* * * *
“My God, what happened to your head?”
Bree dragged herself by Whitney’s desk and into her office. As she did every morning, Whitney followed her in, her iPad at the ready. Bree fell into her chair and closed her eyes. “It’s just a little scrape.”
She blinked, waiting for more. With a deep sigh, she prodded, “How’d you get it?”
“Can we talk about something else, please?”
“No. Rough night?”
Bree didn’t even want to think about her night. After the Bowman twins flanked her and did nothing more than hold her as they slept, she’d had nothing but time to contemplate her situation. How were they able to sleep after that? As she’d dozed, the slightest hitch in Jason’s breath jolted her awake. He’d been shot, yet slept like it had been nothing more than another day at the office.
Not her. After trembling for hours as the shock had worn off, she’d barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, those headlights blinded her. She’d almost died last night. If it hadn’t been for Jeremy literally throwing her out of the way, she would have.
“It was uneventful,” she finally answered and sipped at the coffee Whitney brought her. “How about you?”
“Worked late. No shocker there.”
“And you ride me to get a life?”
“Speaking of riding, did you go home last night? Or did you go over to Jeremy’s? Maybe you two got a little rough. Is that what happened to your head?”
“This is the opposite of talking about something else.”
“This is way too juicy not to talk about.”
“This is me ignoring you.” She shook the mouse to bring her computer to life.
Whitney pouted as she leaned against the sill in front of the giant window, her normal spot to perch when she drilled Bree about anything and everything. “Fine, be that way. You’ll tell me eventually. You always do.”
“Not this time.”
“Whatever, Bree. You’re so predictable.”
Her mouth fell open at the insult. “I am not.”
Whitney’s eyes twinkled as she accepted the challenge to prove her wrong. “You listen to your beloved soundtracks every morning before work. This morning you were humming a tune from Mamma Mia.”
“It’s never too early for Abba.” It still surprised her that Rand had the music piping into the back of the town car. How did he know about her obsession with show tunes?
“You always take the express lanes to work, even when the traffic report has them slower than the freeway.”
So she insisted Rand take the express lanes. So? She went the same way every day. Was that a crime?
“You rarely work after six and are never here before seven.”
She’d promised Peter when he died she wouldn’t allow the company to consume her like it did him. He’d worked morning, noon, and night. He’d even had a couch in the office that pulled out so he could sleep at work when he stayed too late.
“Fridays are your cheat day and you not only get a caramel macchiato, but a piece of lemon cake as well, where you proceed to eat the icing first. Do you need me to go on?”
Okay, so she really was predictable. Was that such a bad thing?
“Sorry, sweetie.” Whitney offered a shrug of her slender shoulder. “Don’t listen to me. I’m just jealous you’re getting some and I’m celibate.”
“I’m not, um…”
“Holy shit. He still can’t get it up?” Her eyes flew open as she sprang from the sill. “This is serious.”
“It’s not that he can’t.” She hesitated as she thought of a better way to say it. Unable to think of one, she skipped it. “It’s just that we haven’t.”
“Wait.” She brought her hands out like a traffic cop. “Let’s start again. Did you stay at his place last night?”
“Yes, but—”
“And you didn’t mount him like a jockey at the Kentucky Derby?”
“No.”
“Did you even sleep in the same bed?” It sounded worse when Whit said it aloud and then flashed a look of sympathy as her eyebrows pulled up at the center.
She closed her eyes as she sighed. How was she supposed to explain the reasons behind why she didn’t sleep with Jeremy without telling her about nearly dying? Bree rested her head on the desk. When she hit her wound, she winced and turned to press her cheek to the cool surface.
What happened these past ten years? Jeremy seemed so much darker now. He didn’t like removing his shirt. They’d only been intimate a few times, and every time, he’d kept his shirt on. Why? What was he hiding? Did he have a tattoo of an ex-girlfriend he didn’t want her to see? She’d spotted traces of ink trailing out from under the sleeves of his shirt, which also gave her pause. He didn’t seem the type to have tattoos. Jason, sure. But, not Jeremy.
Blinking at her best friend, she confessed, “He won’t take off his clothes in front of me.”
“Oh, God.” Whitney settled in a chair in front of the desk, forcing Bree to crane her neck to meet her gaze. Concern softened those pretty blues as Whit studied her. “Is he gay?”
“No,” she groaned and closed her eyes. At least she hoped not. “What am I going to do?”
“Get him naked and see what pops up.”
“Whit, I’m serious.”
“So am I.” She scooted closer and brushed Bree’s hair from her face. Her touch soothed her and calmed her erratic heartbeat. “Sweetie, all joking aside. This guy has you in knots. There’s only one way to find out what he’s hiding.”
She straightened and blinked. How’d she know? “You think he’s hiding something?”
“Why else would he not take advantage of having you next to him in the same bed? You, my dear, are still stuck in the friend zone. Never mind the hand job he gave you Saturday night. Never mind whatever happened last night that has your cheeks a little rosier than normal.”
She covered her cheeks with her hands. Was it that obvious?
Whitney laughed at her reaction, a light bubbly sound that always made Bree smile. “Normally, I’d say ride this pleasure train until it derails.”
“But?” There was always a but with her.
“Make sure it’s really what you want.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve been pining over this guy for ten years.”
Sixteen if she counted all those years in school. Splitting hairs wouldn’t be in her favor, so she let it go. “Your point?”
“Is it the Jeremy Bowman today you want? Or the Jeremy Bowman you walked away from ten years ago?”
“He’s not the same man he was ten years ago.”
“My point exactly.” She took Bree’s hand and held her gaze. “Be sure you aren’t in love with a memory. What happens if you go all in and discover he’s not as great as you’ve built him up to be?”
It was exactly what had Bree hesitant to take it—whatever it was—to the next level. Up until now, they’d had fun, kept it casual by including Jason so it wouldn’t get too serious too fast. Would this be considered friends with benefits? She sighed as she dropped her attention and slowly slid her hands to her lap. “I know what I’m doing,” she lied. She had no clue what to do.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Whitney eyed her. She had three years and a world of experience on Bree. “I’m not trying to rain on your parade, sweetie. You know I love you and will support you no matter what. I would hate to have to kill him if he hurt you. I wouldn’t do well in prison. Orange is not a good color on me.”
“I’d hate to be the reason you’d have to change your wardrobe. I’d take very good care of your shoe collection.”
“That’s just mean.” She made a major point to sigh long, loud, and hard as she stood. The eye roll was a nice touch. “Enough of the doom and gloom. Today, you have a pretty light schedule.”
“Tuesdays usually are.” Thank God for Tuesdays. “Just please tell me I don’t have any surprises today.”
“
Does meeting with your new, hunky hot CPA count as a surprise?”
She dropped her jaw and then snapped her chin up. Her heart raced as images of last night replayed in her mind. Jason between her legs, driving her crazy with his tongue. Jeremy swallowing her screams.
Jeremy holding her tight as that bullet ripped through Jason’s bicep.
Shuddering, she pushed the image from her mind. “What time will he be here?”
“See, here’s the thing.”
“The view from this building is amazing. I’ve set up my office right below this one.” Jeremy walked in, looking devilishly handsome in a light gray suit that hugged his shoulders perfectly. The dark blue tie accented his eyes and made Bree want to touch him so much it tickled her fingers.
“That’s the thing,” Whitney said with a nod toward him. “There really wasn’t a time, per se. I’ll, uh, just mind your phone.” She hurried toward the door, but as she passed Jeremy, she paused and gave him a slow and steady once over. He held her gaze and offered a tip of his lips.
Jealousy sizzled in her blood. She had no reason to be jealous. They weren’t a thing. Still, she didn’t appreciate having to witness him practically undress her best friend with that heated look.
Once Whitney closed the doors behind her, Jeremy jerked his attention to her. “Good morning. You left early. When I woke, you were gone.”
“I had to get ready for work.” Besides, she needed down time to regroup after spending the night flanked by the Bowman twins. It shouldn’t have kept her up. She’d slept in Jeremy’s bed plenty of times in high school. Back then, they were friends. Only friends. And now? She didn’t know what they were.
“I’ll have your things delivered to my suite today.”
“No, you won’t.”
Concern flickered in his gaze. “We’ve gone over this.”
“I’m not staying with you.”
“I’ll stay with you, then.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Am I?” That concern melted to annoyance as he jumped his gaze to her. “You almost died last night. Right in front of me. If I hadn’t gotten there when I did…” He shook his head and turned from her, but not before she caught the emotion blazing in his eyes. It tightened his expression, shocking her from the intensity. He thrust his fingers through his hair.
“But you did,” she said softly when he kept his back to her.
“I may not be there the next time.”
Her breath hitched as a flash of fear had her up rigid. “You think there’ll be a next time?”
“I don’t think.” He swung around, piercing her with a look that had her rounding her eyes. His burned with anger. It shadowed his features, roughened his voice. “I’m sure of it. That guy last night was no pro.”
“How do you know?” She didn’t want to know, but couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“He could have taken you out the instant you left the building. Instead, he waited until you stepped off the curb.”
“Because he used his car as a weapon. He couldn’t drive up on the walkway.”
“He had a gun.”
Another thing that kept her up all night. He’d had a gun, yet didn’t use it until the shootout with Jason. Why? As much as she hated to admit it, Jeremy had a point. He could have taken her out the instant she’d left the building. It sounded like someone else when she asked, “Why didn’t he shoot me?”
“I don’t know.” He placed his hands on her desk and leaned toward her, a hard look crystallizing his eyes. “But if he had, Whitney would be planning your funeral instead of your next lunch meeting. Wise up, Bree. Accept my help.”
It made the most sense. She didn’t have a clue how to defend herself against something like this. He, clearly, did. “Do I have much of a choice?”
“No.” He backed away from her desk and took a seat in one of the plush leather chairs on the opposite side. He removed his glasses and wiped them off on a cloth he pulled out of his pocket. “I’ve already changed the passwords on all of your accounts. I’ll be meeting with the bank this afternoon to set up the new signature cards. Once I’ve secured access to your financials, I’ll get started on my audit.”
“Why do I need an audit?” What aren’t you telling me?
He hesitated as he cleaned his glasses. It was slight, but she caught it. After replacing his glasses and tucking away the cloth, he went on. “It’s just a precaution. I need to know where all the bodies are buried. Any good CPA would do the same.”
She didn’t know if she liked that term, not after last night. Let the bodies stay buried. “Fine. Let me know if you discover any anomalies in the financials. I have a very good legal team. In fact,” she picked up her phone. “I should inform them of your role with the company.”
He stood, reached over, and pressed the button to kill the dial tone. She frowned but said nothing, even when he took the receiver from her and hung it up. “For now, we’ll keep this between us.”
“I don’t like secrets.”
“Neither do I.” He stepped back and crossed his arms in front of him as he studied her. “Before I start digging, is there anything you want to tell me?”
She jumped to her feet, instantly furious. “Just what are you accusing me of?”
“I’ll find everything, Bree. If you’re hiding anything, it’s better you tell me now.”
Unbelievable. Did he just accuse her of hiding something in her financials? Who the hell did he think he was? “Out. Get the hell out of my office before I call security and have you escorted out of the building.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Do you really want to know what I think?” She grabbed the receiver and lifted it to her ear.
“You win.” He put his hands up and backed away. As he opened the doors, he called over his shoulder, “Rand will be here at five. Try to be on time tonight. He’s not known for his patience.”
NINETEEN
“Sorry I’m late,” Bree offered as she slid into the backseat. Rand closed the door and didn’t say a word as they drove out of the parking garage. Unable to stand the silence, she added, “The time got away from me.”
“No clocks in the building?”
“I’m really sorry, Rand.” She felt terrible for making him wait. He shouldn’t have to chauffer her around any more than she should have to be chauffeured. “How about I drive myself tomorrow? That way you won’t have to wait around for me.”
“I’ve had worse assignments.”
She had to do something to get him talking. Remembering what made him open up yesterday, she decided to start with SAR. “Any good searches today?”
“Not a damn one,” he grumbled.
“What about the one from yesterday?”
“Found the guy within a couple hours.” He shook his head, not at all pleased over that. She knew better than to find it odd. Those in search and rescue lived for searches. He’d said it was the first one in six months and had missed it because of her. Now she felt even worse.
“I remember my first search,” she stated, hoping it started another great conversation like last night’s. “I was so excited when we got the callout. At fourteen, I couldn’t drive yet and didn’t have much of a social life outside of school. We were the first at the scene, and it was already getting dark.”
“Did they deploy a hasty search for containment?” He perked up, both in body language and voice.
She nodded and grinned, excited to have something else to talk about. “Some of us walked to the closer trailheads and intersections. The ATV unit dropped others off when they got there. Jeremy and I volunteered to walk to a trailhead about a mile up the road. We pitched our tents while it was still light. Once it got dark, I built a fire so Jeremy could cook us something.”
“Isn’t that a bit backwards?”
She wasn’t about to let him think his stereotypical and sexist attitude was in any way okay with her. “Oh, you mean the fact I built the fire?�
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“Most women I know can’t build a decent fire.”
“Most men I know can’t cook a decent meal,” she countered with a spike of her eyebrow.
“As sexist as you think I am,” he ground out, a snarl forming on his upper lip. “That’s not what I meant. Build the fire first. Draw in your subject with the smoke. You can’t see smoke in the dark.”
“We were told to always set up camp first, then build the fire.”
“If your subject sees the smoke before dark,” he fired back. “You won’t need to set up camp at all. Trust me on this, Mrs. Harrington. I know a hell of a lot about surviving at any cost. That includes more than my survival.”
She did trust him and had no reason not to. Everything he’d said made perfect sense. Besides, he drove her to and from work as a matter of her survival. She couldn’t forget that and never would, especially after last night. Refusing TREX’s help would be ignorant at best and deadly at worst. She wasn’t an ignorant person.
Sighing, she lowered her head on the back of the seat and winced when she landed on the lump. It reminded her she didn’t walk away unscathed after the attack. Adjusting, she gingerly moved until it didn’t hurt to relax.
“I’m really sorry I wasn’t there last night.”
His comment caught her attention, and she lifted her head. “Why’s that?”
“You were hurt on my watch.”
“It wasn’t your watch. Besides, I wasn’t hurt.”
“Weren’t you?” He nodded at the scrape on her forehead.
“Jeremy pulled me out of the way before…” She swallowed thickly as emotions closed off her throat. She’d almost died last night. Jason had taken a bullet. Was she hurt? A few bumps and bruises, but nothing serious. Nothing like being shot. She’d been the target. Both Jason and Jeremy had risks their lives to keep her safe.
“I’m not leaving anything in Willy’s hands,” Rand went on, breaking Bree out of her silent guilt trip. His accent seemed more pronounced today.
“What’s wrong with Willy?”
“He’s not me. Neither is Parrish.”
Arrogant. Assertive. And, more than likely, accurate. “I don’t need all this special treatment.”
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