Cuffed by His Charm: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel

by Stacey Kennedy

  I turn to McKenna and she shakes her head, patting my arm. “It’s fine, nothing in here is going to hurt me.”

  “I won’t be long,” I tell her, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

  I can’t tell from Ryder’s expression what’s up, but as I follow him out of the command center and into the hallway of meeting rooms, he’s far too relaxed for troubling news.

  We stride down the hallway, and this part of Ryder’s company looks like any normal executive company, with a receptionist out front, and meeting rooms and offices lining the corridor. Though when we round the corner of the hallway, I understand perfectly what’s going on, as through the glass walls I spot two men sitting at a rectangular meeting-room table.

  “This is a surprise,” I say to Micah and Darius when I enter the room.

  “I suppose it would be,” Micah says, his bluish gray eyes regarding me closely. He’s dressed to the nines in a designer suit, as always, ready to conquer the real estate world. His black hair is gelled back, all telling me he’s likely come from work. “Sadly, I didn’t have a choice but to come here. You’ve been impossible to get ahold of.”

  Only then do I realize how much I’ve been ignoring non-critical messages. Christ, the only time I’ve even looked at my phone was to call Ryder. My emails have gone unanswered, my texts unopened. “I apologize for dropping off the radar.” I take the closest seat, next to Micah, running a hand over my tired eyes. “Things have been . . .”

  “Tense and complicated,” Darius interjects, sitting across from me. He’s not wearing his classic suit today, but dressed in workout pants and a T-shirt. His brown hair isn’t nearly as put together as Micah’s, and I assume he was at home, telling me Micah likely arranged this meeting.

  Ryder shuts the door behind him then moves to the head of the table, taking a seat. “I’ve updated everyone on your current situation. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I’m actually glad you did.” The last thing I want to do right now is explain all that’s gone on, and I’m glad I don’t have to fill in the details. Exhaustion is weighing heavily on me. All I want to do is find McKenna’s brother so I can sleep for a month. “Why are you all here? What’s going on?” I ask no one in particular.

  “What’s going on?” Micah repeats, eyebrows raised, and there’s a tinge of anger in his voice. “You’re refusing to talk with any of us. I don’t think you need to be asking that question, I think you need to be answering it.”

  His anger is deserved, I know that. I’m looking at my longest friend, the guy I roomed with in college, and part of the reason I own a sex club at all, and I realize what a shit move that was. “To be honest,” I say, letting the exhaustion be heard in my voice, “there isn’t much more to tell than what Ryder’s told you.”

  Darius speaks up then, crossing his arms. “You’re still not any closer to finding McKenna’s brother?”

  “Sadly, no.” I rub my eyes once more then drop my arms onto the table, fiddling with a pen left there. “Even if I do find him, I don’t know what to do to him.”

  “Because you care about his sister?” Ryder asks.

  I nod, flicking the pen open then closed. “Going into all this, I’d been determined to destroy the person behind everything for all the shit they’ve caused us. Now . . .”

  “Things have changed?” Micah offers.

  “Things have become very complicated,” I agree, running my hands across the stubble on my face, the weight of all this pressing on my shoulders. “This began because we thought someone was out to get us.” Maybe that was our own paranoia because we like our privacy. “From what I can tell this isn’t personal at all.”

  I take a deep breath, gather my thoughts. “It all began with you,” I say to Micah, “that very first story, but we didn’t know anything at that point.” I look at Darius. “Then your stories came out, and that’s when we found the bugs in the pub.” To Ryder, I add, “Then it was your turn to be the center of the tabloid scandal, and everything unraveled.” Now we know that Evan had likely been hired by the governor and his goon to plant those bugs in the bar because of Evan’s connection to McKenna. They needed an in, and McKenna was their way to do it. The second the governor knew about Evan’s gambling addiction, and his dire need for money, the plan must have all fallen into place. But Evan wanted more money, selling our stories to the tabloids for greed. Everything made sense now.

  And yet . . . I didn’t feel better, I felt worse.

  “We know who is behind the stories now,” I say, putting a voice to my frustrations, “but all I can see is that if I press charges against the person behind this, I’ll be destroying the person who matters most to me.”

  Darius nods and sighs. “Yes, that is quite the complication.”

  “For months,” I continue, tapping the pen against the table, “we’ve been focused on finding this person and destroying them, professionally, publicly, whatever. And yet, now . . .”

  Ryder interjects, “If you do nothing more than have a firm conversation with McKenna’s brother, ensuring he does not sell any more of our stories, you’re thinking there will be hard feelings between us because you think you’re letting us down, is that it?”

  I drop the pen. “If the situation were reversed, I’m sure I might feel that way.”

  Micah scoffs, leaning back in his seat, folding his arms. “We understand the position you’ve been put in here, and of course, no one blames McKenna at all.”

  Tension I hadn’t known was there suddenly lifts off my shoulders, because the opinion of the men around me matters. Deep down, without knowing it, I had worried that if I didn’t make good on the promises we made to prosecute the person behind this hell they’d put us in, I would be betraying my closest friends. “I think McKenna might need to hear that when this is all said and done.”

  “Something that we can easily do,” says Micah with a smile. He cups my shoulder, and adds, “Has this been a pain in our asses? Yes. But we would never want to come between you and your woman.”

  “I appreciate that,” I say.

  Darius agrees with a nod. “At the end of the day, I’m sure we all want to put this behind us. You will give him a firm talking-to, yes? And perhaps ensure he loses contact with the tabloid.”

  “Undoubtedly,” I confirm. “Though, we need to find him before I can make that happen.”

  Silence falls, and it’s a heavy silence, full of frustrations.

  From day one, none of us has controlled this, and for men who love control, it is certainly something that needs to be regained so we can return to some normalcy again. But it’s not over yet, no matter how much I want it to be.

  “On a happier note,” Micah says, the darkness in his expression gone just that easily, “there is another reason that I’ve been wanting to get ahold of you. I come bringing good news.”

  “Which is?” I ask.

  Micah smiles, fiercely warm. “I proposed to Allie the other night, and she accepted me.”

  “That is wonderful news. Congratulations.” I offer my hand, and as Micah takes it, I wrap my arm around him, smacking his back. In all the years I’ve known Micah, I’ve never seen him the way I’ve seen him with Darius’s baby sister, Allie. She’s his, perfectly matched to him in every way. “When and where is the wedding?”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” Micah explains, still grinning. “We’re doing this rather fast.”

  “How fast?” I ask.

  “Next week fast.”

  I chuckle. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. When you want something, you go for it.”

  “A truer statement has never been said,” Micah replies then shrugs. “We just want to keep the wedding small and low key. We’re getting married on Monday night at a winery in Napa. Nothing big.”

  Darius adds with a smile, “That’s Allie’s influence, I’m sure. She never did like people fawning over her.”

  Micah nods and says dryly, “I had to force the idea of having it at the winery. She w
anted to go to the courthouse.”

  “How romantic,” I mutter.

  “My point exactly.” Micah snorts and shakes his head. “Nevertheless, the second she saw the stone castle at the base of Mount St. Helena, she happily agreed, as long as we kept the attendance list small, to all the important people.” His eyes warmed, as did his expression. “I hope you’ll ask McKenna to come, too.”

  I cock my head. “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all,” he says with a smile. “I’m sure Allie would love to meet the woman that’s snagged our Gabe O’Keefe.”

  I chuckle and rise, pushing my chair back under the table, not wanting to leave McKenna long. “It’s an interesting development for sure.” But right now, I’m more worried about how to fix all this. While I’m pleased about the wedding—thrilled, in fact—the timing makes things a little tricky. I can only hope that I can talk McKenna into coming.

  Everyone rises with me and begins filing out of the room, except for Micah. He waits for me at the door. “Listen, there was one more thing I wanted to ask you.”

  “Oh, yeah, what’s that?” I ask.

  He cups my shoulder and smiles warmly. “My best man, that’s you, right?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I reply, returning the smile.

  “Excellent,” Micah says. “Any black suit, white shirt, and black tie will do.”

  I nod, not worried. I have suits if I need them, I simply don’t wear them often.

  Life’s moving on, I see that now. Darius is married to Taylor. Micah will be married to Allie soon. I have no doubt Ryder will be following soon with Hadley, too. I’d never thought about marriage as a possibility for my life.

  Until now.

  McKenna

  My world is slowly breaking apart, piece by piece. I want to know where Gabe’s gone to, what he’s talking about, asking him to answer all the things that I don’t know. But I know that if it’s about me, Gabe will tell me. My mind wants to circle back to our time in the club, remembering just how he touched me, how he made me feel. But Evan’s there, the cold bucket of water, keeping my thoughts frozen in fear.

  Besides, I have other things to think about. Here, I’m surrounded by people that shouldn’t help me, yet are, and the emotions that are running through me are breaking me down. I feel like I’m being loyal to the wrong people, and the confusion of that is sinking in. On top of that, it’d be so easy to get lost in the icy fear of what those men are doing to Evan. But he brought this on himself, and right now, I’m as scared for him as I am angry.

  “They want something.”

  I blink into the present, find Alex staring at her computer screen. “Pardon?” I ask.

  “These people that took your brother . . .” She turns to me, dressed in a black T-shirt with blackwood security across her chest and tight dark-blue skinny jeans and black flats. “They want something from him.”

  I scoot my chair closer toward her. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because why else would they take him?” She pauses, eyes searching mine, then she rises and moves to a whiteboard that’s hanging on the wall next to her workstation. “Okay, let’s talk this out so we can make sense of it.” She takes a black dry-erase marker off the table. “Let’s go with the theory that he owes money since that’s what makes sense.”

  “Do you usually go with what makes sense?” I ask.

  She glances over her shoulder at me and nods. “It’s rare that something comes out of left field.” She uncaps the marker then writes “money” and draws a circle around it. “If someone owed you money and you wanted that money, and you were a thug, what would you do?”

  “Beat them until they paid up.” I offer the logical assumption.

  She nods and writes “beat up” then draws an arrow to the circle. “My thoughts exactly. They would beat the living snot out of him so that he paid.” She circles “money” again. “But they took him, instead of just leaving him there. Sure, they roughed him up a little bit, but they didn’t beat him to a point where they were saying, ‘pay us or you’re dead.’ ”

  She pauses, draws in a deep breath, then from “money” she draws another arrow and a question mark. “Their motive here wasn’t about making him pay them.” She taps the tip of the marker onto the question mark. “Which makes me believe that there has to be more going on.”

  Hand on her hip, she circled the question mark repeatedly. “This right here, this is their motive behind taking your brother. Everything else makes sense, but”—she points back to the monitor showing one of the guy’s faces—“them taking him like this doesn’t add up.”

  I stare at the words on the board and shake my head. “But what could it be?”

  She shrugs, eyebrows drawn over her intense eyes. “That’s the very question we need to answer. I mean, the bottom line is they didn’t kill him.” She adds another arrow and then writes “has money.” “The logical reason for not killing him is that your brother has money somewhere that they were going to get.”

  I’m reeling at how easily she talks about my brother’s death, but I realize she’s right. Something’s missing in all this. It’s like there’s this big hole we’re not seeing. Which of course could be because this isn’t about money at all, but knowing my brother I’d say that’s unlikely.

  “But,” Alex adds before I can voice that thought, “if he had money somewhere, then why isn’t he back home?” She puts an “X” through “has money.” “It can’t be that, so again we’re back to the question of wondering why they took him.” She circles the question mark again.

  “I take it that’s the frustrating part?”

  She agrees with a nod, tapping the bottom of the marker against her lip. “It is.” With a huff, she replaces the cap on the marker. “But hopefully soon, we’ll at least know who we are dealing with, then we can go from there.”

  “You sound pretty sure you’ll find out who they are,” I say.

  “That’s because I am sure.” She points to the monitor where the face of the guy on the left of Evan is shown. “Right now, I’m running face recognition software against . . . err . . .” She pauses and grins. “Well, against some databases that I have gained access to.”

  I note the sparkle in her eye. “Is this legal?”

  “Do you want to find your brother?” she asks plainly.

  “Yes.”

  “Then don’t ask that question. We have the means to find Evan, some legal, some not, but in the end, we’re not hurting anyone with the information we’re using. So, really does it matter?”

  I stare at her, realizing for the first time ever in my life there is a gray area when it comes to the law. She’s right—even if she is breaking the law, which I guess she is by likely hacking into local law enforcement systems, or worse, CIA and FBI databases, she’s doing so to find a guy who doesn’t deserve to die just because he has a gambling addiction. In the end, she’s working to take out the bad guys. At the same time, I realize that Ryder’s right, too—I don’t want to involve the police because I don’t want to be shut out of this investigation. Being a part of it makes me at least feel like I’m doing something to help find Evan. “No, you’re right,” I agree. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Excellent.” She smiles, focusing back on her computer monitor.

  I inhale deeply, glancing at the screen; now that I know what she’s doing, it brings a little hope. “I really can’t thank you all enough,” I tell her, straight from the heart. “Honestly, what you’re doing for me . . . I’m so grateful.”

  “You don’t need to thank me,” she says softly, giving me a sheepish look. “It’s my job.”

  Silence falls between us, and I take a minute to absorb it all. Both Ryder and Alex are good people. Good in ways that make me so damn angry at Evan. He’s sold stories about Ryder, made him look bad in the tabloids, and these people are the ones trying to save him. It makes me want to protect them . . . protect them from the damage that my brother caused.

/>   “Once we have these guys’ names,” Alex says, dragging me out of my thoughts, “we’ll know exactly who we’re dealing with and what they could want from your brother.” She pauses, considers, then shrugs. “Plus, who their inner circle is and stuff like that.”

  “Which will lead us to Evan?”

  She nods, and her smile speaks of hope. “For as long as I’ve worked with Ryder, we’ve never not found anyone. Whether he’ll be in good condition is another story.”

  I glance back at the on-screen reminder that even if Alex is nice and helping find my brother, her loyalty is to Ryder, not me. I can’t forget that, and I also don’t blame her. “Tell me from your experience,” I say, glancing back at her, “what do you think these people will do to my brother?”

  “Honestly?”

  I nod. “Give it to me.”

  She turns in her swivel chair, facing me, her long ponytail hanging over her shoulder. Her expression is both firm and sympathetic. “If Evan’s not already dead, he will be soon. We need to find him as quick as we can.”

  “Why do you think that?” I barely manage, my insides turning to ice.

  She points to the screen, voice strong. “Because these guys are professionals. I can tell by the way they’re handling him. When you see them leave the hotel, they are calm and steady, and that’s their experience showing. Even his injuries speak of experience, they hit where he’d hurt, but didn’t overdo it either. They wanted his injuries to make a statement, and as you saw, they did.”

  My stomach roils, and I’m trying to catch up.

  “But,” she adds gently, “don’t get too far ahead of yourself either. If they wanted him dead, he would be. And he’s not dead yet, so we keep forging ahead, thinking that he’s alive.”

  “I have to agree with her.”

  I spin in my chair and find Ryder and Gabe entering the room. Gabe’s eyes are on me, soft and strong, and exactly what I need right now. The world suddenly feels warm again, and somehow, I’m better now that he’s back.

  “What have you got?” Ryder asks, settling in behind Alex, as Gabe resumes his place beside me, taking my hand, his other hand sliding over my nape, bringing forth the heat I need.