Rook Security Complete Series

by Camilla Blake

  If she said no, then this whole interaction was probably gonna be over. She’d turn off her phone, go to bed, and wake up in the morning with her life exactly the same as it was right now.

  The thought depressed her.

  She stared at the phone, ultimately deciding to dodge the question.

  Davy…

  There. That was vague enough that he could interpret it however he wanted and she wouldn’t go down in the record books as having said yes or no. Perfect. She was threading the needle like a boss.

  But she laughed and rolled her eyes when she almost immediately received his response.

  Yes, Kitty?

  Ultimately, she decided to just shoot straight. It was what she did best, it was who she was. Why are you texting me at midnight?

  The thinking bubbles immediately popped up, like his answer had sprung instantly into his fingertips, but Geo refused to watch the strand and wait. She clicked out and was halfway through an article that Elena had emailed her about offshore drilling when his reply came in.

  Because I am hungry and lonely. I wish for food and for the company of someone who chooses to be with me, not because that person is on duty and currently paid to do so. That is a pathetically rare occurrence in my life. Also, because I have a question to ask you and I won’t be able to sleep until I do.

  Geo blinked at the words of his text and then clicked out of the strand. They were on an echoing repeat in her brain as she slowly and carefully entered his contact information into her phone. She knew better than to input his real name. If someone were ever to deduce who the members of his East Coast security team were, and they were able to steal or hack into her phone, then his contact information would be up for grabs. She smirked at the nickname she chose for him.

  Then she clicked back into the text and read it over again. So, this mysterious question was for her. The idea was annoyingly scintillating, that Moreau Davy had a private question for her that was keeping him awake at night. That he required a midnight meeting to have answered.

  But that wasn’t the part of the text that was really making her stomach flip. It was the sheer and brutal honesty of the first part of the text that really got her. Geo deeply respected honesty. And she was very familiar with Moreau’s haughty pride—though she’d seen far less of it since his accident. It would have been painful for him to admit to such things.

  Geo sighed. Since there were no longer non-Rook Securities employees staying in the bunker, Moreau would be free to move around the bunker without a shadow. She knew that Atlas was on-call tonight, but he knew Moreau well enough to allow him a trip to the kitchen unattended.

  Instead of answering his text, Geo just sat up from bed, took a deep breath and strode through the dark to her door. She swung it open and squinted into the lit hallway.

  She leaned against her doorframe and waited, her arms crossed in front of her.

  She heard some scrabbling around from Moreau’s room and then the metallic click and thump of his crutches.

  A moment later, his door swung open and there he was. He wore black basketball shorts, a fancy black hoodie that probably cost more than her cell phone and ridiculously white socks. His long swath of hair was braided back from his face in a style that he occasionally wore when it was bothering him. And he’d shaved his face ruthlessly close.

  In short, he looked like a hundred billion bucks.

  Geo wore joggers, a tank top and a sports bra because…boobs.

  Neither of their faces showed much emotion as they surveyed one another for a good long minute. Then, he closed his door behind him and she did the same. Shoulder to shoulder, they made their way to the kitchen.

  His shoulder knocked into hers as he crutched and Geo glanced at him. He was trying to hold back his smile and failing.

  “Nice glasses,” he said to her.

  She fought the urge to adjust the gorgeous green glasses he’d given her. “I wish I could say the same to you.”

  He still wore her heavy, ugly, scratched glasses and she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why.

  When they got to the kitchen, Geo motioned for him to sit. He fell gratefully onto one of the bar stools.

  “Your leg bothering you?” she asked, surveying the contents of the fridge.

  “Mmm. A bit. It is less painful now and more itchy.”

  “Yeah, healing is uncomfortable. You in the mood for leftovers?”

  He shook his head.

  “Ice cream?”

  Another head shake.

  “We could make sandwiches,” she suggested.

  He gave her one more head shake and she whirled to face him, her arms crossed over her chest and her hip flung out. “I’m not a mind reader, Moreau.”

  He, again, attempted to hide his smile. “Sequence made cookies this evening.”

  “Ah!” Geo ran to the bread box and sure enough, there was a fresh batch of Sequence’s vegan pecan coconut cookies that were so good she could totally forget the vegan part.

  She tossed the Ziploc bag in front of Moreau and set the kettle on for tea. When there was nothing left to do but sit down, Geo finally acknowledged the racing of her own heartbeat. She was also a little sweaty again, which irritated her. She could feel his eyes on her as she leaned her elbows against the breakfast bar where he sat. She didn’t sit. It was better if she stood.

  “I never see your hair down like that,” he eventually said.

  Geo looked up at him. She hadn’t thought about it really. “I wear it down when I sleep.”

  His black eyes looked sleepy and deep. She found she could only meet his gaze for a few seconds at a time. “Your hair is quite beautiful.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “So’s yours.”

  He laughed at her dry tone and traced a hand over the French braid he wore down the center of the long section of his hair. His palm made a scratching sound when he got to the artfully buzzed part. “You don’t find this hairstyle ridiculous?”

  “Of course I do. But… I dunno. You’re a movie star. You can do whatever you want and people will think it’s cool.”

  He pointed at her with the cookie he’d just picked up. “That is not true. Movie stars fall from grace all the time.”

  “Yet somehow you’ve managed to stay cool for three decades.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “My publicist just bought a second home in Sardinia. Because I pay him very much to make me cool.”

  “What’s it like to have so many minions?”

  He laughed. “Is that what it seems like? That I have so many people to do my bidding?”

  She shrugged.

  He finished the cookie and reached for another. “No. Sadly, it’s the other way around. I might write the paychecks, but they are the ones who tell me what to do.”

  She frowned and tore a cookie in two. Took the center bite out of each half. “You’re the one who listens to what they say. You’re not a prisoner.”

  He laughed humorlessly. “Not in the traditional sense. No.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but the whistle of the tea cut her off. She poured them both a cup of bedtime tea and strode back over to him.

  “You’re awfully sulky these days.”

  That got a genuine laugh out of him. “I don’t suppose you think that a murder attempt, a concussion, broken ribs, and a broken leg entitle someone to be sulky?”

  She stared at him thoughtfully, warming her hands around her tea and cocking her head to one side. “If I believed that’s what you were actually sulking about, I’d understand it. But I think it’s something else that’s bothering you.”

  He pulled back from her, a look of surprise on his face. She knew, instinctively, that she’d hit the nail on the head, but he didn’t further address it.

  “You think I should tell my management team to fuck off and start doing whatever I want?”

  She shrugged and tore another cookie in two. “That’s probably what I would do.”

  “And if my career burn
s to the ground?”

  “Moreau, aren’t you rich enough? If your career burns to the ground, go buy an island and learn how to windsurf or something.”

  He fiddled with the tea in his hands and Geo got the unsettled feeling that she’d just really hurt his feelings. “Savannah, I don’t work for the money anymore. I’m plenty rich. Like you say. I work because… what else would I do?” He dropped his forehead down to his fist and stared at his tea. “And worse, if I didn’t work, who would I see?”

  It hit her then, the extent of his loneliness. That he hadn’t been exaggerating in his text to her. She knew that his mother had passed away a long time ago. She knew that he was often linked to famous, beautiful women, but never for any length of time. This Joey guy was the only person he’d really referred to as a friend in front of her. For the first time, she really analyzed why the hell someone as rich as Moreau would sell his penthouse to live in a small, Ikea-decorated room in the bunker whenever he was in New York City.

  Because he didn’t have anybody to hang out with.

  She fought down the overwhelming urge to kiss him flat on the lips. Geo wasn’t particularly cuddly. She wasn’t a hugger. But she knew the healing properties of a well-placed kiss and suddenly, all she wanted to do was heal Moreau just the tiniest bit.

  She talked herself back from the ledge, however, and stayed on her side of the breakfast bar.

  “You could… do what other famous people do when they retire from the business.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Party?”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t drink or do drugs. I enjoy getting in bed at ten pm and reading until midnight. I like to wake up early in the morning and drink a quiet cup of coffee. I don’t like loud music. Or strangers. I’ve had enough of strange women agreeing with everything I say while they grab very personal parts of my body. I also don’t enjoy spending money on people who feel as if I owe it to them simply because I am rich and they are not.”

  Geo grabbed another cookie and tore it in two. “So. Not exactly a party animal, then.”

  He smirked at her before his eyes fell to the cookie in her hands. He reached across the counter and grabbed both of her wrists.

  “I simply cannot stand to see you eat another cookie in this way.”

  “What?” She felt frozen. If, literally, any other person on earth had grabbed her in this way, she would have twisted out of the hold and given them a piece of her mind already. But the heat of Moreau’s hands seared her into place. A rush of something hit her blood stream and made her fingertips tingle. She wondered if he could feel her pulse in her wrists.

  “You tear it in two and eat the middle of the cookie first?” he asked incredulously.

  “It’s the best part.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Which is why you should save it for last.”

  “Life’s too short.” Then she leaned forward to bite the cookie she still held in her hand. But, with his grip on her wrists, he yanked her hand toward himself and snatched it right out of her fingers with his teeth.

  She gaped at him, mouth open, while he gave her a satisfied, mouth-closed smile as he chewed. He still held both of her wrists, one that was still bent up close to her body and one that was stretched across the counter, just a few inches from his face.

  He dropped his eyes to her hand and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to the center of her palm before he released her.

  Geo was stunned. He’d never even come close to kissing her before. Though, she had to admit that she’d seen him kiss the cheek of Elena whenever he greeted her. He was European, after all. Maybe it was that kind of thing?

  She felt as if her brain were moving too fast and too slow at the same time. It was like trying to figure out her location at the center of a maze simply by turning a circle. She’d never know where she stood unless she could view the maze from a great height and figure out the lay of the land.

  He took a casual sip of tea and met her eyes, but there was nothing flirtatious in his gaze. This confused her even more. Maybe the kiss on her hand was just friendly?

  Geo’s watch beeped once to show it was one in the morning and she frowned. “I’m on duty in six hours.”

  “Ah.” He zipped up the bag of cookies and drained his tea. “It is bedtime, then.”

  “Right.” Geo finished her tea as well and followed him back to their rooms.

  “Goodnight, Kitty,” he said to her and disappeared into his room before she had a chance to say anything back.

  She closed her door, padded to her bed and pulled her phone out when it, once again, lit up with a message.

  Thank you for the company.

  She felt a little dazed. Sort of exhausted and exposed, the way she felt after getting too much sun at the beach. That’s what being with Moreau was like. Being too close to the sun.

  You never asked me your question.

  She only had to wait for a moment for him to write back. Tomorrow.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next day, Geo didn’t see Moreau barely at all, which she was both relieved and disappointed by. Though she was on duty for most of the day, Moreau no longer needed a shadow and Rook had Geo run errands instead of sit around the bunker. She knew she should be grateful. When they were all on lockdown and stir-crazy, the chance to get out to the real world, even just to the grocery store, was highly coveted.

  But this time, Geo felt an almost overwhelming urge to get back to the bunker immediately. Many of the clients they kept in lockdown were there because of a threat against their lives. In fact, that was how Elena, Naomi, and Bex all came to know and fall in love with Cedric, Sequence, and Atlas.

  For some reason though, being out in civilization while Moreau was locked away in the bunker made the threat against his life seem all that much more real. There was someone out there who wanted him dead. Who tried to murder him. And he wouldn’t be safe until they neutralized whoever it was.

  Rook had had the team brush up on Moreau’s past while he had been en route from LA to the bunker and what she’d learned had been chilling.

  Three different people had been arrested on stalking charges in relation to Moreau over the years. One had even confronted Moreau in his own home.

  She piled her purchases into the back of the SUV and made her way back to the bunker. By the time she’d unloaded everything and checked back in with Rook, her shift was over and she went immediately to her room.

  Whether she was unconsciously avoiding Moreau, or if she truly needed some alone time, she wasn’t sure. But she didn’t go down for dinner either.

  She took a long, scalding hot shower and attempted to gather her thoughts.

  His kiss on the palm of her hand haunted her. In the daylight, with a bit of distance, she could admit to herself that no matter how Euro he might be, that wasn’t the kind of thing two colleagues did to one another. It might be the kind of thing friends did to one another, but only friends who might, someday, have sex with one another.

  And there it was. The thought she’d been avoiding for god knows how long: she kind of, sort of, wanted to have sex with Moreau.

  How could she not? The man was beyond hot. He had a deep voice and a great body. He was cocky and, apparently, sweet.

  And she was pretty sure that he wanted to sleep with her too.

  Why else would he have kissed her like that? Texted her in the middle of the night?

  In the middle of all these thoughts, she got a pinging text message from her father. It quickly brought her whirling, flirty machinations to a screeching halt.

  She picked up her phone and called him.

  “Daddy.”

  “Hi, Vanny.” Only he ever called her that.

  “What’s up? Your text said it was urgent.”

  “Yeah.” His voice was gravelly and deep from decades of smoking cigarettes. “Are you coming over to see me tonight?”

  Guilt washed over her but she beat it back with an internal nine iron. “No. Remember, I�
��m on lockdown with a client.”

  She could hear the frown in his voice. “That boss of yours expects too much. It’s been a month and a half.”

  “It’s only been a few weeks.” Almost four. “And it’s not that big of a deal. I’m getting paid overtime, you know.”

  She wished she could snatch the words back. Her father didn’t need to know anything about her paycheck.

  “That’s something, I guess.”

  She hated the interested note in his tone. As if he were mentally tallying all the extra dollar signs in her bank account. The ones that were going directly to paying for his stay in Ferndale and settling all his bad debts.

  “Did you need something in particular, Daddy?” She hated that, in her father’s world, there was no such thing as just calling to say hi. If he was calling her, it was because he needed something from her. She’d have thought that thirty years on this earth would have lessened the sting of that reality, but no matter what, it still hurt.

  “I need you to fill up my store account again.”

  She lowered herself to the bed. “I filled it up two weeks ago.”

  The store accounts were the only type of currency the residents of Ferndale were allowed to have. Their families put money into the account and the staff changed it out for these token thingies that the residents could use at the Ferndale store. They could buy things like slippers and toothpaste and junk food.

  “What did you do with all that money, Daddy?” She’d put near a thousand dollars in her father’s account. If he’d gone through it in two weeks, then there was zero doubt in her mind that he was running some kind of scam. Either on her or on the other residents.

  Hearing the distrustful tone in her voice, her father quickly backpedaled. “Two weeks ago you filled it up? Then there must still be some left. Must have just been a clerical error. I haven’t barely used any these last two weeks. I’ll just check with the account manager and get it all squared away.”

  “No. I’ll do it. I’ll call in the morning.”