in his mind like a little movie. The motorcycle was on a direct, unwavering path. It would hit Grace, and her body would strike the concrete at an alarming rate. Listening only to his instincts, Sean launched himself at Grace, placing them in a roll that threw them into the car parked beside her Honda. Grace didn’t fight him. Her arms wound around his chest. She was soft and compliant against him. It made it very easy to maneuver her the way he wanted to go. He twisted as hard as he could so his back took the brunt of the impact.
The motorcycle sped off without stopping, an angry insect pissed off that it hadn’t stung someone.
Sean turned to try to get the license plate number, but Grace’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Her hands were on his chest, her fingers like little butterflies caressing him through his shirt.
“Thank you, Sir.”
Everything inside him stilled at that one word. Sir. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t the kind moniker one placed on a stranger. This “Sir” was breathy and held a singular promise. It was the habit of a submissive to honor her dominant partner. Every ounce of blood in Sean’s body rushed straight to his cock.
Grace laughed. It seemed to break the spell. “What a jerk. He didn’t even stop to see if we were okay. Thanks again.” Grace pulled out of his arms before Sean could protest. Her alabaster skin was flushed a vibrant red as she quickly got into the Honda and pulled out of the space.
Sean was left with an aching hard-on and the knowledge that the next few weeks were going to be anything but dull.
Chapter Three
Three hours later, Sean slid into a booth at the back of the dive bar where he was set to meet Adam and Jake. He selected a booth at the back corner that gave him a view of the room. Brewski’s was just the kind of crap bar one would expect in the suburbs, but then he wanted to drive by Grace Hawthorne’s house later tonight. He’d already driven past Matthew Wright’s. It always paid to know the lay of the land.
He thanked the waitress who brought him a longneck. He didn’t dare order a Scotch. He doubted what they would bring him here would even vaguely resemble Scotch, though he passed a glance over the menu. He wondered what Grace was doing. He wondered who Grace was doing and if she’d had her gorgeous body tied up while they were doing it.
He didn’t like the jealous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Grace was a sub. He knew it. She was someone’s submissive. He doubted it was Wright. The man wasn’t a Dom. Sean fully intended to find out who owned Grace’s loyalty. It couldn’t possibly be too serious. She didn’t wear a collar, not even a small necklace to signify that she belonged to someone. No Dom worth his whip would let a sweet subbie like Grace walk around completely uncollared.
The door opened and Jake and Adam walked in, their entrance punctuated with a blast of wretchedly hot air. The September night hadn’t cooled off a bit.
But then neither had Sean.
Adam immediately walked to the bar and started to flirt with the woman there. Jacob Dean’s razor-focused stare found Sean. He moved through the crowded bar with the grace of a predator. Those dark eyes scanned the bar for any potential threats before he slid into the booth. Sean was surprised at how nice it was to see his former army buddies. They had been on assignment and out of the office for much of the last year.
“Hey, Sarge. Good to see you again. I sent our report directly to your e-mail, coded, of course, sir.” Despite the fact that they had left the Green Berets years before, Jake had never gotten out of the habit of deferring to him. Sean had been Jake’s warrant officer in their Special Forces team. Jake had been the intelligence and operations officer, while Adam had been the sergeant in charge of communications. “How did the meeting with Wright go?”
Adam Miles had two beers in his hand when he sat down beside Jake. He handed one to his partner and took a long swallow of the other. Adam was a different story. He had never shown much respect in the first place. He certainly didn’t bother to now. “Who gives a fuck about Wright? Tell me how the meeting with our luscious little Grace went.”
The longneck hit the table with more force than Sean meant to use. “Don’t play your games with Grace.” The thought of Grace with Jake and Adam made his hand itch to beat the shit out of his two closest friends. “She better think you’re gay.”
Jake laughed. “Oh, she does. But then they usually do.”
“Right up to the point they find themselves in between us, howling as we show them the pleasures of double penetration.” Adam held up his beer in a mock toast. His lips spread in a decadent grin. “You would be surprised how well the gay thing works, man. Women open up when they think you’re gay. They fall a little in love. Sure enough, the next thing we hear is something about how she wishes we weren’t gay and bam, wish fulfilled.”
“Sometimes we don’t even need to play the gay card. We only do that undercover. Sometimes honesty works. There are women out there who like to be shared. Lots of them. That little lieutenant sure liked it.” There was a warm affection in Jake’s brown eyes as he obviously remembered the good time.
Sean had to roll his eyes. “I can’t believe the two of you joke about that. What am I saying? You joke about everything. Most people wouldn’t joke about the incident that got them dishonorably discharged.”
Adam shrugged. “I thought we were very honorable. She came at least four times before we went off.”
“The general wasn’t happy when he walked in on us. I think he’d been planning to make a move on her himself. Asshole.” Jake sighed. “Anyway, I like this job better. Big Tag doesn’t care what we do in the bedroom, and he’s better armed than the US Army.”
Big Tag didn’t have any right to question other people’s kinks. He had enough of his own. Of course, so did Sean. He was just going to make certain Grace Hawthorne indulged in his kinks, not the ménage boys’. “Have you made contact with Grace?”
Sean didn’t like the grin that crossed Adam’s face. There was far too much intimate knowledge in it. “While you’ve been in the Windy City, we’ve been here. We’ve been her happy hour buddies for the last several weeks. She apparently likes to take new employees under her wing, show them the ropes. She quickly decided that Jake and I were of a homosexual bent and introduced us.”
“I’m playing hard to get.” Jake said, taking a drag off the longneck.
“As if. We flipped a coin, and I have to be the softie this time. I hate that, although it seems to work with Grace. Anyway, she’s very happy with her matchmaking. This last weekend, she invited us out to her place for dinner. She made a heavenly lasagna. It wasn’t as good as yours, of course, but I was more than willing to spend an extra hour or two in the gym to work it off. Of course, I would have preferred a different workout.”
Sean leaned over. He hoped his face was as intimidating as he felt.
Jake put a hand between them. “Stop it, Adam. He’s got it bad, and you know why. She’s a sweetheart.” Sean sat back. “And he hasn’t gotten laid in a long time.”
“Hey.” What was up with everyone commenting on his love life, or lack thereof? It was starting to get annoying. “This is a job, and I think I’ll fare better with Grace than the two of you.”
Adam ran his free hand through his curly brown and gold hair. “What makes you think that? We can be very charming when we want to be. We’ve been pretty good at getting close to her so far. You didn’t receive a dinner invite yet, did you?”