by Regan Black
“Hey, will I be adopted?” Caleb’s bravado faded and his gaze dropped to his half-eaten pancakes.
“No.” Matt curled a hand around his shoulder. “No need. You’ve always been mine, legally.” He waited for his son to meet his gaze. “I would like to make it more obvious to the rest of the world, though and change your name, if that’s okay with you.”
“Yeah. I’d like that, Dad.” Caleb grinned when Matt did a double take.
Matt saw hints of his little brothers in the expression. The kid was a Riley to the bone, and his aunts and uncles would do their best to give him roots, as well as ornery ideas.
“Can you come to my next game?”
“Already on my calendar,” Matt replied. He covered Bethany’s hand with his. “No doubts or lingering fear?”
“None. You’re the only man who’s ever made me strong enough to face anything,” she said. “You’ve always been there, shoring me up. It just took me a long time to stop running away from the truth and run toward you instead.”
Her admission startled him and made him happier still. “Side by side, love. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“I know. I love you, Matt, so much.” She pressed her lips to his. “Always have.” She gave his words back to him, punctuated with sweet kisses. “Always will. It’s past time we started living like a real family.”
His heart beat with a steady contentment in his chest. “Let’s go home.” With one hand in hers, his other arm draped over his son’s shoulders, the three of them headed out to their first day as a family whole, at last.
* * *
Don’t miss previous books in Regan Black’s
Escape Club Heroes series
Braving the Heat
Protecting Her Secret Son
A Stranger She Can Trust
Safe in His Sight
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Protecting the Boss
by Beverly Long
Chapter 1
Seth Pike had two child-size teddy bears wrapped in clear plastic under one arm and a twelve-year-old bottle of scotch under the other. What he didn’t have was an umbrella, which meant he was going to get wet.
The rain, a welcome relief from the heat, was falling hard, practically bouncing up when it hit. Vegas, a mass of concrete and hard-baked earth in August, was unreceptive to Mother Earth’s goodness.
He had four blocks to go and it would be a damn miracle if he didn’t get his eye poked out by some fool who couldn’t control his umbrella in the strong wind that had come along with the rain. He spied the big green awning of one of his favorite pizza places and made a run for it.
He slid the last couple feet, almost ramming into the back of a woman who hadn’t been there a second before. “Sorry,” he mumbled, managing to stay upright and not drop the scotch or the bears.
“No problem,” she said, turning. “I perhaps should have taken the warning about monsoon season a little more seriously.”
She talked fast and her very blue eyes sparkled. She wore a short black dress and black heels. Her bare legs were toned and tanned and he told himself it wasn’t nice to stare. With effort, he shifted his gaze upward. A brightly colored scarf was hanging off one shoulder, secured with some kind of fancy knot that only women seemed to know how to do. Her damp hair was a dark brown and hung below her shoulders. She was in the process of gathering it up into a ponytail and then wadding said ponytail into a bun on the top of her head. On one wrist was an oversize gold watch and on the other, at least five gold bracelets, in varying shapes and sizes. There were rings on three of her fingers. None of them looked like the wedding type.
“Whew,” she said, giving the bun a pat. “That’s better.”
With her three-inch heels, they were almost at eye level. She had the darkest eyelashes he’d ever seen.
She smiled at him and for the first time, looked at the things he was carrying. “So the bears enjoy scotch?”
He pointed at their pirate suits. “Strictly rum drinkers.”
“Of course. Love a good piña colada myself.”
He inclined his head toward the dark window behind them. “There’s a nice bar twenty feet behind you. Unfortunately, they’re only open for dinner.”
“I’m free later. Maybe I’ll come back,” she added, her tone unconcerned. “Congrats on being much smarter and carrying your alcohol with you.”
He shook his head. “The bears are for my business partner who is expecting a set of twins in a couple months and the scotch is...”
“To ensure that they all get a few hours of sleep?” she said, finishing his sentence.
“No. For my other business partner, who is getting married early next month.”
“I see. Well, good wishes to them all. Does it rain like this every day?”
“Only for a couple weeks out of the year,” he said. “Where are you from?”
“California. Near Carmel.”
He’d spent a few weeks driving Route 1 along the coast a few years back. “Nice place,” he said.
“I suppose,” she said, not sounding convinced.
“First time in Vegas?”
“Third.”
“What brings you here?”
“Business,” she said.
She was the queen of one-word answers. “Not the gambling.”
She laughed. “My business is enough of a gamble.”
That made him curious. But before he could ask, she glanced at her watch and said, “I think I’m going to have to make a run for it.”
Wait. It almost came out of his mouth. But that was crazy. “Good luck,” he offered instead.
She gave him a dazzling smile. And took off fast. In the opposite direction of where he was going.
And seconds later, his own steps back to his office were slower, even though he was getting really wet. She’d taken her energy and maybe some of his with her.
When he got to the Wingman Security offices ten minutes later, he was still thinking about the woman. About how fast she talked. About the color of her eyes.
He opened the door, waved at Jane behind the reception desk, who was on the phone, and quickly walked down the hallway to his office. He shoved his purchases into the credenza behind his desk. He had a lot of work to do before tonight’s party. His first appointment after lunch was due in fiftee
n minutes.
He took a seat behind the desk, which was almost entirely covered by piles. Files to review, security-related white papers to read, personal bills to pay and his laptop computer.
He glanced up when a shadow passed by his door. “Hey,” he said.
Royce Morgan stepped into view. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were back. You’re soaked,” he said.
Right down to his underwear. “Get any sleep last night?” he asked.
Royce shrugged, not looking that concerned. “Couple hours. Grace and I got some quality bonding time in the middle of the night.”
Royce’s seven-month-old daughter was teething. “Is she your date for tonight?”
“Yeah. Jules doesn’t get back from New York until this weekend.”
How Jules managed motherhood and being the CEO of a large pharmaceutical company was beyond him, but she seemed to do it effortlessly. Royce had really lucked out there.
As had his other two partners. Trey Riker had married Kellie McGarry last fall and his tux was ready in his closet for when Rico Metez and Laura Collins got hitched next month.
Then he’d be the only bachelor left at Wingman Security.
Fine with him.
“Don’t let her drink too much,” he said.
Royce shook his head. “She has to be at least two before she can have a cocktail.”
Seth laughed. Royce was a supergood dad. Not that any of them had had any doubts.
“You got a date for tonight?” Royce asked.
“Nope.”
“Still between prospects?”
That’s how he’d explained his dating situation a few weeks ago when he, Royce, Trey and Rico had gone out for a few beers. “I’m not looking,” he said. “I think it’s good if one of us stays single. We don’t want to cut ourselves out of a key demographic.”
“Which is?”
“Single woman looking for protection. They aren’t going to want one of you married types.”
“You don’t tell single clients that, do you?” Royce asked in response, perfectly serious.
Seth knew his partners thought he could be a little blunt sometimes. He preferred to think of it as being a direct communicator. “Not unless they ask,” he said.
“Marketing strategies should always be a secret.”
Seth held a finger up in the air. “I knew I should have gone to business school. All I cared about was trying to keep my ass from getting shot out of the sky.”
Royce laughed and disappeared from view down the hallway. Five minutes later, Seth’s desk phone buzzed. It was Jane, telling him that his appointment had arrived. He checked the name again on his phone calendar.
Abigail Chevalier. Some thirty years ago, her mother and Kellie McGarry’s mother had been sorority sisters. That connection was enough that she’d been able to land a spot on Seth’s calendar with barely twenty-four hours’ notice.
When he got to the lobby, his potential new client was staring out the window. She turned as he approached. She was short, with short blond hair tucked behind her ears, and very pregnant.
“Would you like a chair?” he said quickly.
She shook her head. “It’s easier to stand at this point. More room for the baby, you know?”
He didn’t know. And maybe that’s why he was uneasy. Or maybe it was because there was something about Abigail Chevalier that seemed familiar. But he was pretty confident they’d never met.
He led her back to his office and pointed at the chair. “Sit or stand. Your preference.” He went behind his desk and sat. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Chevalier?”
“Please, just Abigail. I’ve only been married for four months so I’m still getting used to the name. My maiden name of North was a little easier. Anyway, I’m rambling. I do that when I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous,” he said.
“I need security.”
She’d chosen to stand, but because she couldn’t be much over five feet, he didn’t have to look up too far. “For yourself?” The idea that a pregnant woman might need security spiked all kinds of protective emotions in him.
“For my sister, Megan North. She was supposed to meet me here but she’s running a little late. Her meeting at the bank ran long.”
“Why does your sister require security?”
“Megan and I are not just sisters, we’re also business partners. We’ve purchased an existing small chain of high-end women’s boutiques. Four locations in total. The Vegas store is right across the street from here.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. He knew the place. Hadn’t paid too much attention to it, but it had interesting window displays at times of sexily dressed mannequins. And he recalled a story where his partner Trey had picked out a red sparkly dress for Jules Morgan when she and Royce were undercover in Vegas. Rumor had it that Royce’s jaw had dropped. “Four locations,” he repeated. “Where are the others?”
“Sedona, Arizona. Albuquerque, New Mexico. Colorado Springs, Colorado. In Vegas, we were able to purchase the building, and in the other locations, we’re renting space. We’re rebranding the properties and reopening all four as North and More Designs.”
“Very exciting,” he said.
“Yes. But I’m due in five weeks and my doctor isn’t crazy about me traveling, and that’s all my new husband, who is very French and very protective, had to hear. He insists that I not go. But that means that Megan is going to have to do the openings herself.”
It sounded like a good reason to hire an assistant, not necessarily a security specialist whose bill rate was $2,500 a day. “Wingman Security might not be—”
“There was another potential buyer in the mix,” she said, interrupting him. “We beat their bid and we understand they’re not too happy about it.”
Probably not. Nobody liked to lose. But still. “You’re anticipating that they’ll transfer this unhappiness into action against your sister.”
“Not her,” she said. “I don’t think they’re that crazy. Thank goodness. But possibly against the properties and the events associated with the reopening of the properties. They’ve been the losing party before and while it was never proven, most of us in the industry think they had some responsibility for a fire that consumed their competitor’s warehouse.”
Well, that put a different spin on things. “Reopening four stores in four states,” he said. “Over what time period?” He had to be here for Rico’s wedding.
“The next twelve days. We’ll be done by the end of the month.”
That would work. Rico’s wedding was the first weekend of next month. “Has the travel been booked?”
“Hotels, yes.”
“Air travel?” That’s what he’d meant.
“All travel will be done by car. Megan doesn’t fly.”
He felt the first shiver of unease. Flying was like breathing to him. But he didn’t want to disappoint Kellie McGarry by refusing to help a family friend or turn away good business. “I’ll get somebody started on the contract,” Seth said. He got up from his desk at the exact moment his intercom buzzed. “Yes,” he said.
“Megan North is here to see you.”
“Oh, good. She made it,” Abigail said.
“Thanks, Jane,” he said. “Bring her back, would you?”
Abigail Chevalier waved her index finger to get his attention. “I probably should have mentioned this,” she said, her voice a mere whisper, “but Megan isn’t too happy about this.”
And before he could ask why, in walked the brunette he’d stood in the rain with.
* * *
Megan suspected she looked every bit as stunned as Seth Pike. “Hello again,” she said, working hard to sound nonchalant. She barely made eye contact, instead focusing on her younger sister.
“Hi, Abigail,” she said, taking one of the empty chairs. She w
asn’t surprised to see her sister standing. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” her sister said. “No different from when you asked me two hours ago.” She said it without angst. She knew Megan worried. And tried to be a good sport about it. She was sweet like that.
But under all that sweetness was a rip current of manipulation, Megan had realized, when two days ago, her sister had no trouble using Megan’s concern to her advantage to get Megan to agree to hiring security.
Megan had been excited to be away from Carmel, away from the craziness that had permeated her life for the last few months. The craziness that nobody else had heard, seen or believed, especially the police. The craziness she hid from Abigail.
The way her life had been going lately, she should not have been the least surprised that it was Seth Pike she’d shared a dry spot with earlier that afternoon. Coincidences, both alarming and not, seemed to abound lately.
“Mr. Pike,” she said, extending her hand to him. He was still standing by the side of his desk. His shirt and pants were drying but he looked as if he could use a good iron. “Good to see you didn’t melt.”
“Oh, I’m not that sweet,” he said.
No, but he was a bit of eye candy. Lean and tall, but not too tall. Probably just under six feet. His dark brown hair was cut short and he had very light brown eyes. His skin was tanned.
“Ms. North, I presume,” he said.
“Please, just Megan. After all, we have history.”
Abigail looked at Seth, then Megan. “Do you two know each other?”
They both shook their heads. Megan turned to her sister. “Earlier today, I got caught in the rain. As did Mr. Pike.”
“Seth,” he said.
“As did Seth. We shared a canopy before I had to dash to the bank. Which, by the way, went well.”
“Good,” Abigail said.
“Now that I see the two of you together, the resemblance is definitely there,” he said.
She was six years older, seven inches taller, and had dark hair. But she understood. Their eyes were the same shape and almost the same color. They both had their mom’s smile and their dad’s long fingers. “Most people don’t see it,” she said.