Roarke’s brother had believed this spiel once. He’d sat in on a meeting with Arden and Darren and other top execs and believed in what he was doing, that he was using his skills to make the Internet a safer place. A better place. And it’d all been a goddamn lie.
Wren didn’t say much, other than soft murmurs of interest here and there. She was playing her part and playing it well. Even though Roarke was sure that inside, she was a massive tangle of nerves.
Finally Darren stopped talking. “But that’s enough of that. I’d love to hear why you agreed to go on a date with me. I’ve been watching you for weeks.”
He leaned forward and covered her hand with his.
Oh fuck, Roarke was going to throw up in his mouth.
“He’s the worst kind of fuckboy,” Marisol muttered behind me.
“Shhhh,” Erick hushed her.
She stuck out her tongue at him.
Wren delayed answering by once again lifting her wineglass. Roarke racked his brain to think of an ulterior motive as to why Darren would ask that question. Was it the narcissist in the guy? Or was he testing Wren?
“Well,” Wren said as she placed her glass on the table, “when you first noticed me, it caught me off guard. I’d just ended a relationship before I moved here. And I wasn’t looking to meet anyone so soon. But I guess…” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice had dipped seductively. “You were persistent. And I’ve always been attracted to powerful men.”
Marisol made a gagging sound from behind Roarke.
Darren seemed to like that answer. His grin spread over his face like an oil slick. “And you think I’m a powerful man, do you?”
Roarke was beginning to think Darren was just a narcissist.
“Of course,” Wren said quickly. “You own Alpha, and now I know that you also help your father run his business.”
“Yes, I do. A lot of people don’t realize that, since we spend a lot of time at his home office, but I’m very involved.”
She leaned forward so her hair and the tip of her nose were visible in the frame. “I can’t imagine you have time for anything else. That would be truly impressive.”
Darren’s chest puffed out. “Oh Angel, you have no idea all the things I have my fingers in.”
“Are they secret?” Wren was impressive as hell, sounding intrigued and turned on at the same time.
Darren tapped his rings on the stem of his glass. “Some are…unconventional.”
“Wow,” Wren breathed out.
It was like Darren couldn’t help himself. “And one such venture just netted us a nice windfall, so that’s something to celebrate.” He held up his glass in a cheers gesture.
Pain registered in Roarke’s brain, and it took him a minute to realize he was digging his nails into his thigh through the worn denim of his jeans. Fuck, his entire body was one tight knot. He had to relax a bit or he wasn’t going to be able to move a muscle tomorrow.
“Well, congratulations,” Wren said as they clinked glasses.
“He might be talking about the zero-day,” Erick mumbled to himself. The sound of Jock’s typing grew louder in the small confines of the van.
“In fact”—Darren took a sip of his wine and swirled it, studying her over the rim of the glass in a way that raised Roarke’s blood pressure—“my parents are having an anniversary party in a week. I haven’t asked anyone to accompany me yet, but I’d be happy to show you around. It’s a very impressive estate.”
Marisol whistled. “Bingo.”
Roarke knew what this meant—an invitation to the Saltner house would give them access to Saltner’s personal files. They could plant bugs, copy computer files, anything. Except it also placed Wren right in the mouth of the lion.
“I’d love to come,” Wren said quickly, and Roarke felt some sort of door shut tight in his heart. “Thanks for asking me. I’m honored.”
Darren then asked Wren some questions about her parents—well, Lacy’s parents—who were dead. The rest of the van seemed to relax a bit as Wren filled in Darren on Lacy’s made-up backstory. Roarke, however, fiddled with the cord to his headset, wondering why Darren was asking Lacy so many questions about herself. He didn’t think the man actually cared about her. He was only interested in her devotion and admiration of him. So Darren must be testing her to be sure she was who she said was. Why else?
Roarke was going to go crazy second-guessing everything Darren did. He wasn’t a complicated man, from what Roarke could determine. He didn’t get the impression Darren respected women, but rather that he liked having power over them. Lacy was a perfect fit for him—a gorgeous, unemployed newcomer with no family.
The conversation was dull as they ate. The weather, some brief political topics, in which Wren stayed neutral. There was an undercurrent to the conversation that rankled Roarke, made him wonder why Darren had taken such a liking to Wren. Yes, she was gorgeous, but there surely were other women Darren could find to hang on his arm.
Why Wren?
Darren also talked a lot about Alpha and his many partners, as well as the numerous investors in Saltner Defense, some who were silent investors, but Darren was on a roll, name-dropping politicians and other DC bigwigs. Wren kept him talking while Jock typed furiously on his laptop behind them. Some of these silent investors were rumored to have many illegal ties, so this gave them more ammo to bring down Saltner. Roarke planned to ruin his life, so the investors who didn’t want to be associated with homicide? Well, they’d be hearing about this.
“Excuse me for a moment.” Wren’s body came into the frame as she placed her napkin on the table and ran her hand down Darren’s arm. “I’m going to use the restroom.”
She walked away from the table and out of the frame. Roarke darted his eyes over to another monitor and cracked his knuckles as he waited for her to make her way down the hallway. In his ear, her heels clicked loudly, and there she was, her hips swaying as she clutched her purse in front of her. There were no cameras in the bathroom so she was out of sight once she opened the door. Roarke leaned back in his chair and took off his headphones to give her some privacy.
He looked over to see Erick had done the same thing and turned around to face the rest of the crew. Dade’s seat was empty, and Roarke frowned. “Where’d he go?”
Jock didn’t even acknowledge the question, and Marisol looked up from her phone. “Uh, he said he was going to the bathroom, but…” She frowned as she checked the time. “Fuck, that was almost ten minutes ago.”
Roarke hadn’t even noticed Dade had left, he’d been so focused on Wren. He glanced at Dade’s seat and at the monitor. Dade was a shady motherfucker, but he’d made it clear he cared for Wren. She was his protégé after all. No, he couldn’t have…
With a deep breath, Roarke picked up his headphones and put them on.
* * *
Wren opened the bathroom stall and stood in front of the mirror. The necklace that Darren had given her was gorgeous—runway-worthy—but the longer it sat on her neck, the more it choked her. By the end of the night, she wasn’t sure she would be able to breathe anymore. This hunk of metal and gems probably cost close to fifty grand, and she couldn’t wait to donate its worth to charity.
A toilet flushed in another stall, and she busied herself at the sink washing her hands. She was stalling, soaping up twice, because she really didn’t want to go back to that table. Darren hadn’t been inappropriate yet, but she didn’t know how far he’d push after they left the restaurant. She was surprised he’d been open about his other business opportunities, implying they weren’t all legal. His desire to impress her was overriding his good sense. She wondered how he had kept it quiet all this time, but then maybe that was a good thing—he’d screwed up before, he’d do it again, and she planned to bring his entire business of exploiting women crashing down around his head.
While she dried her hands with an unnecessary amount of paper towels, the stall opened and out walked a tall brunette wearing slacks and a long-sle
eved red blouse with a bow at the collar.
Wren was about to leave when the other woman blocked her exit. Wren tensed, unsure what fresh hell awaited her, but she’d go to battle in a bathroom in heels. She didn’t have her Sig Sauer. She’d left it at home on Erick’s orders, but she could do some damage with a stiletto. She took a step back to give herself some distance from the woman who was now staring her down. Wren braced as the woman lifted her hand to her face and, in a swift move, removed her wig. Wren blinked, her memory sorting through faces before it landed on one. Of course. The tension left her body in a rush, and she relaxed. “Dade,” she breathed out with a hand on her heart. “Jesus, do you have to be so goddamned dramatic?”
He placed the wig back on and adjusted it in the mirror before swiping at a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth. “Ugh, I don’t like this lipstick. Looked better as a swatch. Anyway, why yes, Wren, you know I have to be dramatic. Because that’s how I amuse myself in this shitty world.” He leaned against the sink. “So, I decided to get dressed up and pop in to say hi.”
Everything about Dade was over the top. But she kinda loved him for it. “Well, hi. I appreciate it, because I feel mighty alone, that’s for sure.”
He nodded. “Suspect you might, but you should know we’ve been with you this whole time.”
She held up her purse. “Can you hear through this?”
“Nope.” He reached out and tugged gently on one of her earrings. “But we can hear through here.” He leaned in and spoke slowly. “Hello, Roarke, you big, fucking tool bag.”
Wren’s heart thudded, and she spun on a heel toward the mirror, leaning over the sink as far as she could to get a look at her earrings. “What the hell? Is there a camera in these?”
“Just a mic.”
She glared at the offending earrings anyway. “Thanks a lot for telling me, Roarke. I’ve been freaking out here, but this whole time you knew I was okay?” She growled low in her throat. “I’m going to kill you when I see you again.”
Dade clapped like this was a game. “Wonderful, this mission just got so much more interesting. I like it better when you two hate each other than when…” He winked. “You know.”
“No, I don’t know,” she said through gritted teeth. “Did you come here to mock me or…?”
He pulled a phone out of his silver bag. “I came here to say that we can hear you, so don’t go home and touch yourself while saying Roarke’s name—”
“I swear to God, Dade—”
He pressed a couple of buttons on his phone. “Okay, the feed for your earrings is down for sixty seconds so the team doesn’t hear. I’ll make this quick. I also came here to tell you that you should probably make an excuse to catch a cab home.”
She blinked at him. “I’m sorry, what?” This whole meeting was giving her whiplash.
“Make some excuse. Probably don’t use your cat again, but anything else you can think of would be great. I’m not quite sure of his plans for you after this dinner, but from what I’ve gathered during my spying, they most certainly will require you to blow your cover for this mission to achieve that personal one of yours.” He cocked his head, studying her reaction. In seconds, she was twenty again, her numb body stretched out on a dirty mattress in a dark basement. She’d been shivering uncontrollably as the drug worked its way through her system.
Fighting her way out of the flashback, she gripped the edge of the sink as a tremor rattled down her spine. Dade knew what had happened to her. He’d required full honesty before working with her. His voice was a little bit kinder when he spoke again. “And for reasons we can explain soon, we need you at the Arden estate, where you will be in a week if you don’t mess this up tonight. You understand?”
Right, he was asking her to prioritize. And he knew what her answer would be. “Of course. I understand.”
Heels sounded outside the door, and Dade cocked his head as a beeping sounded from his phone. “That’s my cue. Feed is back on. If you need us, just say the word. Take care, princess.”
He turned and walked out the door, holding it open for a woman who was entering.
Meanwhile Wren stood frozen in place. She fingered her earrings, glad the crew was with her even though she was going to kick Roarke in the balls over this. She pushed aside her feelings over what he’d done because that had to be dealt with later. She had more pressing matters, like getting out of here without being drugged and raped. She’d hoped to get access to Darren’s phone, but not at the expense of blowing her cover for the team. As of now, Flynn’s mission came first, and she’d deal with her own personal vendetta later. That was what she promised herself.
And right now, she needed to get safe. She’d scored an invite to the Saltner estate, so this night needed to end before she messed up her cover. Think, Wren, think. She needed an excuse to catch a cab. Something that wouldn’t allow Darren to say no or offer to take her himself.
A medical emergency. A family member? A friend? This performance was going to have to be pitch perfect or she’d find herself in a Lincoln Town Car on a one-way trip to Saltner’s House of Black Market Porn.
No thank you.
Turning back to the sink, she dripped water down her cheeks and smeared mascara under her eyes. She held her breath until her face was red and smacked herself a couple of times for good measure. She tangled her fingers through her hair, messing it a bit.
She leaned back and eyed herself in the mirror. Yep, she looked frazzled and upset. Good. When she was really young, she had wanted to be an actress, and she was a huge fan of K-dramas, so this was her turn to put her fandom of the Korean shows to use and act like her life depended on it. It kinda did.
Wren walked out of the bathroom, jogging in her heels. She wanted to make enough of a scene that Darren wouldn’t be able to argue with her. She burst into the dining room and managed to conjure a sob. Darren spun in his chair and stood up immediately. “Lacy? Are you okay?”
She glanced around, like she was searching for the exit. “I’m so sorry to do this, but I have to run.”
“Wha—”
“I just heard from my friend who’s in the hospital after a car accident. I have to go see her.”
“I can take you—”
She shook her head, already walking away from him. “A cab will be quicker. I told you I have no family, and she’s all I have here.”
Darren’s hand closed around her arm, pinching her skin. She looked around, but no one was paying attention. Did everyone turn the other way in this town? “Angel, sit down a minute. Drink your wine. I can call the hospital, and we’ll see what’s going on.” He smiled at her and held the drink out to her.
A drink that was probably spiked.
Fuck, this wasn’t working. And she didn’t know how to insist without blowing everything. She couldn’t do that, not with an invitation to Arden’s house on the line. She took the glass from him and placed it on the table. He watched her movements, and a muscle in his jaw ticked before he smoothed over his features. She stepped closer to him, and his hand slipped down her bare back to rest at the top of her ass. His fingers teased under the fabric. “The doctors are doing everything they can, I’m sure. And you visiting her while you’re this upset won’t help her.”
He was manipulating the fuck out of her, which might have worked if her emotions over this were real.
“Why don’t we take a drive? You can relax a bit, then I’ll drop you off at the hospital.” He smiled at her, all teeth and charm. “I’m trying to be sensitive here, but with you in that dress…” He whistled softly. “It’s been a bit of an uncomfortable night.” He shifted, and she sucked in a breath as the hard bulge in his pants brushed against her. This guy couldn’t give a shit about her or her friend; he just wanted her.
She bit her lip, trying to look coy. She ran her hands up his chest and rested them on his shoulders. “Would you agree to take a rain check? I want to spend more time with you, too, but I can’t concentrate knowing my friend is
all alone.” With bile rising in her throat, she leaned up and whispered in his ear while pressing against his erection. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
He groaned softly, and she took that opportunity to slip out of his grasp. He blinked at her, caught off guard, as she backed away. “I’ll catch a cab. Thanks for dinner.” She blew him a kiss and all but ran out of the restaurant. She felt like goddamned Cinderella, except nothing about this was a fairy tale.
She burst out on the sidewalk and immediately spotted a cab with the vacant sign lit. The driver leaned over the passenger side to yell out the window. “Need a ride, ma’am?”
“Yes!” She opened the door and all but dove inside, slamming the door behind her. Her blood pressure was through the roof and her body was beginning to shake. She glanced back at the doors to the restaurant, expecting to see Darren chasing her down, but there was no sign of him. She blurted out Lacy’s address to the driver, who nodded and pulled away from the curb.
Only then did she lean back in the seat and take a deep breath. “Jesus Fucking Christ, that was close.”
“What did Dade say to you in the bathroom?”
Roarke’s voice filled the cab, and for a split second, she thought the earring had a speaker, but then she opened her eyes to see Roarke unfolding himself from the floor beside her. “What the fuck?”
He grunted as he slumped down in the seat next to her. “What, you think this cab just happened to be here? I paid him a thousand bucks to sit out here waiting for you. And he’s going to your apartment, by the way, not Lacy’s.”
She glared at the driver. Traitor. He met her eyes in the rearview and shrugged.
“Well, thanks for the cab. Now you can see yourself out. Maybe while it’s moving at sixty miles an hour.” They’d gone from feeding each other clementines to wanting to kill each other, apparently.
Roarke narrowed his eyes. “We need to talk. What did Dade say to make you leave the date?”
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