Redeeming

by Calle J. Brookes

  Sometimes Luc missed him more than others. Now was one of them. It sure as hell would be nice to have had Manny’s advice when it came to Payton. Manny would have loved her, would have seen the heart that guided Payton in everything.

  And he would have loved her.

  Suddenly Luc wanted to speed up, to get what he needed finished so he could spend the rest of the evening with the woman who drove him absolutely crazy. He looked at the hulking giant walking next to him. “Thanks for wrapping this up for me.”

  “I wish you’d stay close tonight in case I have any questions.”

  Did the man always grumble? No wonder he and Paige didn’t seem to get along very well.

  “We can Skype. First thing in the morning. I have big plans for tonight.” Plans that had his insides twisting. He’d never figured himself for the Prince Charming role, but he already had Whilton hard at work booking the best suite, the best chef, the best view of the city for him. He wanted tonight to be perfect.

  It wasn’t every night that a man asked a woman to marry him. And he didn’t want to make any major mess-ups until he had her yes.

  “I’m not sure I want to know. When will you be back?”

  “Payton has to work Tuesday. So…we should be home by five tomorrow.”

  “Have a safe trip.” Brockman looked at him. “She’s a nice woman. Spends some time with my parents, I believe. She deserves to be treated well.”

  “And that’s exactly what I plan to do. If she says yes.”

  “You have your doubts? It’s obvious she’s got it bad for you.”

  “And I for her.”

  Brockman grunted. “Hard to miss that.”

  Luc just grinned as he opened the glass doors to his building. “No doubt.”

  He led the way to his office on the fifth floor of the building. Whilton’s office was before his, and his stalwart assistant was hard at work gathering the information he’d requested.

  She glared at him when he entered. “About time you showed up.”

  “Whilton, Brockman. Brockman, Jane Whilton, personal assistant.”

  Whilton pushed her glasses up on her nose and continued to glare. She did shake Brockman’s hand, and nod at Chase, who’d entered the office directly behind Luc. “Do you know what I’ve had to do to get this together? Not to mention your other project?”

  Whilton just glared. Luc smiled in return. He loved seeing his assistant flustered. She was like a little red-haired fairy—with a temper. He’d felt the sting of it on multiple occasions. One of the reasons she’d lasted in her position as long as she had.

  She wasn’t afraid of him, at all.

  “It’s all right there. Center of your desk. I have a few things to finish up here, and then I’m booking. I was right in the middle of something when you called.”

  “Good. If you and Chase will remain out here. This won’t take but a few minutes.”

  The files were right where Luc expected them to be, along with a pile of memory cards.

  Whilton’s obsession was duplicates. The woman had backups of her backups’ backups. He had no doubt everything he’d asked for was on one of those memory cards.

  He sank into his chair and reached for the drawer. He had his own memory cards in the drawer, backups of the trafficking documents, backups of his business ventures, everything was kept in an envelope in the center desk.

  He wanted to go over his copies one more time and wanted to keep his own copies. Just in case.

  Luc wasn’t a fool, one of Manny’s axioms had been to keep your enemies close, and your friends closer. Luc lived by that rule too. It had saved his ass a time or two.

  Not to say that he didn’t fully trust Brockman, but…

  Luc didn’t trust anyone fully—with the exception of Payton.

  He didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

  Brockman cursed. “Don’t move a muscle!”

  Luc looked at the man and then into the half-opened drawer.

  It was then that he saw it.

  Wires and something else. Something that had just started counting down.

  “Oh shit.” It was all he could think to say.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Mick grabbed the handle to the fire alarm and the tones sounded throughout the building. He looked at Lucas, who still had his hand on the drawer. “Don’t move. There is a chance you could precipitate things if you move too much.”

  “I’m fighting the urge to dive out the window.” The guy had his sister’s calm under pressure, that was for damned sure. There was humor in Lucas’s tone that at any other time, Mick would have appreciated.

  The door slammed open and the assistant and the bodyguard rushed in. Mick physically blocked them with his body.

  It was more expedient to grab the assistant and lift her bodily out of the way. He tossed her toward the bodyguard. “Get her out. Bomb. Clear the building. Five minute timer. Go. Now.”

  The bodyguard looked toward his employer, his expression cool and unfazed. Mick wondered at the man’s balls of steel. Mick himself felt like pissing his pants. “Boss?”

  “Go. Get to Payton and Paige. Under no circumstances are they to be left unprotected. And Chase? If this all goes south for me in a few, see to it they are taken care of and protected forever. Cody and Whilton here, too.”

  “Understood.” The bodyguard held the assistant with one strong arm, while she shivered and quaked. “You have my word.”

  “Go! Now,” Mick ordered. They didn’t have time for sentiment. Not if they all wanted to get out a-damned-live. “Keep the first responders out of the building until the bomb squad gets here.”

  He didn’t mention that the chances of them getting there before detonation were extremely slim.

  The bodyguard was gone in less than a second after that. Mick looked at Lucas.

  Lucas returned the look. “So how do we do this?” His hand hadn’t left the drawer. Mick did admire the man’s control.

  “One millimeter at a time.” Mick grabbed the man’s desk chair and rolled it toward the drawer. It was just tall enough that the arm could balance the drawer enough to keep the deadly contents from jarring.

  “If you want to cut and run, now’s probably the time to do it,” Lucas said. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

  “I don’t leave a man behind. For anything.” He’d learned that in the military.

  This wasn’t even the first improvised explosive device Mick had run afoul of, either.

  “Take your hand away slowly. As slowly as possible. Then we’re going to slip out of here and run for the hills. Not stopping to pass go.”

  Lucas nodded. Then reached out with his free hand and grabbed the half dozen zip drives that littered the desktop. He shoved them in his pocket. “Backups, you understand. Shouldn’t leave without them.”

  “Ok. Let’s do this, then.”

  They ran.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Luc had never been as terrified in his life as he ran toward the emergency stairwell. Had Chase ensured the building was evacuated? It was a Sunday. They normally had an empty building on Sundays, except for security. Today was the exception, with him calling Whilton in.

  Thank God she hadn’t been alone in his office, thank God she hadn’t opened that drawer by herself.

  Brockman was running beside him.

  They burst into the lobby just as the sound of sirens grew louder. Had Chase explained what was happening? Was it the bomb squad? Would they be able to disarm the explosive before it destroyed all he and Manny had worked toward?

  He didn’t understand how he could even have coherent thoughts at that moment; but fear wasn’t blurring the world around him, it was sharpening it.

  At least Paige and Payton were safe. He was even more thankful that he’d had them stay behind. If anything had happened to them—

  The world exploded.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Payton was leading the way, determined to wait no longer to tell h
im how she felt. She didn’t care that she had an audience—she’d had an audience for most of her relationship with Luc since the very beginning. Why should this be any different?

  Paige was walking at her side, whistling. More infernal whistling, just like her brother. Payton smiled when she thought of how he used that sound to push her buttons. To get her to do what he wanted.

  Terrance followed behind her, discreet and protective. But she sensed he approved, as well. She knew he’d heard her and Paige’s discussion.

  His cell buzzed and he answered. Payton was only half aware of what he said.

  Until he grabbed her arm and pulled her against the wall of the nearest building. “Bomb. At Lucas Tech.”

  “What? Are Luc and Mick ok?”

  “I don’t know.” He had his hand on his holster and his fingers were tight on Payton’s arm. She wanted to run toward Luc’s office, to see for herself whether he was safe and whole and still waiting for her.

  “Come on. We need to find Luc.”

  Paige had paled, but her hand was firmly on Payton’s other arm. Did they realize how she felt? How she needed to see him? “Payton, the area will be cordoned off. You won’t be allowed in.”

  Sirens punctuated her words.

  “I need to get to him. To see him. I won’t get in the way. But I am going.” They’d have to cuff her to a brick wall to keep her from finding him just then. “I’m going to be there, waiting for him. Period.”

  Terrance had to yell over the sirens. “You stay with me! Neither one of you gets out of my sight!”

  “I can take care of myself!” Paige yelled back. She led the way, and by some design, Payton was kept between them. Paige had her badge out, in case they needed it. Payton was grateful. The badge could get them through the first responders to where Luc was.

  They were less than a block away when the building exploded. Paige turned and tackled Payton. Terrance covered both of them with his body, and Payton’s face scraped against the concrete of the sidewalk.

  People were screaming.

  Just like when her lab had exploded around her.

  Chapter Fifty

  His first thought was for Payton. He called for her, until he remembered…

  She hadn’t been with him. But someone had. Who? It wasn’t Chase or Terrance; because he’d sent them with Payton…and Whilton? Right?

  His head was ringing and he couldn’t hear anything around him. Couldn’t see, either.

  Blood trickled from his forehead and he wiped at it with a hand that shook. What in the fuck had happened?

  The last thing he remembered was the bomb. Seeing it in the desk, resting so innocuously. One wrong jostle and he could have killed everyone in the building.

  But he hadn’t, had he? He’d ordered Chase to get Whilton out. And he knew that the two of them would have ensured everyone else was kept at a safe distance. And he and…Brockman.

  It had been Brockman, Alessandra’s brother, with him, hadn’t it? But where in the fuck was the big bastard now?

  Luc rolled to his feet, shoving the drywall covering his lower body off of him. He didn’t think he had anything broken, but he was for damned sure banged up some. But he could walk and he could breathe.

  Could the same be said for Brockman? He yelled the man’s name, then waited for a response. They’d just entered the lobby from the stairwell when everything had gone to shit.

  It took him a moment, but he figured out that he was near the west wall of the lobby. Part of the receptionist desk had splintered into a thousand pieces at least. The chair Naomi normally occupied had impaled the drywall three feet from the stairwell door. At least thirty feet from where the chair usually remained.

  Debris covered every section of the lobby. The windows were gone. Wires hung from the panel ceiling. Half the tiles remained intact above his head. But every wall was damaged or in pieces on the floor.

  Desks, chairs, filing cabinets, paper, dust. All combined to nearly blind him.

  Or was it the blood running down his forehead? Luc trailed the back of his jacket over his eyes again. The material came away crimson. “Brockman! Where the hell are you?”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  He was pinned. And Mick was getting damned tired of waking up on his back, covered in blood. He tried to turn over on his stomach, but he couldn’t move the lower half of his body. He remembered what happened.

  The last thing he’d seen was the back of Lucas’s head as they barreled through the east stairwell door.

  The blast had thrown Mick through the glass that separated the security guy’s office from the main lobby. And something was lodged on his chest and legs; something damned heavy.

  And he could hear someone calling his name and cursing. It took all the strength he had to force enough air out to yell in response. “Here! Lucas!”

  He didn’t think he’d be able to yell again; not with the pressure against his lungs.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Rodney had told her what he had done; the bomb, the drawer, how he’d set the mechanism to start when someone opened the desk. She hadn’t had time to ask how he’d gotten into Lucas’s building, but he had. Somehow.

  Her visit with her son in lock-up was a favor granted to the attorney she’d been friends with since Rodney was in diapers. She’d had five minutes of complete privacy with her son in the FBI’s conference room. Thank God there hadn’t been one of those damned one way windows to intrude on them in those few precious moments.

  Rodney had told her…told her exactly what he had done in the few hours before Lucas had led the damn FBI to her son. Told her what to expect.

  And then he’d told her to leave, to stay as far away from him as she could get. Because he’d wanted to protect her. While she’d been busy devising safeguards within her business, her wonderful son had been doing his very best to protect her and his younger brother.

  And in his mind, that meant removing the biggest threat to all of them.

  That damned son-of-a-whore, Davis Lucas. A piece of trash who’d gotten lucky, so damned lucky.

  She’d always despised the idea of luck. Your fortune was what you made of it, through guts and initiative and being smarter than your competitors. Like she had been. She had worked for what she had. No one had ever handed her anything like Davis Lucas had been handed.

  She couldn’t let her son take the fall for what she had done to support him. She was his mother, it was her job to protect her children. She’d known what Rodney was planning the instant she’d looked into his eyes.

  Stay away, Mother. I’ve protected you and Gregory. I’ve erased every sign that you’ve even been involved. And I spoke with Junior. He’s taking care of Lucas. You and Greg stay away. No matter what.

  He’d involved his stepbrother. To take care of Lucas. Why had he done that? He had to know that Junior was a loose canon. That half of their problems had originated with his stepbrother’s mistakes.

  And then it had occurred to her. Rodney would have known exactly what Junior would do, had done. And he’d use Junior in whatever way possible to protect those Rodney loved most. Her and Gregory.

  He’d set his stepbrother up to take the fall for everything, so that she and Gregory would be in the clear.

  Pride and anger warred within her. And sadness. She’d made a promise to her husband to protect Junior.

  And Rodney; her Rodney had known what was going down and he’d inserted himself right there.

  At the mercy of the world. Her baby. Her precious boy. He would be vilified, in the press and in the courts. Everything they had worked for would be gone.

  Unless, she took responsibility for everything. Made it very clear that she was the one involved in everything. Make it clear that Rodney—and Junior—were innocent in all of it.

  It would be her word against Rodney’s, and she was more convincing than her son. She’d had far more practice in this type of world than Rodney. He was a businessman at heart; he had an MBA from one of the best
universities in the nation, and he had no background of criminal behavior. Not like she did.

  And she’d kept meticulous records in her private safe. Records that he would never have been able to duplicate in the short amount of time he’d had.

  She could protect her sons, all three of them, somehow. And that she would.

  But they wouldn’t believe her if she just walked into the FBI building and spilled everything, would they? And by the time they did, her sons’ lives would be ruined. If in the media, if nothing else.

  No. It would require something drastic to clean up this mess. Something to focus all eyes on her.

  And it would have to be through Davis Lucas.

  ***

  She watched Lucas while he ate at the small café. He never looked in her direction, too caught up with the people around him. She recognized the woman as the one he’d kept at his side at the mayor’s dinner. As the one with him in the papers recently.

  As the one in the photos she’d hired a man to take for her a few days ago.

  In her experience men always wanted to protect their things, their toys and playmates, and Davis Lucas would be no different.

  From the way he was acting, he was in love with her. Deeply so. And the girl seemed receptive. Of course, why wouldn’t she? He was Davis Lucas, after all. Every woman’s fantasy.

  She took a few minutes to study the other people with them. She didn’t recognize either one of them, but both were armed, even though the weapons didn’t show. She’d had experience checking her former clients for weapons. A lifetime habit was hard to break. Bodyguards, most likely, sharing a small space because of the crowd. The other bodyguards, the ones who were with him most of the time, were nearby.

  She thought about the small pistol in her purse, the one that went with her everywhere. She could use it now, wipe him from their list of problems, and draw the media straight to her and away from her sons.