Hard to Handle

by Raven Scott

  Sam wasn’t supposed to care about her motives. He shouldn’t be making her laugh with his sarcasm and charm. And he definitely should not still want her. But he did, and now Kaylee had to rethink everything.

  Maybe Terry was right. Maybe this whole thing had gone far enough. She certainly had enough information on Ross Construction to shut them down and write a great article on city corruption in New Jersey. They were the only other company to bid on the latest project, and it was very obvious they were the ones making the threats. But exposing Ross wasn’t enough. It was just a small player. Operations like that one would continue to come and go, and if she made her play now, she would never get another chance to go after the really big fish.

  No, she needed to see this through. It was the only way to see that the people responsible for destroying her family got what they deserved. But Sam Mackenzie’s role needed to be re-examined.

  What if she just told him the truth? Would he help her, or just shut it down? Was it worth the risk?

  Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She reached over to the stool where it was lying and answered the call on speaker phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, sis,” replied her younger brother, George Jr.

  “Hey, Junior, what’s up?”

  “You around this week?” he asked.

  “Yeah, why?” Kaylee confirmed. “Will you be in town?”

  Junior was a lawyer for a firm in D.C., but he occasionally had client work in New York.

  “Yeah, for a few days. We’re negotiating with a firm there. I’m flying in on Wednesday morning.”

  “That’s great!” Hanging out with Junior was always a fun diversion. “Did you want to meet for dinner Wednesday?”

  “Sure, that should be good. But I’ll confirm in a couple of days.”

  “Okay. How’s Dad doing?”

  “He’s good. The same,” Junior replied. “I stopped by yesterday, but only for a few minutes. Mom’s still in Martha’s Vineyard.”

  “I know. I spoke to her last week. He’s getting worse, Junior,” she said softly.

  “Yeah. He was drinking at ten o’clock in the morning. And it wasn’t his first. We were supposed to go to the driving range at the club, but he didn’t even remember confirming the plans.”

  Kaylee closed her eyes and tried to hold back the tears.

  “Mom says he doesn’t even go to any of their events anymore. He just sits in the house and broods,” she added.

  “Not since you moved to New York,” her brother added.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “No, but it’s true, Mikayla. Even Mom says so.”

  “I’m almost thirty years old, okay? I can’t live with my parents my whole life, doing what they want me to do. It’s not healthy or normal.”

  “I know,” he mumbled. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I’m criticizing. It’s just frustrating, that’s all.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” conceded Kaylee, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “Anyway, let me know if you want to meet up on Wednesday. We’ll get caught up.”

  “Sure, talk to you later.”

  “ Bye.”

  They hung up, and Kaylee gave into the frustration, anger, and sadness. She sobbed quietly as tears poured down her face. None of this was fair for anyone in her family, but most of all for her dad. Four years ago, the happy, successful, and productive man she’d known her whole life had started to slowly fade away, and now the only thing left was an empty shell. He was controlling and bitter, and he drank too much, driving everyone away.

  Only Kaylee knew exactly why, and only she could fix it.

  Eventually, she got out of the tub and got dressed in slim jeans and a flowy black top, trying hard to put on a neutral face that hid the myriad of weighty issues swirling in her mind. She and Sam took a taxi to and from Antonoli Properties in Midtown, stopping to eat a quick lunch next door. They walked around the building so Sam could build his security plan; then Kaylee worked in her office for a bit while Sam did the same inspection inside the company offices. If he noticed her melancholy mood, he didn’t let on.

  They ate dinner at the apartment, reheating lasagna Silvia had made, then spent the evening doing their own thing. Kaylee was grateful for the space. She tried to watch television, but found her mind drifting off. Every once in a while, her eyes would fill up, and she would absently brush the moisture away.

  “Kaylee, what’s wrong?”

  She jumped, startled to find Sam bent down in front of her.

  “What?” she asked, blinking and trying not to sniffle. “Nothing—”

  He cocked a brow at the obvious lie.

  “It’s nothing,” she insisted, shifting to sit up straighter on the sofa. “Just silly girl stuff.”

  Sam looked at her steadily, clearly not put off.

  “Did you need something?” Kaylee finally asked to distract him. She picked up the remote control and started to flip through the channels.

  “I still haven’t looked at your side,” he stated.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” She tried to dismiss him by focusing her attention on the television.

  He didn’t budge, and his expression suggested he wasn’t going to. “Humor me, then you can go back to your girly weeping about nothing in peace.”

  Kaylee finally sighed and put down the remote. She leaned to the right and lifted the left side of her blouse to reveal the side of her stomach. There was a dark blue circle just below her ribs, but it looked worse than it really was. Just tender to the touch, but easy to ignore.

  “Bloody hell, Kaylee! Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam cursed in surprise.

  “It’s nothing, Sam,” she insisted, trying to cover it back up. “Just a little bruise. I hardly feel it.”

  “Stay still!”

  He held the fabric up and ran his fingers gently over the injury. Kaylee tried not to wince, but couldn’t help it.

  Sam swore again and stood up. “Stay right there and don’t move.”

  He returned a few minutes later with a bag of ice wrapped with a dish towel. Kaylee gasped in protest as he briskly tugged her shirt off over her head, tossed it aside, and applied the compress to her side. She slapped away his hand and took hold of the ice.

  “That wasn’t necessary,” snapped Kaylee, shooting him daggers and very aware that she was now sitting in front of him in her bra.

  “It’s very necessary. We should have done this yesterday,” he snapped back. “Why would you hide it from me?”

  “I wasn’t hiding it,” she insisted, looking away. They stayed like that for a long time, both stubbornly holding their ground.

  “Let me see it, again,” Sam finally urged, sounding a little less annoyed with her.

  Kaylee pulled away the compress, and he leaned in close for another inspection, gently pressing the broader area. After the burning cold ice, his hands felt warm and soothing.

  “Okay, that’s enough for now,” he proclaimed with his palm still placed softly over the bruised skin. “We’ll ice it again before you go to bed. And you should sleep on a few pillows so it stays elevated. You were kicked near the stomach. There’s always the risk of internal injuries when you’re hit like that.”

  “Sorry,” Kaylee finally conceded, looking down. “You’re right. I should have shown you right away.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  She opened her mouth, but didn’t have an answer. Not one that would make any sense on its own, that wouldn’t just create more questions.

  “Look at me,” he insisted, lifting her chin with one of his hands. She complied, meeting his intense gaze, hoping he couldn’t read everything in her eyes, including her desires. His brows were curled, jaw clenched tight, and his eyes were a stormy blue. So purely masculine. Her mouth went dry, and her breath became labored. Kaylee swallowed hard and licked her lips. He looked down at her mouth, brushing over it with his thumb. She had no ability to stop he
rself from swiping his flesh with her tongue. One of them groaned, and then they were kissing, open mouthed and wet. She shoved her fingers into his hair, stroked them over his scalp, controlling the pressure and movements she needed.

  Sam picked her up by the hips, and then he was sitting up on the couch with her straddling his thighs. Their lips separated only as long as needed. His hands raked over her back, down to squeeze her ass, pulling her even closer against his body. She clutched at his shoulders, invading his mouth with her tongue in deep strokes. Sam bit at her lips, then licked them soothingly. He deftly unhooked her bra and dragged it off her arms, careful not to agitate her bruise.

  Kaylee broke their kiss to arch her spine and leaned back with her eyes closed. Her need for his touch had drained her of all hesitation and inhibitions. When his hands finally cupped her breasts, she cried out softly with pleasure. He stroked over the sensitive flesh with the palms of his hands, scraping their tips with his skin. She shivered, biting her lips so as not to cry out. He circled the nipples, tugging and squeezing gently until Kaylee was almost panting from the sensations. Every stroke of his finger sent tingles of desire down to her core.

  Then his fingers stopped and his hands fell to her hips. Kaylee moaned with frustration and opened her eyes to find Sam looking at her. While his eyes burned hot and his lips curled with arousal, there was something else there that she couldn’t quickly identify. Or maybe she didn’t want to.... She bit her bottom lip seductively, gripped his T-shirt, and started to pull it up. Sam grabbed her wrist to stop her efforts. They sat there for several heartbeats, eyes locked, both trying to read something from the silence.

  “I can’t do this,” he finally stated in an angry tone.

  Kaylee froze, and her heart stopped. She opened her mouth to say something, but her brain shut down. They still looked at each other.

  “I won’t play backup to another man, Kaylee,” he said sharply. “Never again.”

  She was shaking her head as tears collected in her eyes, blurring his image. The look on his face and the loss of his touch hurt so much, leaving her breathless. No, there is no one else, she wanted to explain. But, of course, she couldn’t. Instead, Kaylee finally looked down, climbed off his lap, and walked away with as much dignity as she could manage.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Ross Construction,” Renee said. “They’re the only other company to submit a proposal for the new government building in Paterson.”

  It was Monday afternoon, and Sam was sitting at a small desk near the front door of Antonoli Properties. That location allowed him to have eyes on Kaylee, and all access points to the offices. But it did not provide any privacy, so Sam had to take extra precautions. Wearing a headset, he was able to have a confidential meeting with Renee through his laptop on the digital platform with video image and document sharing.

  “What do we know about them so far?” he asked, looking at the digital copy of the proposal in question.

  “There’s not much to know. They’ve been in business for three years, popping up out of the blue. They have two other Paterson city government projects on the go, all new building construction or renovations,” she explained.

  “Who owns it?”

  “No one. They use the name Ross, but the owner is listed as PTL Inc. I looked them up too, and they don’t exist.”

  Sam was quiet while he looked through some of the documents that Renee shared online.

  “So they’re a front for another company,” he said, stating the obvious.

  “The other interesting thing is that for all but the first project they worked on in Paterson, they were the only bidder for the work. And for the first project, their proposal was about twenty-five percent cheaper than the others submitted,” she added. “So, it looks like they undercut everyone to win, then built a monopoly with the city, and Bob’s your uncle.”

  “They would still need people working in the municipal offices to make this work.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Renee agreed. “I’ve started a security review on city employees and officials that are connected with vendors and subcontractors, from the mayor down. If we assume it’s through bribes and greasing, there will be a money trail somewhere.”

  “Unless they’re cooperating because of threats or other coercion. Sometimes, that’s more compelling than money,” Sam added. “But let’s see what you come up with in the next few days.”

  “Will do.”

  Sam stroked his jawline, thinking. This whole job was starting to stink of something fishy.

  “What about the perp from Friday? Francesco? Did you find anything useful in his phone records?”

  “Nothing. He’s a dud,” she confirmed. “His friend Lucky, aka Frank Pacini, is a little more interesting. He’s a known associate for one arm of the Augello crime family, but hasn’t done nothing noteworthy. A handful of arrests for petty crimes, one conviction. Based on what Francesco told you, I think he’s more of a broker, finding local thugs to do work for cash, or that sort of thing.”

  “Anything that connects Lucky to Ross Construction or Paterson?” Sam asked.

  “Nothing that I’ve found so far.”

  He checked his watch. It was just after four o’clock. Kaylee had a five o’clock meeting uptown, so they’d have to leave the office soon.

  “Okay, thanks for the update, Thomas,” he told Renee. “Let me know if you have anything at all on the city employees.”

  They ended the digital link, and Sam closed the collaboration portal. He looked up to check the room, and found the office quiet and secure, with the small number of employees busy with their various tasks. There were only two, in addition to Kaylee. Annie Chow was the receptionist. She was a middle-aged Chinese woman with flawless golden-hued ivory skin, a soft voice, and amazing efficiency from what Sam could see after one day. She sat behind a large desk in front of the entrance to the Antonoli office, with the company logo mounted high on the wall behind her. Sam’s makeshift security desk was across from hers on the parallel wall, so he was able to watch her multitask expertly.

  Paul Dixon was the second employee. He was a young recent graduate from a local community college with a diploma in urban planning and design. Born and raised in Brooklyn, his pale complexion contrasted with his dark brown hair, secured in a man bun, and full beard. He worked at a desk in the center of the floor, next to the printer and small kitchen, and seemed diligent and hardworking.

  Kaylee sat in one of two offices along the back of the space. She had spent most of the day in there on phone calls or working on her computer, only leaving to get water from the fridge or go to the bathroom behind Paul’s desk. She ate lunch at her desk, a salad that Annie picked up from the deli next door.

  Sam looked at his watch again, then back at his computer screen, opening another folder on his desktop. It contained one document and a sub-folder. The document had been created on Sunday evening and summarized the results of a search through all government crime databases, from local police to the FBI, with Mikayla Stone-Clement as the subject. There were only two items on the report, both speeding tickets from between three and six years ago. That was it. No record of her as a victim of an assault, or of threats or any kind of reported harassment. Once Sam reviewed those results, he started a second search.

  Lucas Johnson was a genius at cybersecurity and digital applications. His latest creation was an advanced search portal with the ability to access every public and private domain that used standard, off-the-shelf network firewall software. That meant his system could access ninety-five percent of the Internet, then pull the results into a searchable database. Last night, Sam had created a database query with Kaylee as the target, using her real name and pseudonym, from junior high to the present. The search was now complete, and the results were available in a sub-folder on his laptop.

  It was now four-fifteen. Sam had ten minutes to do a security check of the premises before he and Kaylee left for the day. A review of the search results would hav
e to wait until that evening. Sam closed his laptop and collected his things into a soft leather messenger bag, then made his way through the office, out the back door, then around to the front again. Everything seemed normal, with no signs of a threat.

  The only security protection currently in place in the building was a basic alarm system connected to the front door, the rear exit, and the ground-floor windows. Sam had ordered the video surveillance and motion detection equipment required to remotely monitor activity inside and outside the building. The supplies would be delivered Tuesday morning, and Sam planned to have them installed by the afternoon. He had set up a similar solution at Kaylee’s apartment on Sunday afternoon with all video feeds saved to a cloud-based portal accessible from Sam’s laptop and cell phone.

  Back inside, Sam waited by the front door as Kaylee left her office and walked toward him. She wore slim-fitting grey pants, a red blouse, and black shoes with very high heels. A large tote bag hung off her shoulders. She smiled and said good-bye to Paul and Annie. Her eyes met his fleetingly before she walked past him and out the front door. Sam clenched his jaw and followed silently.

  Despite his annoyance, it was better this way. Whatever was going on with Antonoli Properties, Kaylee was trouble. She had the unique ability to mess with his head and destroy his willpower even while she lied to his face. Last night was proof of that. Sam might have to see her every day, watch her every move, but he needed to stay detached from her in every other way. This new coldness between them was the best way to solve this mission and to preserve his sanity and integrity.

  “I had a car delivered earlier this afternoon,” he told her as they walked down the front stairs to the street. “We’ll drive to your meetings and appointments going forward.”

  There was a black 7 Series BMW parked at the curb, with dark tinted windows and large sport tires. Sam opened the passenger door so Kaylee could enter, then sat in the driver’s seat and put his bag in the back seat. He started the engine, checked a few of the custom security features, then pulled out onto the street for the drive to the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Kaylee was meeting with a new vendor of commercial building supplies for the two New York projects Antonoli had under way.