by Joyce Wright
Carli was as surprised as her father.
“Why?”
“I had a crush on your wife. Not that she noticed me or any other man. Hilary Jimenez was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and when you were fighting, her eyes never left you. And then you had that daughter . . . I figured that was as good as it could be. I was sorry when your wife died.”
“Yeah,” Carlos said, taking refuge in his coffee.
“I guess . . . should I ask your permission to marry your daughter?”
Carlos snorted. “Carli? She’s been making up her own mind since she was in diapers. If she wants to marry you, there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
“Would you stop it if you could?”
“”You’re not good enough for her,” Carlos told him bluntly.
Mick’s face fell in shock and disappointment.
“Dad—“ Carli protested.
“But no one would be. Wait until you have a daughter; you’ll see what I mean.”
Her dad squeezed her arm as the crowd cheered. “He did it!”
Carli was crying in relief. The fight was over. Mick’s luck had held, and the referee had raised his arm in victory. But it had been a long fight; she knew, from her father, how sore Mick would be the next day. Guerrara was ten years younger, and a lot hungrier. Mick had admitted to her before the fight that he’d lost the hunger. Marriage gave him a different perspective. He hadn’t announced his retirement, but Carli and her father knew. Mick wanted to focus on his business, and he’d hired his father-in-law to help. He wanted, he had told Carlos, to develop and train young boxing talent and Carlos was the perfect candidate for the job.
Carli had never expected her husband and her father to become business partners; nor had she expected them to become friends. Carlos spent a lot of time at the Mantoro home, and Carli learned why the house was so big. It was because he wanted family around him; when Carlos visited, or Rita, or other family members, they had their own room.
But there were still plenty of rooms for children, Mick had told her on their wedding night six months ago. She’d been an only child, and was in accord with Mick’s desire for a large family. As his eyes scanned the crowd and found her, she waved her arms to attract his attention. He saw her, and smiled. She saw his lips move. She couldn’t hear his voice over the noise of the clapping crowd, but she could read his lips. “Yo, Carli!”
Trophies, championships, they were secondary. She had feared for the outcome of this bout, her father’s defeat etched in her memory so strongly that she dreaded the day of the fight. She had news for Mick that she’d withheld because, if he lost, she wanted to have good news to tell him.
But he’d won. He’d said he would, but champions always said that. She smiled jubilantly at him. The man she’d regarded as her family’s enemy was the cornerstone of her life. His business interests, her father’s involvement, her studies, all these now would move to the side, because the child she carried in her body—as big as a blueberry, the obstetrician told her—would be the new champion in their lives.
**THE END**
Chapter 1
“Put up or shut up,” Asia Ferrell muttered as she pulled into a parking space at General Supply Warehouse, Inc--GSW. She turned off the engine and leaned her head back against the seat. Returning to Spring Valley, Maryland after seven years away and to the same office she had started out at was nowhere on her ten year plan.
But what about her life right now was on her ten year plan? Back in town for less than five days and her aunts were already pestering her to find a good man and get serious about her accounting career. Little did they know she’d only requested this transfer so she could put in her notice and go to work for Uncle Mike, managing his diner. She couldn’t wait to learn his old soul food recipes and experiment with some new ones.
It hadn’t worked out that way yet. Instead of putting in her notice, she was getting ready to walk into the one place she swore she would never return to. Why? Because of her insane need to please her father.
Right before his wedding, she had been all set to tell him she wanted to quit working for GSW. Before she could say a word though, he had begged her to return to the home office and look over the books while he was away on his honeymoon. He believed there was a discrepancy of some sort. She could have turned him down, but her father never asked her for anything.
So instead of quitting, here she was, filling in for him as head accountant. She climbed out of her car and headed toward the building.
“Asia Ferrell, well, well, you really are back. I read the memo, but didn’t think you’d actually have the nerve.”
Asia paused and closed her eyes. Peter Matthews. It figured that the first person she’d run into would be the supervisor she’d had an affair with seven years ago. Just perfect. He was the reason she’d spent the last seven years in Germany in disgrace.
She opened her eyes and turned to watch as Peter caught up with her. And wow, did he look good. Light brown skin glowing, his curly hair cut short, and a navy blue suit that fit him perfectly, definitely custom, no off the rack clothes for him. The glasses she had always thought were so sexy were updated and looked better than ever. Dang, why did he have to look good?
“Peter,” she acknowledged because there was no way she was going to smile and act as though they were old pals. To give herself credit, he hadn’t told her he was engaged when she started seeing him. She’d come to work at GSW after college graduation—the company had helped pay for her education. Peter claimed the need for secrecy was due to office rules against dating coworkers. The truth was he and the boss’s daughter, Lucy, were engaged.
The only reason Lucy’s father, Skip, hadn’t fired her on the spot was because he knew he could get more work out of her if he threatened to fire her father instead. Thank God, her dad was moving to Nashville with his new wife and changing jobs in less than a month. She no longer had to worry about him.
Looking her up and down like, Peter said, “I’ve thought about you…Asia.”
What? Was she supposed to drop to her knees and be thankful? She didn’t think so. “No, we’re not doing this, Peter.” She pointed her finger from him to her. “You and me, we’re nothing. Don’t think about me. Don’t look at me. I’m out of here in two weeks. Two weeks. Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”
Leaving him with his mouth open, she stormed past him into the building without looking back. Yes, something right today. It took everything she had not to look back. She patted her curls around her shoulders and took a deep breath. Before she could step through the security doors into the lobby, a hand grabbed her arm like a vice. What—
“No. You listen to me, little girl. I run things around here now. Skip might be the boss in the sky, but I run everything here on the ground. I can make your time heaven. Or hell. You choose.”
She narrowed her eyes and took a good look at Peter. No, he wasn’t as attractive as he used to be. His eyes that had once been warm were now cold and hard. “Let go of me.”
“Remember what I said. Just like before, your relationship with me can make you or break you.” He shoved her arm away and walked through the doors. Furious tears filled her eyes. She hated him. Now it was even harder to walk through those doors.
Put up or shut up, Asia. Both, this time.
Chapter 2
“Oh my Lord, check out the fine new girl in the front office.”
Damien glanced back over Mac’s shoulder and came to a stop in the middle of the lobby. What the heck? Why hadn’t anyone told him?
Asia Ferrell stood just a few feet away from him talking with Karen, the front desk receptionist. He’d seen Franklin just last week before his wedding, and he’d said nothing. Asia Ferrell back in Spring Valley, back at GSW after seven long years. Somehow feeling his stare, Asia stopped talking midsentence and glanced his way. She looked as stunned as he felt before she narrowed her eyes, lifted her chin, and turned pointedly away from him. Same old princess.
“
She’s not new,” he said. She’s old, but damn, did she look brand new. Last time he’d seen her, her hair was straight and long and everything about her had been overdone including the man she was with. His hands fisted just thinking of Peter Matthews, the boss’s son in law.
Now, her hair fell around her shoulders in long curls, the ones he remembered from when they were kids, the ones he remembered pulling on when they were no longer kids. His body tightened. She was dressed in a short black skirt with black tights and high heeled black boots—he loved her in boots. Why was she back now?
He turned away and started walking toward the warehouse in silence, thinking “What was that stupid Humphrey Bogart line?... Of all the gin joints in the world and she had to walk into mine.” Only GSW wasn’t a gin joint, and this wasn’t World War II. He gritted his teeth. But something violent could take place soon if he didn’t get to the bottom of the weapons that were somehow slipping through his warehouse and finding their way into the streets. How was he going to prevent any more bloodshed, make the bad guys pay, and keep Asia safe all at the same time? He needed a beer, and it wasn’t even 9 a.m.
As he typed in the code that opened the warehouse security door, he realized Mac was watching him closely. “What?”
“She’s the one isn’t she?”
The one? Damien was silent. Mac was his best friend at work, his second in command, a big beefy Hispanic dude who loved his family as much as Damien loved his. Now he’d played his hand. Truth or Dare. He studied Mac and weighed the cost of telling him the truth. There wasn’t one he could discern.
“She’s the one,” he agreed. He and Mac had this thing they agreed on: there was one perfect girl out there for each of them, the girl who had ruined them for every other girl. Asia was his, and she had definitely ruined him when she left.
He could have denied it, but he figured it was written all over his face when he looked at her. Unfortunately for him, Asia had captured his heart before they’d even hit the fifth grade. Everyone had known he was the scrawny white kid pining for the spunky black girl. He wasn’t as skinny now, but he was sure, she was just as deliciously spunky.
Chapter 3
Everyone else in the front office had left two hours ago, but Asia was still working. It had taken her nearly two hours to clean out the filthy little gray cubicle Peter had assigned her. Another two hours were wasted getting her computer and password to work—more compliments of Peter she was sure.
Now she studied the numbers, one perfect row after the next. What had her father seen that she was missing? Everything was balanced, not too much profit and zero debt, exactly what she wanted to see as an accountant. A bit more profit would be nice, but these numbers would work well when they filed taxes at the end of the fiscal year.
She stretched her arms above her head and rolled her neck in a circle to ease its stiffness. She was done. Fulfilled her promise to her dad faster than she had expected. There were no inconsistencies. Soon she could put in her notice and continue on with her life.
“Just look for me, Asia. Below the surface.” Her father’s voice seemed to whisper in her ear.
Below the surface. Okay. She leaned forward again. Thirty minutes later she frowned. The numbers were maybe a little too perfect. Everything added up too well, each month within pennies of the previous month. Every season, GSW’s numbers added up mostly the same, no big differences between winter when more winter merchandise was ordered and summer when different items would be ordered. Hmm. What were the chances? And where could she find out more about the ordering?
General Supply Warehouse was a huge company with facilities across the states, in Germany and now in China, but Spring Valley was the original location with one of the largest warehouses of any company on the east coast. Their supplies were ordered by the U.S. government, private companies, large and small, as well as the military. Perfect balance sheets at one location, month after month were nearly impossible.
Who had taken over Damien’s father’s job of warehouse supervisor when he retired last year? More research. Five minutes later, she closed her eyes. Of course. Damien freakin’ Grimaldi had. Damien, the first boy she ever loved had. Damien was the only man she had never forgotten, the one she measured every other man against. She’d seen him just that morning in the lobby, looking better than ever. If Peter had controlled her mind years ago, Damien had controlled everything else.
If she wanted to get out of this job sooner rather than later, she would need to ask Damien some questions. Not during work hours though. She stepped out of the building and headed toward the parking lot, but caught sight of something she didn’t think she would ever see again: Damien’s Harley. It could only be his. She had spent lots of hours with her arms wrapped around Damien, straddling the Harley as they roared into the mountains.
It was after hours; maybe she could talk to him tonight after all. Back in the building, she pushed the intercom for the warehouse. His voice responded. “Yes?”
“Hey, Damien. It’s Asia. Let me back.”
Silence. “Why, Princess?”
Argh. He still hated her. “Never mind.” She had turned around to leave when the buzzer sounded unlocking the door. Put up, she commanded herself. Get it over with.
She walked into the warehouse, her boots echoing in the silence. God, how much time had she spent in here? When they were teenagers, both she and Damien had worked during the summer inventory weeks, counting nails, pencils, pens, staples. They’d even snuck away to make out in the closet where the empty boxes were kept.
Nothing in here had changed. Dark, musty smelling, rows and rows of shelves that held everything from screws to staplers to snow blowers. Forklifts lined one wall. Pallets with shrink-wrapped boxes lined another.
“What do you want?” Damien sat on a stool in front of one of the computers, a gray button down shirt rolled up to his elbows, jeans stretched across his thighs, arms crossed over his chest. His hard blue-eyed glare was enough to make her want to turn around, forget the books, and leave.
He nodded toward the shelves. “Here to help? Want to count some inventory?” He stood and walked toward her, his stance assertive, territorial. “We had some fun inventorying, didn’t we, Asia?” He moved his hips subtly and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. How old was he?
“What? Don’t like a reminder of how you used to slum it?”
She opened her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t slumming. Both our dads worked in here then. Our moms, too.” Before her mom had died. Before her dad had left her with her aunts and gone back to school.
“But it wasn’t good enough for you, was it, princess? They were never good enough.” He pushed his thumb in the direction of the front office. “You always wanted to be front office staff.”
“Shut up.” He was right though; that’s one of the reasons she had ended up with Peter.
He stopped, shrugged. “Whatever. What do you want, Asia? Why are you even here? Your dad put in his notice; I thought you wouldn’t be far behind.”
Not here. Her instinct told her this was the wrong place and the wrong time. She lowered her voice. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Could we meet later? Maybe grab a coffee somewhere?” With her eyes, she tried to tell him it was a secret, that this conversation needed to stay between them. Please let him remember that look.
He opened his mouth, probably about to fight with her, but narrowed his eyes instead. “I’m living at home, over the garage. Come over around eight; go see my mom and Abby first.” He said the words like those were his terms for agreeing to meet and agreeing to keep it quiet. She studied him. He knew something.
“Sure. I wanted to see them anyway,” She bluffed. “It’s been a long time.”
He shut down the computer, grabbed his leather jacket from the long row of hooks by the door. “Too long, princess. Too long.” He clicked off the lights and walked through the doors without looking back.
God, he was impossible. She followed him
quickly, stumbling over her own feet in the dark.
Chapter 4
Asia parked her car in front of the Grimaldi family split level. Damien’s father had been the first of any of the warehouse workers she knew of to move his family into the suburbs. How he saved the money to move, no one knew.
God, she had loved spending time at this house back when her family was still intact. Her mom had been best friends with Mrs. Grimaldi. White and black meant nothing to the two women who had bonded over order taking at the warehouse, scrapbooking, and knitting.
She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. After her mom had died in a pileup on the interstate, she couldn’t bring herself to come back. Her father had fallen apart and sent her to live with his sisters. They had barely known her. She’d turned her back on Damien, his sister, and his mom. She hadn’t wanted to feel anything after losing her mom.
Climbing out of the car, she realized she didn’t have the courage to put up or shut up on this one. Avoidance was best. She walked around to the back of the house and up the steps that led to the garage apartment.
Damien opened the door on her first knock. He was dressed in a black T-shirt and faded jeans, his hair wet and hanging around his ears from a shower. He looked too good.
“What do you want, Asia?”
His irritated tone snapped her back to her senses. What did she want? Put up. “Your help.” She waved the blue folder she had brought from work, and pushed past him into his apartment. After all these years, why was he living at home and still working at GSW? He had never seemed the type.
“You live at home?”
He shrugged. “Did you stop by and see my mom? Abby?”
She bit her lip, then released it. ”I came straight here. I needed to talk to you. It’s important.”