Beyond Wilder

by Leigh Tudor

  Fuck, he knew this was too good to be true.

  “What do you want?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I want to see my sister.”

  The tension in his shoulders returned. “Sure,” he said, pushing his palms to his knees to stand, avoiding her glare. “I’ll bring Cara as soon as I can.”

  “You do that, and then bring me Loren.”

  Yep, too fucking good to be true. He expelled a sigh. “I can’t do that, Mercy.”

  “I think you underestimate your super-spy skills.”

  “I no longer work in that . . . capacity.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I quit.”

  “You quit?”

  He nodded. “I just closed on a business. I’m a business owner. Needed to show I was serious about having a job with less risk and more security for the kids.”

  “What company would anyone even want to own in the metropolis of Wilder?”

  “Wilder Hardware.”

  Her eyes widened to saucers. “Geez Louise, a girl goes down for a quick coma nap and wakes up to find she’s got a fiancé with a ready-made family. Which, by the way, I look awfully good after chucking out three babies, and that her hunka, hunka burning love bought the business her temporarily incarcerated sister worked at.” Her beautiful amber eyes grew even wider. “Does Alec know you bought Wilder Hardware?”

  “He’s my business partner.”

  “You’re co-owners?”

  “That’s right,” he replied, sliding his hands into his back pockets. “Henry Sterling was ready to retire to Florida, and Alec and I decided this would be a good career move for us and our families.”

  “Hold on, does Loren know all this?”

  “I doubt it. She cut a deal with the feds, and at the top of her list was that you get medical attention, and second was no verbal or physical contact with Alec.”

  “Oooh, harsh.”

  “He’s not handling it well.” Trevor looked down at the floor, trying to decide how much he should share about what went down right before leaving Wilder.

  When he saw the level of concern percolating behind those beautiful eyes as she chewed her lip, he couldn’t hold back. She deserved to know the part he played in her sister’s current situation. The one piece of information he was holding back. “Jasper Bancroft was fed information to help our cause. Information that wasn’t true but earned us some credibility points.”

  “Like what?”

  “He was told we had someone on the inside pulling intel.”

  “Alec.”

  He nodded. “Pretty sure Jasper took the opportunity to share that with Loren the day we took her away.”

  Her hand went to her chest. “That would have devastated her.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that was the intent.”

  She fidgeted with the bedsheets as she looked away from him. “Halstead underestimated how determined Loren was to ensure we never stopped caring for one another. That we remained close-knit sisters who looked out for one another when no one else would. She was the glue that held us together, and trust me, she paid the price for it on a number of occasions.”

  Trevor took a couple of steps toward the bed. “I . . . regret not giving her the benefit of the doubt. For the record, Alec did.”

  She gifted him with a smile that finally made it to her eyes. “Well then, Sugarplum, I guess you’ll have the chance to tell her that when you bring her to me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “The wait is long, my dream of you does not end.”

  ― Nuala O’Faolain

  Alec woke to someone banging on his hotel door.

  He grabbed the pistol on the nightstand and checked the time on his phone. It was two o’clock in the morning. This better be good, or the person on the other side of the door was going to have a Glock shoved up his ass. He’d gotten little to no sleep trying to find ways to help Loren and was on the verge of staging a kidnapping. Job security and federal consequences be damned.

  He yanked on a pair of sweats while muttering expletives and unlocked the door.

  His former colleague, now business partner, stood in the hallway as if dressed for an executive meeting in a shirt and tie.

  Trevor pushed his way in. “Jesus Christ, put on a shirt, Wilder.”

  “I have at least four more hours of sleepless tossing to get through. Why would I be wearing a shirt?”

  “Because I need you dressed and ready to work,” Trevor replied, opening the mirrored sliding closet doors and pulling an M2M-approved suit from the closet. A fitted black suit that wasn’t supposed to draw attention but managed to do the complete opposite.

  “What the hell are you doing in New Mexico?” Alec asked as Trevor matched a tie to a blue button-down. “You’re supposed to be in Wilder finalizing our LLC and meeting with attorneys while I keep an eye on Loren. Or did you forget you quit?”

  “Actually,” Trevor said, throwing the shirt and tie on the bed, “I gave Director Birch my two weeks’ notice less than two weeks ago.”

  “Yeah, so you could get paid for the vacation time you’ve accrued,” Alec said, sitting on the edge of his bed and pulling on the shirt. “What kind of workaholic, company-man asshole accrues twelve weeks of vacation anyway?”

  “Apparently, the kind you want to go into business with. Now get dressed. I need your help,” he said, pulling back his suit jacket and resting his hands on his hips. “You’ve got your security card to get to the fifth floor?”

  Alec’s attention was immediately captured. That was Loren’s floor.

  “I have access, not sure why. I get stopped by security guards before I can step into the hallway. You’d think she was under the witness protection program with the way the feds are policing her.”

  “I need your key card to get to her floor.”

  “So why do you need me?” Alec asked, standing to pull on his pants. “Let alone dressed like the lead in a spy movie.”

  “I’m taking Loren to see Mercy.”

  Dread crept in Alec’s chest at the thought of Mercy taking a turn for the worse. The woman was almost as infuriating as her sister, but he had grown attached to the little troublemaker. “Ah shit, tell me she’s okay. I thought she was out of the woods.”

  Trevor nodded. “She’s fine. Other than the fact that she’s blackmailing me.”

  Alec lowered his chin to his chest in abject relief and then lifted it back up with a grin as he absorbed that last bit of information. “Oh, yeah? I gotta hear this.”

  “Can we please discuss the extortion details later? I need you to take me to the fifth floor and then meet me at the back door exit from the kitchen in twenty.”

  Alec was confused. “Cantrell is standing guard at the exit door.”

  “Russell owes me a favor for rescuing his little sister from that gang upstart in Brooklyn. He’s taking over Cantrell’s shift in twenty and turning a blind eye while we hustle Loren into a waiting Escalade.”

  “Who’s driving the Escalade?”

  “You are.” Trevor pulled a car fob from his pant pocket and tossed it to him. Alec caught it without hesitation.

  “It’s parked on the west side of the storage warehouse next door.”

  The thought of finally being close to Loren hit him like a sledgehammer to his chest. His blood pressure rose in reckless anticipation of getting to see her, talk to her. Maybe even touch her.

  How could one sister make him feel nothing but brotherly concern and the other make him feel everything but?

  Memories of those brown eyes just about wrecked him, like storm clouds boring into him while they stood between the soulless man whom she killed with such effortlessness and the high-security vehicle he was to transport her in. To personally return her to the one place she worked so hard to escape.

  How she must despise him.

  Deep down, he knew Loren better than that. She didn’t hate him. Her heart had been decimated by him.

  He gathered himself. “And what happ
ens when the feds knock on her door to take her to the interrogation room at seven tomorrow morning?”

  “She’s been given a reprieve because their top dog interrogator was to fly in to New Mexico last night, but his flight got canceled. So the plan is that we drive her to the hospital. Deliver her to Mercy’s hospital room outside of visiting hours. Give them their sisterly moment, and return her back to the hotel in time for her noon session.”

  Alec pulled on his suit jacket as anger reverberated through his body from the treatment Loren had been getting by the Bureau gorillas. He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. “What they’re doing to her is borderline inhumane.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do to help her. I went to Birch, and he’s just as livid, but his hands are tied.”

  “Then let’s do this one small thing for her,” Trevor said. “Let’s take her to go see her sister.”

  A light sleeper, Loren sat up in bed at the sound of voices outside her hotel room. She recognized the voice of the guard. But even though the other voice sounded familiar, likely because they were making no effort to speak in hushed tones given the late hour, she couldn’t quite place it.

  Then she heard a light knocking.

  “Miss Ingalls.”

  “One minute.”

  She didn’t bother to find a robe. If they had the nerve to knock on her door at this hour, they were going to find her in her green cropped sweatshirt and boy shorts.

  She swung the door open with a churlish grin. “Yes, Special Agent Munson?”

  Munson was new to the Bureau as well as dedicated and stalwart. Overtaking him would’ve been a walk in the park, but she liked him too much to get him into any trouble with the rest of the asshats.

  Her grin faded as she took in the man standing behind Munson.

  “Miss Ingalls,” Munson said, looking at the ceiling. “I apologize for waking you, but . . . um, Senior Special Agent Forrest here, says he has orders to take you to the interrogation room.”

  She narrowed one eye. “I thought the meeting wasn’t until noon tomorrow?”

  “There’s been a change in plans,” Trevor interrupted. “Please get dressed and come with me.”

  Something didn’t smell right, but she was bored. Maybe they gave up browbeating her with the same questions day after day and decided to punch it out of her. Now that would be fun. She’d love some good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat. If someone would only throw the first punch, she could let off some steam and get in a quick workout.

  “No need to get dressed, Senior Special Agent Forrest. If someone wants to see me at this ungodly hour, they get to see me in my panties.”

  Trevor pulled in an irritated breath.

  “Miss Ingalls,” Trevor replied, “have mercy on me, and put on some pants so we can go.”

  Her entire body perked up at the emphasis he placed on that one single word. And behind the so-called special agent who was really nothing more than a glorified prison guard, Trevor widened his eyes, confirming he had said that word with intent.

  Theatrically rolling her eyes, she said, “Since you asked so nicely.” And then all but slammed the door shut as she rummaged through her drawers to pull out a pair of skinny jeans and slip her feet in a pair of flats, benevolently provided by the government agency imprisoning her.

  Racing into the bathroom, she ran a washcloth over her pits and gave them a quick sniff for reassurance. After brushing her hair up into a messy bun to hide her trashy roots, she rinsed her face, brushed her teeth, and slathered on face cream. She took the time to look presentable for the first time in what seemed like weeks in the slightest chance he was taking her to see Mercy.

  She couldn’t let her sister see her looking downtrodden and beleaguered.

  She’d just spoken on the phone with Madame Garmond a few hours ago, who assured her that Mercy was well and on the mend.

  Maybe this Trevor guy just had information? Or maybe it was a ruse to get her alone and rough her up for more intel?

  Either way, she was going in hot.

  Flinging open the door, she forced herself to slow her roll so as not to appear overeager. Nothing like racing toward an ass whipping. And if that were the case, little did they know that it wasn’t her sweet ass getting whipped.

  With a renewed look of boredom, she emerged through the doorway.

  Trevor nodded as she languidly held out one arm, indicating he lead the way. Easier to anticipate an assailant while walking behind her escort than in front.

  He pushed the elevator button, both of them avoiding eye contact. Once the doors swished closed, she turned to him as if to pepper him with questions, and he merely shook his head, implying there might be others listening or even watching their descent.

  Reining it in, she could hardly stand still as the elevator made an interminably long ride.

  Stepping out of the elevator and onto the ground floor, he quietly made his way to the doors of what used to be a restaurant in an old hotel that had been taken over by the FBI, as she followed closely behind.

  He acted quite nonchalant as he strolled into the kitchen and to the back exit door. Pulling her to the side and out of view of the door, he slowly pulled on the handle, peeked outside, and as if happy with his surroundings, opened it wider, looking around while he simply said, “Get in the back seat.”

  She walked outside to find a huge black SUV waiting for her by the door. Another so-called special agent stood at the exit, but rather than halting their escape, he simply returned a head nod from Trevor Forrest.

  Not altogether sure why she should trust him, outside of the fact that he’d said the secret code word that would make her lose all reason and forge ahead willing to accept a multitude of adverse risk probabilities.

  Jumping into the back seat, she closed her door just before Trevor’s. The driver turned his head toward her, and her heart sank to the meticulously clean floor mats of the SUV.

  Instantly, she tried to open her door, even though they were already moving, but Alec, the sneaky devil, had the forethought to lock them before his face came into focus.

  “Stop this vehicle, or I’m going to hurt somebody.” She attempted to lower her window, but those, too, had been disabled.

  No, no, no, no, no. She wasn’t prepared to see him, let alone hear his voice, or . . . or smell his warm pheromone-riddled man body.

  She threw her spine against the back of the seat and crossed her arms over her chest, looking straight ahead.

  “You have less than thirty seconds to explain what’s going on, or else I’m going to pull an electrical wire from the underside of the passenger seat and asphyxiate the both of you before you can call 911 on your fancy vehicle’s Bluetooth system.”

  Alec responded with the only five words that could have saved their sorry asses.

  “We’re taking you to Mercy.”

  As if a hundred-pound bag had been lifted from her chest, she leaned back into the seat and laid her messy bun against the headrest.

  For this, she could withstand anything, including being so close to the man who had ruined her for all other men.

  Shame she didn’t deserve Alec anymore than them. Because he deserved nothing but the best.

  “How long?” she asked, hoping Trevor would answer.

  Instead, it was the dark, gravelly voice that filled her nights and starred in her fantasies, right alongside her treacherous memories.

  It wasn’t long ago that she thought her first passion-filled evening spent with the man whose name would not be spoken, even in her headspace, would be a memory that she would unpack when the occasion called for a little trip down sexy-time memory lane and enjoyed at will. But instead of bringing a smile to her face, it brought a chasm-deep ache to her chest.

  “It’ll take just under four hours,” he responded, and the chasm fell deeper into her chest, stealing her breath and turning her eyes glassy.

  “Could you speed up please . . . and not speak?”

  Loren tapped
her toe impatiently, waiting outside Mercy’s hospital room. She could hear her voice and felt intense relief at hearing her sister sounding so chipper.

  Alec leaned against the opposite wall from the door with his hands in his suit pants pockets, glancing at her sporadically and just as quickly looking toward the opposite end of the hallway.

  She took that manic turn of his head as an opportunity to grab her own slice of eye candy and then rolled her eyes to the ceiling at the idiocy of allowing herself a nanosecond view of a suited Alec Wilder.

  Despite driving four hours straight, his suit was still crisp and creased in all the right places. The blue shirt only worked to enhance the blue eyes that did their very best to avoid her. His hair was trimmed short, according to M2M strict guidelines, she was sure. The trimmed length did nothing to keep her from plunging headfirst into the fantasy of running her fingers through his hair, grabbing what she could manage into her fists and pulling his head down to hers.

  Ironically, those nostalgic fantasies weren’t what were the most frustrating and arousal generating.

  It was the infernal buzzing. That undefinable arc of electricity crackled between them, making her feel breathless and weak and out of control.

  “I’m going to get you something to eat,” he deadpanned, expecting no pushback.

  “I’m not hungry, and you’re not supposed to be talking to me.”

  “I wouldn’t have to talk to you if you weren’t in obvious need of a high caloric meal.”

  “I’m not your problem.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose either in frustration or to keep from shaking her. He suddenly looked up, and what she read was anguish.

  “You’ll never stop being my problem, and I will always be there for you.”

  Her heart skipped an entire chorus, her toes curling at the words and the earnest look on his chiseled face. But this was no time to falter. She needed to use every despicable tool in her arsenal to turn him away from her cause.

  “Please don’t mistake me for some sappy puppy-eyed innocent hanging on every word that comes out of your mouth. And let’s not forget, the recent event where I was attacked, trussed up in a straitjacket, and carted toward the fifth circle of hell by the man who claimed to love me.”