The Right Garza : A Friends to Lovers Romance (Red Cage Book 1)

by S. Ann Cole

  As Red Cage Investigations grew and became more and more successful, we expanded to private security when our affluent and famous clients started asking for the service.

  Then, just over a year ago, we launched our cyber security software, thanks to our in-house genius, Guy. Now that’s bringing in twice as much income as the investigation service and the private security service combined.

  We’re doing pretty fucking good, not to brag.

  Dad would be proud.

  Torin is currently in Russia on an international job. These kinds of jobs generally go directly to him since it’s his area of expertise. He has mastered almost every language at this point and has the kind of patience and connections that the rest of us don’t, which is imperative for jobs such as this one.

  He’s been there on this job almost two months now, so we have virtual meetings twice a week to keep abreast of his progress.

  True saunters into the office and staggers exaggeratedly when he sees Tripp. “Holy shit. Am I seeing this right? Too Cool is here, in a meeting, on time, before me?”

  Tripp flips him the bird as he did me, but for him, he sets down his phone and gets up to give him a hug. “Glad you’re back home safe, bro.”

  “You get a hug and all I get is attitude,” I grouse, though I’m not serious. I fucking hate that kind of open affection.

  “Awe, don’t be jealous, brother,” True coos, turning to me. “Think of it this way, when someone hugs me they hug you too. You are me and I am you.”

  He grabs my face and smacks a noisy kiss on my cheek. I shove him away. “Get off me, idiot.”

  Laughing, he goes off and starts harassing Guy. “My favorite Italian nerd. With your bow ties and suspenders and colorful tattoos. One of these days I’m gonna figure you out.”

  I chuckle under my breath. Dude’s got no chill, I swear. But he’s the only person in this world I’d kill for. I love that fucker with my whole being. Which makes sense since we shared a womb together. I’ve got a different kind of love for Tripp and Torin. We’re from different mothers with different memories to the start of our lives.

  Bonding with Tripp was easy when we moved to Redlands; he was a golden-haired little ball following us around, happy to have new brothers since he was an only child at the time.

  Bonding with Torin was much harder. By the time he came to live with us he was practically a man. Dark and temperamental. Each of us eventually developed our relationships with him separately and in different ways, but for the first couple of years, he and I had a lot of animosity between us—because of her.

  Even though we’ve moved past it, there’s still a gossamer-thin curtain of it hanging between us, because, in the end, neither of us has the girl.

  And both of us still fucking want her.

  Torin’s call finally rings in.

  Guy connects the call and Torin’s face fills the sixty-inch screen on the wall ahead. Brief pleasantries are shared before we launch into discussions of current operations.

  While True gives a rundown on the happenings and suggestions for the Denver branch, I pull up the surveillance of the guesthouse on my phone. I skip from feed to feed before I find her. She’s out in the back gardens with a woman who looks familiar, but I’m only seeing her side profile so I can’t place her yet. They’re laughing and talking with expressive hand gestures, and also touching each other a lot, so there’s definitely some familiarity there.

  Because I’ve told her not to, she doesn’t update me on anything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know almost everything she’s done so far.

  I’m shameless when it comes to that woman.

  I haven’t seen her face to face since I left her there a few weeks ago. Not just because I’ve been tied up with a job, but also because I’m giving her time to settle in and focus on the task she’s been given, to come to terms with the truth that she’s really on her own with this and there’s no conning her way out.

  Once she becomes immersed in it, too invested to want to beg out, that’s when it’ll be safe to pop back in and make her my task.

  It’s a big risk throwing a project like this in her inexperienced lap, but I needed a reason to keep her in L.A. and out of trouble. Truth is, True and I had just put the place back on the market. Our agent even had a buyer lined up.

  Then Vegas happened and I had to come up with an idea for her to “pay me back.”

  She might screw this up and plummet the value of our investment, but it would be all on me. True was flat-out against it, so I signed an agreement which pretty much stated that if this experiment went to shit, I’m to return him his half of the investment in full.

  I want her to do well, not because I’m worried about my bank account taking a hit, but because if she does well with it, she’ll be running it. A surefire way to keep her here forever so she can’t run away from us—me—again.

  An incoming text drops down over the feed.

  Amanda: Hey handsome. When am I seeing you again?

  Me: You won’t. I’m seeing someone. Don’t contact me again. Thanks.

  I don’t even remember who this Amanda person is.

  Do I have a bad habit of having random no-attachment hookups? Yeah. That’s how I prefer it, because I’m already owned by someone.

  But now that she’s within reach, these kinds of messages annoy the shit out of me. Mostly because they’re making me realize just how thin I’d been spreading myself to avoid “catching feelings” for anyone else.

  A paperclip bounces off my forehead and I glance up to see my twin grinning at me from across the table. “No sexting in meetings.”

  I glare at him. “Do you even know what the word chill means?”

  His grin broadens. “You mean like Netflix and ‘Chill’?”

  “I mean like chill the fuck out.”

  “Oh, that type of chill…” He makes a face then shrugs. “Yeah, I know what it means, but I don’t know how to do it.”

  Tripp chuckles.

  Torin sighs from the screen. “From my point of view, none of you know how to chill or stay focused for two seconds.”

  “That’s why you’re the one in Russia, boss,” Tripp says, saluting him. “You’re the serious one. Blend right in with them stony, never-smiling Russians. You’ve got so much fucking chill you could freeze the equator.”

  I run my hand across my mouth to clear my smile.

  Torin glowers. He’s the king of it. People sweat when he gives them that glower. But for us, we know he’s, well, Torin. He loves us. He just can’t fucking stand us.

  Though I’m often accused of being a moody asshole, I’ve got a shit ton more warmth than he does. I don’t like most people, I tolerate some, and some I do enjoy being around. But that motherfucker doesn’t like anyone.

  “How are you holding up, brother?” I ask him.

  He rubs his forehead. “Well, it’s never fun being here, but I believe I’m close to getting access to the target.”

  “Well shit, that’s good news. Means we’re getting you back soon.”

  “Doubt it. This one’s more dangerous than we thought. I’ll have to work my way in, choose the right time for action, and call in some favors from our contacts here for aid and reinforcements.”

  I sit up straight. “How dangerous are we talking?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Fuck that,” I spit. “You need to get the hell out of there if it’s gonna put you in more danger than we prepared for.”

  “This is a seven-million-dollar job, Trent. I’m not walking away from it.”

  “Seven million dollars you won’t be able to spend if you end up with a bullet in your head,” True retorts, his easy smile gone.

  “Guys, I’ve got it under control.” Torin holds his hands up. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  Silence stretches as we all exchange glances. None of us are comfortable with this. Had it been anyone else from the team, we would have pulled them from the assignment immediately. But it�
�s Torin. Not only does he have the last word, but no one can get him to do shit. We’ve tried to pull him off risky jobs before, but we’ve never been successful. He thrives on danger. Chases it. The guy’s got a goddamn death wish.

  Tripp breaks the silence. “So, Tor, guess who’s back in L.A.”

  Shit’s sake. He could have just let the silence live.

  “Who?”

  Tripp smirks evilly at me as he tells Torin, “Your favorite, brown-eyed Latina.”

  Torin frowns. “Lexi?”

  “Yup.”

  “Oh.” A short pause. “How’s she doing?”

  Like he doesn’t know. I fight back a snort. He’s been keeping tabs on Lexi for years. Shit, I kept tabs on her through his tabs. That’s how I know he still wants her and never did let her go. Torin doesn’t care enough about people to keep tabs on them. The only people on that list for him are Mom, Tillie, and Lexi.

  “You’d have to ask Trent that,” Tripp says, stirring shit. “He’s had her under lock and key.”

  I point my phone at him “You’re asking for a beating.”

  He stretches he arms wide with a shit-eating grin. “Step in the ring with me, bro.”

  “She’s at our guesthouse,” I say. “Working on getting things up and running.”

  “Your place in Pasadena?” Torin asks. “Thought you were selling that.”

  “We took it off the market.”

  I pull out of the conversation and scroll mindlessly on my phone. Torin and I have an unspoken agreement to never discuss Lexi. Ever. She’s a hard limit.

  “Well, it’s good she’s back. And smart that you gave her something to focus on so she doesn’t go running off—”

  “She’s not back because she wants to be back,” Tripp cuts off. “She’s paying off a debt. Your wild Latina got herself in trouble in Vegas and Trent—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Tripp,” I growl. Then I cut my glare at True. “You don’t how keep your mouth shut, man?”

  True holds his hands up to profess his innocence. “It wasn’t me, I swear.”

  “Stefano told me,” Tripp supplies. “He came to my fight last Friday.”

  “Lexi got into shit with Stefano?” Torin growls from the screen.

  “It’s taken care of,” I growl back.

  “Stefano?” he barks.

  “It’s. Taken. Care. Of,” I bark back. Yeah, we’re feral dogs at this point. It’s gets like that with us sometimes. “Now everyone just shut the fuck up about her.”

  “All right,” Guy says placatingly, “let’s move on to the Daniel Bollard assignment. They want to—”

  “You and I need to talk, Trent,” Torin interrupts.

  “No,” I shot back. “We don’t talk about her. You know this.”

  Tripp rubs his palms together, reveling in the tension.

  “We’re talking,” he insists.

  “That’s not fu—”

  “Like Guy said, let’s move on to the Daniel Bollard assignment,” True interjects while staring at me, silently begging me to let it go.

  Tripp has always been a shit-stirrer, and we played right into it.

  Rubbing my hand across my jaw, I decide to let it go. Because this time, I have the advantage. I’m here in L.A. and he isn’t. And I’m going to make sure she chooses right this time.

  Lexi Flores is mine.

  Chapter THIRTEEN

  “Yeah, ‘cause there’s no dick involved.”

  Lexi

  “That shower is amazing,” Maggie says as she skips downstairs in a towel.

  Knees pulled up on the couch, I sweep strokes of purple polish along my toenails. “I know, right? It’s made me forget I’m a bath girl.”

  After learning yesterday that Maggie was staying at a nearby Airbnb to avoid the long commute back and forth from Bakersfield, I invited her to stay with me instead. Not only because it would save her from spending money she doesn’t have, but also because I desperately need the company. Being on this huge estate by myself was starting to become a bit lonely and depressing for me, especially at night.

  Maggie and I were roomies back when we worked with Slim, so we’re somewhat familiar with each other’s habits. She has her irritants, like being a nudist and eating all my food, but compared to the nightmare of a housemate that Ellie was, Maggie will be a darling to live with.

  I didn’t clear the decision with Trent, but I doubt he’ll have a problem with it since she’s his old flame and all.

  “You want java?” she asks. “I’ll be pulling an all-nighter working on these concepts.”

  “I think I’ve had one too many cups today.” I wiggle my toes, not sure if I love or hate this purple polish. “Oh, don’t forget to email that rec list we talked about. I want to begin feeling out labor costs.”

  “Righty-O, boss.”

  As I roll my eyes, my phone jigs across the coffee table with a text notification. Carefully, I straighten out my legs and reach for it.

  When I see the text is from Trent, I snort. I haven’t heard from this hellion in a hot minute.

  Trent: What you doing?

  Me: Well damn. You got my hopes up. When I didn’t hear from you I thought you forgot about me. I was all giddy about my plan to sneak away and slip under the radar.

  Trent: Where would you even go?

  Me: That’s for me to know.

  Trent: I’d find you. I’d always find you

  Me: Hmm. Because you drugged me and planted a tracking chip in me?

  Trent: What are you doing right now?

  Me: Painting my toenails.

  Trent: How productive

  Me: I was on my feet all day today running around this big old place. Nothing is wrong with taking a few minutes to show them some TLC.

  Trent: TLC would be a nice, slow massage from strong hands, not nail polish

  Me: You offering?

  Trent: I’ve never been the “nice guy”, Lexi. If I’m massaging your feet, I’m massaging other places too. Still want it?

  Me: No thanks.

  Trent: *laughing emoji*

  Me: What are you doing?

  Trent: Working

  Me: Must be really boring if you’re texting me.

  Trent: *GIF of a sleepy cat nodding off in a corner*

  Trent: Come keep me company?

  Me: At work?

  Trent: Yeah

  Me: Nah. I’m a little beat. This “task” you’ve given me is tiring.

  Trent: You can take a nap on me *wink emoji*

  Trent: Be there in 20

  Bossy jerk. Still, I straighten from the couch and walk on the back of my heels upstairs to my room to change out of my jammies, because the truth is, I haven’t been off these grounds in over a week. I’ve been so consumed with doing whatever I can to get this right that I haven’t stopped for anything else except to eat and sleep. So, I quite like the idea of going out for a drive.

  After I’ve successfully donned leggings and a crop-top without smudging my nail polish, I heel it to Maggie’s room and rap my knuckles against the door.

  “No need to knock, Lexi.”

  I push it open. She’s lying belly-down on the bed in nothing but her panties with her laptop open in front her. I’ve no idea what her beef is with clothes, but this girl despises them.

  “I’m heading out for a bit.”

  She eyes my casual wear. “Tell me you’re not going out on a date in that?”

  “Date?” I guffaw. “No, it’s just stupid Trent. He’s bored on the job and wants me to keep him company for a bit.”

  She gives me a look. “Is ‘keeping him company’ part of the debt repayment as well?”

  “He wouldn’t take no for an answer, and all he does is boss me around now that I owe him, so, it would seem so.”

  “Hmm,” she hums with a smile.

  “‘Hmm’ what?” I ask. “What’s that look on your face mean?”

  “What look?” she says, all innocent.

  “Whatever.” I wave her of
f and start to close the door. “He’s Trent. Your ex. And a giant pain in my ass. Nothing more.”

  “If you say so,” she sings, right before the door clicks shut.

  ~

  Twin lights beam through the darkness as Trent’s jeep creeps up the driveway. He has his own fob for the gate, plus, with the newest security upgrade, full control of the property through a synced app on his phone, so unlike everyone else, I don’t have to wait by the monitor to let him in.

  Unwrapping a Juicy Fruit, I amble down the steps and meet the jeep before it’s even fully stopped. After I’ve slipped the gum in my mouth, I stuff the wrapper in my mini crossbody purse then yank the jeep door open and hop in.

  Trent sniffs, his angular features casted in the faint glow of lights from the dashboard. “Is that Juicy Fruit?”

  “Bloodhound,” I mutter as I buckle my seatbelt.

  “Can’t believe you still chew that. Diabetes in a wrapper,” he says, driving off. “Give me one.”

  “Only you would knock something then beg for it in the same breath.”

  I fetch one from my purse, unwrap it, then hold it up to his mouth. He takes it his teeth and his tongue darts out to help it in the rest of the way. And I spend longer than I should staring at his lips. They’re so full, and firm, and…

  Clearing my throat, I drag my gaze away and stare straight ahead. He’s Trent, for crying out loud. I’ve no business leering at his lips.

  “I don’t understand,” I say, “how are you bored working? I thought Red Cage was all action and thrill and badassery.”

  “Sometimes,” he replies. “But not all the time. A lot of the times it’s mind-numbingly quiet. Lots of stakeouts, bugging and listening, or hiding in plain sight to get what we need.”

  “And what’s tonight?”

  “Gathering evidence on a cheating wife.”

  “Seriously? Dude, I could do that.”

  He snorts. “Maybe. But you wouldn’t get hired by an A-list celebrity.”

  I can feel my eyes stretch. “This is a celebrity gig?”

  “We only take jobs like this from the rich and famous. ‘Cause they pay a shit ton and then refer us in the big circles.”