Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Mia (Kindle Worlds)

by Anne L. Parks

  Ben headed straight for the shower, turned the water on, and set about getting the hot Russian woman out of his head and his dick.

  3

  Mia tucked her sleeveless blouse into the peachy-pink pencil skirt. Summer was always a good time to add a splash of color to her usual unofficial CPA black and white work ensembles. Slipping her feet into her heels, she took one final look in the full length mirror behind her bedroom door.

  Violent buzzing caused her cell phone to skitter along the bedside table. Dashing across the room before it fell to the floor, she grabbed, and looked at the screen. A text message from a number she didn't recognize.

  My own sweet Mia.

  She shut her eyes and tossed the phone on her bed as if it had suddenly caught fire.

  No! No! No! He couldn't have found me!

  Hands shaking, she retrieved the phone from the center of the bed, and blocked the number. The act was symbolic, and she knew it. There was nothing she could do to stop the messages from coming. She had a brief reprieve while the psycho was in jail. Apparently, he had been released early, and had found out her number. Did he know where she was living? Was he watching her? Had he started to stalk her again?

  The phone buzzed once again. Mia fumbled, nearly dropping it on the bed. "Hello?"

  "Good morning," said Tabitha. Odd, she rarely called in the morning…unless something was wrong.

  "What's up?" Mia didn't even attempt to cover the concern in her voice.

  "Interesting things going on at the office this morning."

  Mia glanced at the clock. Not even eight yet. "Really? Such as?"

  "Riordan McKenzie's secretary had a heart attack or a stroke—not really sure which—and is in a coma. The prevailing rumors are that she was not handling Riordan's death well."

  "You're not buying it?" Mia asked. Walking into the kitchen, she placed a travel mug under the Keurig, and filled it with coffee.

  "I mean, I heard she worked with him for many years, and don't get me wrong, I would be really upset if something happened to you. But…" she sighed.

  "But?"

  Tabitha breathed heavy into the phone. "I don't buy falling apart like that. Besides, I have it on good authority that she and Riordan were having some pretty heated discussions lately." Tabitha was a great secretary. She worked hard, knew her job inside and out, and was extremely likable. People talked to her freely. "Which leads me to why I'm really calling you."

  Mia grabbed the creamer from the refrigerator and stalled mid turn. "And that would be?" Her heart thumped in her chest.

  "Bartholomew Lawton was just here to see you."

  One of the partners of the firm? Why the hell would need to see her?

  "He was in your office when I arrived—not sure what he was doing, exactly. I noticed your light was on, so I popped my head in to give you crap about beating me in for once. He was looking at all your pictures on the credenza behind your desk. I asked him if there was anything I could do for him, but he just asked that you call his office when you get in. Then he left."

  Mia dropped the creamer on the counter and sprinted into the study. Yanking her desk drawer open, she half expected to find the file she had brought home was gone. Still there. She placed it on the top of the desk cautiously, and peered at it. It seemed to have a life of it's own. If only she knew the magic words to reveal it's dark secrets. Where was Harry Potter when you needed him?

  "Mia? You still there?" Tabitha asked.

  "Yeah," Mia said, and carried the folder into the kitchen with her. "Did you tell Mr. Lawton what time I would be in?"

  "Yes, I said you are usually here by eight-thirty."

  "Okay, call his office at about eight-forty five, and let them know I called to let you know I was stopping to see one of my clients on the way into the office."

  "Oo-kaayy," Tabitha said. "And if they ask which client?"

  "Are the Nationals in town?"

  "Yes, they play this afternoon." Tabitha was a huge Washington Nationals fan and had their schedule, and their roster, committed to memory. She was deeply interested in one of them marrying her, and didn't much care who, as long as they batted over .300 and had a contract that netted a few million a year.

  "Play stupid, and tell them I stopped by to see one of our clients on the team."

  "Everything okay?" Tabitha asked.

  Mia felt bad not letting her assistant know what was going on, but then again, Mia didn't want to involve Tabitha in something that might have been the source of one person's death, and another's coma. Hell, Mia wasn't exactly thrilled she was in this mess.

  "Yeah, just taking some precautions. Nothing for you to worry about." Mia grabbed her purse, attache with blue file inside, and her coffee. "I'll call when I'm on my way in."

  Walking outside, she turned in the opposite direction of the Metro station. She needed a safe place to hide the curious folder while she figured out what the hell was going on—and Mia knew just the place.

  Mia dropped her purse into the bottom drawer of her desk, slid it shut, and glanced at the time on her computer. Just after ten. Locating the best spot to hide the file had taken longer than she had expected, but she was relatively sure it was secure.

  A knock on her door drew her attention. A man in a navy blue suit with gray hair, deep set eyes, and a square jaw stood in the open doorway.

  "Mr. Lawton." Mia stood and wiped her suddenly sweaty hands on her skirt. "I was just about to have Tabitha call your office."

  A smile broke out across his face, but his eyes reminded her of an eagle watching prey. "Mia—such formality. Please, call me Bart." He stepped into the office and sat in one of the chairs before she could come out from behind her desk. "Sit."

  Tabitha poked her head around the corner. "Can I get either of you anything? Coffee?"

  Lawton shook his head. "Just close the door, dear. Thank you."

  The temperature in the room seemed to cool significantly as soon as the door closed. A niggling voice in her head whispered that she was cut off from the world. She tried to shake the thought away as ridiculous—after all, she was in her office with people milling about all over the place. But the presence of Bart Lawton in her office, sitting between her and the only exit, caused a chilly tremor through her body.

  She clasped her hands together and rested them on her desk. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you stopped by earlier this morning."

  "We do what we must to keep clients happy." Crossing his legs, he unbuttoned his suit jacket, and settled back in his seat. "I wanted to talk to you about Riordan McKenzie."

  Her heart pounded in her chest like a drum beating a death march. Calm down, Mia…he's probably talking to all the associates about how they are going to have to pitch in and help with Riordan's clients until they can figure out what to do…

  "I'm not sure how similar his accounts are to mine, but I will do whatever I can to help."

  "That's very nice of you, dear." He peered at her for a moment. Mia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not since her father had caught her sneaking out of the house after midnight had Mia felt such intense scrutiny. She eyed the door again—it looked even farther away than it had a moment earlier.

  "I was wondering what you were meeting with Riordan about two days ago?"

  Mia jerked her gaze back to Lawton. "I—I don't know what you mean. I didn't have a meeting with Riordan." She hated how unsettled she felt, especially when she'd done nothing wrong.

  "Well, the security tapes show something different, I'm afraid. It appears from the footage that Riordan came to your office on the night of his…accident."

  Why did he pause before that word—accident? Maybe Tabitha's friend had been correct, and there was more to how Riordan died than Mia thought.

  Sweat dripped down Mia's back. Her mind went fuzzy. What the hell was going on? "I can assure you, there was no meeting. I found Riordan coming out of my office when I returned from dinner with a client."
r />   "Why do you think he was he in your office?"

  "He said he was going to leave me a note about getting him pre-season hockey tickets. When I told him I couldn't do that, he left."

  "So, he didn't give you anything? A file, perhaps, or any other client information?"

  Shit! He knew about the file. Did he also know she had asked Pearl about it? Should she just come clean and hand it over before she ended up wrapped around a tree or in a coma?

  Then again…she didn't have the file with her. She had taken it home and hidden it. There was no way they would believe she hadn't looked at the contents. And even though there didn't appear to be anything earth-shattering that would warrant anyone's death, she did know the financial statements centered around a charitable foundation.

  And one of the most influential, prominent senators in Washington.

  She swung her head from side-to-side, her focus on the perfect Windsor knot at the base of Lawton's neck. "No," she said, and looked the man straight in the eye. "I don't have any file of his. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful, Mr. Lawton."

  Lawton drew in a deep breath and held it. His jaw was clenched tightly enough for Mia to see the cords in his neck stiffen. He exhaled, and the fake smile slid across his face. He slapped his hands on his knees and stood. The loud clap jolted Mia.

  "Bart," he said, took a couple of steps towards the door, and smiled at her over his shoulder. "I told you to call me Bart."

  Nervous laughter burst from her lungs, short and quick. Mia placed her hand at the base of her throat. "Right…Bart."

  Opening the door, he glanced back at her, and gave her a quick nod. "You'll let me know if you remember anything—or come across any of Riordan's files?"

  "Of course." Heat spread up her neck and into her cheeks. She had a horrible poker face.

  "Thank you. Enjoy your weekend."

  Mia exhaled and slumped back in her chair. She was exhausted. How could a conversation with her boss make her feel as if she'd run a marathon?

  The wheels in her brain spun like a hamster on a running wheel. What had Riordan done? And why the hell did he pull her into this mess?

  If Riordan somehow used the Hutton Foundation for anything illegal, no doubt the firm wanted to find out about it, and mitigate any negligence on their part.

  The question was—how far would they go to keep that from the police, the press, and Senator Hutton?

  The outdoor patio was starting to fill up. Ben checked his phone again. Still no text from Mia. Ten minutes late was still within the realm of acceptable. Fifteen minutes late was rude and offensive. It was twenty minutes past the hour. Five more minutes, then Ben would bolt.

  "Can I get you an appetizer—or something from the bar—while you wait, sir?" The pretty redhead forced a smile on her face that did nothing to hide her irritation with him. The table was prime real estate at this time of day, and the girl was missing out on high dollar tippers while Ben drank iced tea and refused to order until his "date" arrived.

  Ben glanced at the menu. What is the most disgusting thing on here? "Can I have the spicy tongue sandwich?" He handed the menu back to the waitress. "To go, please."

  She smiled, her lips thinned into a white line, and walked away. Ben pulled up the contact info Ice had sent him. Perfect, it included a work address just around the corner from the restaurant. If Mia the Great didn't show up by the time the sandwich arrived, she was going to have lunch delivered to her at work.

  Her great status was swiftly slipping to mediocre—fast approaching unworthy of further effort.

  4

  The intercom on Mia's desk buzzed. "Yes?"

  "You have a visitor," Tabitha said.

  She glanced at the calendar in the sidebar of the computer screen. "No appointment?"

  "No, but he seems a bit…agitated."

  Mia sighed. She didn't need this today. After the disconcerting meeting with her boss this morning, she was still on edge and trying her damnedest to get some work done. Mia walked to her office door and stepped into the reception area where Tabitha sat at her desk. Two chairs were opposite her, one occupied by a seriously muscular male in jeans and a polo shirt.

  He turned his head as she stepped up beside his chair. Holy hot dude! Cobalt blue eyes peered at her. A warm wave flowed through her and settled in the pit of her stomach.

  Please let him be a new client.

  She put her hand out as he stood up and faced her. "Mia Rowland."

  "Ben Wells."

  The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place from where.

  He smirked and shook his head. "Caroline—"

  "Oh, shit!" Well, that's professional. Heat coursed through her, and flooded her chest, neck, and face. Not the erotic warmth from a moment earlier. No, this was deep humiliation and embarrassment on a level she hadn't been on since high school. She took a deep breath, reigned in her potty mouth and flight response, and stepped backwards towards her office. "Ben, please come in."

  He stepped around her into the office. Mia glanced at Tabitha, whose jaw nearly hit her desk as she was mouthing, "Oh my god, he's hot."

  Mia nodded, and cleared her throat. "Could you hold my calls?" Closing the office door, Mia turned toward Ben. "Please have a seat." She sat in the chair next to him, dropped her head, and inhaled. Releasing her breath, she looked up into his eyes, and felt a strange pull she couldn't readily identify. Probably her dormant libido stirring awake. "I'm so embarrassed. I don't know what to say except I'm sorry. I wouldn't blame you for not accepting my apology, but I truly had every intention of meeting you for lunch today."

  Ben quirked up an eyebrow, and even though Mia knew he was skeptical and irritated, she couldn't help but smile. The guy was not only sexy as hell, but all sorts of adorable.

  "Seriously," she said, and made an "x" across her chest. "Cross my heart."

  He stared at her for a moment. "So, what happened to your good intentions?"

  Mia chuckled. So much shit… "One of my colleagues was killed in a car accident earlier this week, and his secretary is now in a coma. Things have been a little crazy around here, as you can imagine. And, as if that wasn't enough, my boss was waiting for me when I arrived this morning—it's been stressful, to say the least."

  "Well, I don't see you packing up any boxes, so you must not have been fired."

  "There's a bright spot, I guess." She took a deep breath. "I really do feel awful and would love to make it up to you. If I break out of here early, would you consider having dinner with me tonight?"

  One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and he slid his gaze over to her. "That's not necessary—"

  "I know, but I really, really want to go out with you." Nice, Mia, that doesn't make you sound desperate at all. That hot rush of blood returned to her cheeks with a vengeance.

  "Okay, where do you want to meet?" he asked on a long exhale.

  Mia smiled, and had to force back a squeal of delight. What the hell? She wasn't a schoolgirl. And after the disaster of her last relationship, she knew better than to get too excited over a guy. Sexy and sweet can swiftly change to domineering and aggressive. "I'll text you the name and address of the restaurant. It's about four blocks from here. Meanwhile, I can get you into one of the Smithsonian Museums if you want to hang out close by."

  "Thanks, but all the Smithsonians are free," he said, that sexy smirk returning.

  She knew that and was delighted that he had caught onto the joke and not taken offense. Score one for him—and me.

  "But you can buy me coffee."

  "Deal." She grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, pulled out a fifty dollar bill, and handed it to him.

  Ben whistled. "Damn, I knew coffee was pricey in DC, but no coffee is worth fifty bucks."

  "Consider it insurance."

  He thrust the bill toward her hand. "I don't want your money."

  "Good, I don't want you to have my money." She smiled, and dropped into the seat next to him again.
"Which is why I will be retrieving forty-five of it from you tonight when I see you at dinner."

  Eyeing the bill, he turned and gazed to her. "I may want a really large coffee."

  "Fine, forty dollars, then."

  Pocketing the money, he stood and followed Mia toward the door.

  "See you tonight," she said.

  "Here's hoping." He stepped through the doorway and halted. Turning back around, he handed her a paper bag she hadn't noticed before. Too busy checking out all of his various bulging muscles? "Since you missed lunch."

  Well, now that was a sucker punch to the gut. She had forgotten about their date, stood him up, and he had still been gentlemanly enough to bring her something to eat.

  She smiled. "Thanks. That was so sweet of you." Pulling the white Styrofoam box out, she lifted the lid and took a look inside. "What is it?"

  "Tongue sandwich."

  A gurgling, groaning, completely unladylike sound came from her throat. "Do you hate me or something?"

  "Well, not anymore." He winked and walked to the elevators.

  Tightening her grip on the door, she fought to stay standing while her knees quivered and threatened to buckle. Wow…Ben Wells. Sweet honey slugged slowly through her veins. If Caroline would've sent a picture of Ben when she was asking Mia to go out with him, there would have been no way in hell Mia would've missed her lunch date. The man was every inch of hot a body could be without bursting into flames and turning to ash.

  How the hell was she going to concentrate on work knowing that was waiting for her when she left the office?

  Ben wondered if he should forego the museums and head to the bar to wait for Mia. Despite wanting to be pissed at her for standing him up, Ben couldn't help the attraction that drew him to her like an industrial strength magnet. Smart ass—practically on the same level as him—school teacher sexy, obviously smart, if the office in the heart of DC was any indication. The hot as fuck bean counter had his attention, intriguing and encouraging him to take a chance.