Sexy Savior: A Hero Club Novel

by Kayt Miller

  “Right.” Once the door to her kennel is open, I reach in and touch her face. “Hey, girl.” Sky licks my hand like she hasn’t seen me for weeks. “I love you, Sky. You’re going to be okay.” I really believe it. She’ll be okay just like Alison said.

  I spend twenty or thirty minutes with her, after which I sit down with Dr. Val to talk about Sky’s life for a little while. “You can pick her up after work, if you’d like. Otherwise, we can keep—”

  “No. I’ll be here around six to get her.”

  “We’ll go over at-home care at that time. We have a list of good physical therapy places in LIC and a few in Manhattan.”

  “How do people do that? Work and physical therapy?”

  “Some people prefer to take their animals for appointments, but some of these PT places have pet care while you’re at work. Those are pricey, but—”

  “She’s worth every penny.” And she is. I’ll figure out the money part later. If I have to eat cheap ramen noodles for the next year, I will.

  Standing, I shake Dr. Val’s hand and leave. It’s not quite eight in the morning, so I’ll be early to work, for once. It’s too bad I’m suddenly exhausted. Like the “I could fall asleep standing up kind of exhausted.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Alison

  I’m dreading the day ahead of me, and it stinks because this day started off with a great deal of promise. That is until I realize I may have screwed myself out of a paycheck. One I really need if I ever hope to make it as a self-employed consultant.

  Kissing Ben Schilling was a dumb, stupid, and irresponsible thing to do. But it’s done. It’s out there. Now I’ll have to figure out a way to end things with Ben before they get started, and I need to do it as discreetly as possible. The only good thing about his morning? We didn’t talk about work or that stupid green folder.

  “Good morning, Alison.”

  I’m startled from my thoughts of kisses and doorways by a masculine voice. “Sam.” Too bad it’s him. And so early. As soon as I got back to my apartment, I showered and headed into the office early to get my ducks in a row. Now I kind of wish I hadn’t.

  “Got a lot of people to harass today?”

  Harass? I do have a list of people to talk to, but… “I’m not—”

  He chuckles, and it’s not in a good way. Patting my shoulder, he smirks, “Just joking around.”

  “I’m not harassing people.”

  When his head jerks back, I’m not sure what to expect. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you no longer allowed to joke around here?”

  “Of course you can joke. It’s just—”

  With a snide voice, Sam snaps, “Oh, well, thank you so much, Ms. Kirby, for allowing us—”

  Why won’t this asshole let me finish a goddamn sentence? “Enough.” I hold up my hand. My turn to interrupt. “I have no idea what your problem is, but I’m only going to say this once.”

  I wait for him to speak, but his lips are shut. For once.

  “Back off.”

  His face morphs from surprise to that angry one I saw yesterday. “Or what?”

  “Or you and I will have a sit-down with Graham.”

  “Graham? You cozy with the boss now too? You’ve got Ben and now Morgan doing your bidding?”

  I’m practically sputtering. “I beg your pardon?”

  He leans in so close I can smell remnants of something like whiskey on his breath. “You heard me. I know your type.”

  I lean back as far as I can get. His breath is making me feel a little queasy. “And what type is that?” I can’t wait to hear this.

  Sam leans in closer. “The kind who uses their looks to get men to bend to their whims.”

  I feel the heat rise from my chest up to my cheeks. I’ve never been spoken to like that before, so I have no idea what to do. “That’s ridiculous.” I clear my throat. “Please back away from me.”

  “Come on now,” he coos, staying put.

  “Move. Away.” I place my palms on his chest, ready to push, when he finally moves backward. He must catch his foot on something, because he goes down hard and fast. I hear his head make contact with the floor. It’s carpeted, but I’m sure it’s concrete underneath the thin industrial carpeting.

  “Sam?” My voice is a squeak. Bending closer, I place my hand on his chest. “Sam!” I say loudly. Damn. He’s out like a light.

  “What happened?”

  I sigh in relief when I hear the sound of Meghan Lincoln’s voice above us.

  “He fell,” I say quickly. “He hit his head.” Looking up at her, I add, “I think he’s been drinking. His breath was….” Looking down at Sam, I decide to wait on all of that. “Call 9-1-1.”

  “Jesus fucking hell.” Graham actually spits a little when he hears what happened this morning. Even the part where I smelled alcohol on his breath. “Where did they take him?”

  “I’m not sure.” I was there when the paramedics arrived, and I told them what I knew. Sam had regained consciousness by then. Before they carted him off, he looked at me, and I’d like to tell you he smiled at me, but it was more of a blank stare.

  When Graham reaches for his phone, I hear him snap, “Find out where they took Sam!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ben

  “Did you hear?” I look up and see Clive standing at my desk.

  “Hear what?” I’m not sure why, but I’m sort of happy to see the asshole.

  “They took Sam out of here.”

  I blink at him a few times. A few hundred times. “Excuse me?”

  “I said”—Clive rolls his eyes—“they took Sam Ford out of the building. On a stretcher.”

  “When?”

  “Earlier.”

  “Earlier? When? Why?”

  Clive shrugs.

  What the hell is he talking about? “Tell me what happened.” I know he knows something because Clive always knows shit.

  “I heard Alison had something to do with it. Someone saw her talking to the paramedics.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Earlier. Geez, man,” he grumbles. “Pay attention. It all happened today, and since it’s barely eleven o’clock in the morning….”

  “Right.” I look up at Clive and find him staring at me like I’m supposed to do something. “Do you want me to do something?”

  “Can you find out what happened?”

  “I’ll try. I’ll ask around.”

  “You’ll get more than I will. Everyone’s pissed at me because they think I wrote that green folder.”

  Think he wrote it? “You didn’t?”

  Clive shakes his head, then shrugs.

  Hmm. I’m not sure what to think about that, but then our eyes meet, and for some reason, I believe him. “So, someone set you up?”

  He shrugs again, and I’m not sure how to take that. “I knew you didn’t write it.” With a snort, he adds, “I mean, I kept hearing how you’re about to be fired because of stuff in that folder, so….”

  “Who told you I was getting fired?”

  He arches his brow at me but says nothing.

  “Okay,” I say releasing a breath. “So, you want me to get answers for you, but you won’t tell me that?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.” Clive looks down at his hands and begins to fidget.

  “I guess we’re done here,” I mumble under my breath.

  “You’ll still check, though?”

  “I will.” I hesitate. “Maybe Graham will send out an email.”

  We both chuckle at that notion. Clive rolls his eyes again. He does that so often that I’m surprised they haven’t stuck that way. “He’s not going to tell us.”

  I walk around my desk until we’re face-to-face. Well, face to chest, since I’m about eight inches taller than Clive. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  For the first time in about a year, Clive smiles at me, and it’s a real one rather than a sneer. “Thanks, man.”

  “Right. Let me go see what I can fi
nd out.”

  I step out of the office and make my way to the conference room where Alison has set up shop. When I get there, it’s empty. Next, I look in the break room. She’s not there either, but Brendan, Silvia, and Lindsay are, whispering.

  “Hey,” I say with a wave. “What’s up?”

  “Sam’s gone,” Lindsay speaks up.

  I do my best to act surprised. “Gone?”

  Silvia McAllister snickers. “He fell or something.”

  “He fell?”

  I’m not sure who, but I distinctly hear someone say, “He was talking to that consultant.”

  “You’re his buddy. I’m surprised you’re not already at the hospital.” Brendan says.

  I shake my head. “No. We’re not really buddies.” Not anymore. Not after all the stuff he said.

  “You have drinks with him,” Silvia snaps. “All the time.”

  I’m not sure where all this animosity is coming from. I thought we were all on good terms, but from the tone of their voices here this morning, I’m guessing I was wrong. “So did you. We all did. All the managers have been out with him a time or two.” Yes, I end up going out with him more than the others, but I’m the only one still single in this room. I’ve got nothing but time on my hands.

  “Not me,” snaps Lindsay Barker. “He never once invited me.”

  “That’s true.” Silvia’s voice has softened.

  I can’t do this right now. Besides, I don’t have a thing to do with any of that. That’s between Sam and them.

  As I turn to leave the room, Brendan asks, “Was that you on the news the other night? About the bus?”

  For a second, my back goes rigid. I kept my mouth shut about that after it became apparent that people think it’s a joke. That I’m a joke.

  Looking back, I reply, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You live in Long Island City, yeah?”

  I nod.

  “You have a little dog.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, and he’s got Clark Kent glasses,” Lindsay says like she’s just solved a crime.

  I do have glasses that some could describe as Clark Kent-like, but I only wear them when I take out my contacts—or when they get punched out of my eye. “Coincidence.”

  “What’s a coincidence?” I quickly turn at the pretty voice behind me. Alison.

  “We were just trying to figure out if our resident superhero saved lives by stopping a moving bus the other night.” Brendan again.

  I glance down at Alison. She’s looking back up at me with her mouth agape. “Was that you?” Her voice is almost a whisper.

  I stare into her eyes. I want to say no so the others in the room will drop it, but I won’t lie to her. My head moves down ever so slightly. But then I turn to the other three. “Nah, it wasn’t me.”

  Looking back down at her, I ask, “Can I speak with you a moment? In your office?”

  She doesn’t reply, only nods. I follow her out of the break room and down the hallway. Once we get to the conference room, she steps inside, holding the door for me. As soon as it’s shut, she squeaks, “Oh my God. It’s all true.”

  “What’s all true?”

  “You stopped that bus.” Her face has flushed to a hot pink color. “You’ve saved people before, haven’t you?”

  “Saved people?” I shrug. “I’ve helped some people out. Like you.” I look down at her spiky heel. “Some were more appreciative than others.”

  I chuckle at that, and when I catch the little smirk on her lips, I laugh again.

  Turning, Alison moves to the large table and sits in the chair facing the glass wall. I decide to sit opposite, my back to the wall. With a sigh and some crossed fingers, she smiles. “You’re a real-life hero, Ben.”

  Now it’s my turn to blush. “No. Not really.” In an attempt to change the subject, I quickly ask, “So, what happened to Sam?”

  The look of shock on her face tells me she’s surprised at the question.

  “I heard you were there,” I continue.

  Her head moves up and down slowly. “He approached me. Said some things he shouldn’t have—probably because he’d been drinking.”

  He could have been drinking already, or it could have been left over from last night, but I keep that to myself. “What did he say?” I’m instantly angry.

  “Nothing.” She waves it off. “He tripped on something, and when he fell, he hit his head on the floor. He was out cold.”

  Whoa. “You called for help?”

  “Meghan did.”

  “Clive said someone saw you upstairs. Did you tell Graham what happened?”

  She nods, but her expression shows surprise. “You spoke to Clive?”

  “Yeah.” I chuckle. “I did. It was nice.” It really was. I hope it stays that way. “What did Graham say?”

  “He wanted to know which hospital, but I didn’t know.”

  “Probably New York-Presbyterian. It’s closest.” I’ll need to try to go over there. Lunchtime is my only option today since I need to pick Sky up right after work.

  I stand and make my way to the door. I’ve got a lot to do if I’m gonna visit Sam today.

  “How’s Sky? I’m sorry I forgot to ask.”

  I face her with a smile. “She’s doing well. I’ll pick her up after work.” And I’m more excited than I can say.

  “I’d like to officially meet her… when she’s feeling better, of course.”

  “Come over later,” I say quietly. “I’ll cook dinner.” I hope she likes pasta sauce from a jar. “Seven thirty?” That’ll give me enough time to get my pup and get her set up at home plus cook.

  She looks hesitant, but then she asks, “What’s your address?” It’s a good sign.

  I list off the address along with my cell number so she can let me know when she gets to my building.

  And it’s official. I’ve got a date. Hot damn.

  “Oh,. I turn before I step out of the conference room.

  “Yeah?”

  “Clive told me that he didn’t create the green folder.”

  “But it’s a green folder.”

  I shrug. “There used to be a box of them on top of his filing cabinet. Anyone could have taken one.” I shake my head. “He’s getting treated like crap because everyone thinks he did it.”

  “Wow.” She sits down in her chair. “That makes this much less cut and dry.” Peering up at me, she asks, “Who would bother taking a green folder?”

  I know I’ve got a frown on my face now. It can’t be helped. “I have no idea.”

  “He tripped. Hit his head,” I tell Clive, leaving off the part about the drinking.

  “Seriously?” he asks, looking astonished.

  “That’s the word on the street. Or in this case, the break room.” I chuckle.

  “Is he okay?”

  “That, I can’t say. Hopefully. I’m going to see if I can visit him over lunch.”

  “Yeah?” Clive sighs. “Maybe we should all go.”

  “I’m not sure where they took him. It’s a good idea, but maybe not all at once.”

  “True.” He nods like he’s giving that some thought. “Why don’t I call around to see where he is, and we can go together.”

  This is a surprise. “Sure. That’d be great. Thank you, Clive.”

  If the look of sincere shock on his face tells me anything, it’s that I must not have been very nice to the guy. Didn’t I ever thank him? Jesus. No wonder he hates me.

  “He’s got two daughters. I wonder if they know.”

  That’s a good question. His ex-wife doesn’t live in New York, and neither do the girls. “I think they’re both back in Wisconsin.”

  Clive has a pen in hand ready to add something to his list. I’ve seen it a million times. The guy loves his lists. “Should I try to find them?”

  “Nah. We can ask Sam about that over lunch.”

  “Right. Good plan.”

  I’m out of his fancy office into my
tiny one, ready to get shit done because the sooner I get through my list, the sooner I can get Sky and then cook my girl some dinner.

  My two girls.

  Now that has a nice ring to it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Alison

  “Why did I say yes to this?” I’ve walked up to the front door of his building three times and walked away twice. “I shouldn’t be here.” This is wrong. But I really want to see Sky, not to mention the fact that I’m hungry.

  I know, excuses, excuses.

  In my defense, with all of the hullabaloo today, I didn’t get lunch. I ate an old granola bar that I found at the bottom of my purse. Plus I spent the afternoon talking with five more people, but I couldn’t get any real information out of them because all they wanted to talk about was Sam.

  Correction: I did get some information out of them. I guess Sam getting injured has made some of them rather sentimental. A few tears were even shed as they regaled me with stories about Sam being the funniest, best boss in the entire world. I guess it’s possible.

  Mo, one of the staff who works in the art department, said something kind of interesting. I almost missed it, but thankfully I didn’t. She said, “That poor man. I feel so sorry for him. He’s got no one. It’s no wonder he searches the break room fridge for something good to eat.”

  The urge to choke a little bit was strong. And laugh. At least that takes off number three from my list of complaints. I wonder how many other people knew it was Sam stealing lunches. Probably everyone. I mean, who would complain about the boss doing something like that?

  I guess whoever wrote up the green folder complained. And maybe they already knew it was Sam but didn’t want to name names. And if that’s the case, it’s reasonable to assume he or she knows who has been stealing ideas as well.

  Now all I need to figure out is who created this folder.

  “Oh, screw it.” With a deep breath, I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Ben. I’m here.