by Chloe Lang
She nodded, glad to have a new friend.
Scott got out of the booth and to his feet. “I’m with Eric on this one. Let’s get you settled into our house first. Then we can move on to the next part of the day.”
“House? Your house?” Phoebe mocked. “Call it by its proper name. The Knight Mansion.”
“We’ve never dubbed it that,” Scott said.
“Maybe not, but everyone in Destiny has. Don’t forget, Megan.” Phoebe winked. “One eye always open with these two.”
“I won’t.”
“Enough. Let’s get going,” Eric stated flatly, but his eyes twinkled with what seemed to her as satisfaction. He liked to win, most definitely. But she’d won, too.
“Okay.” She stepped out of the booth and the Knights surrounded her. They towered over her, making her feel so very tiny and feminine. “All my stuff is in my car.”
The lawsuit was off the table. She wouldn’t have to sleep in her car for the next seven days. Her stomach was full. Things were looking up, even though her future as their personal assistant seemed unclear. What would she be doing for them, really? Taking notes? Making appointments? Screening their calls? All of the above and more?
“Lead the way, sweetheart.” Eric’s deep, commanding tone made her deliciously dizzy.
The only way to find out was to take the first step.
When he put his arm around her, she thought her knees would buckle.
They didn’t, thank God.
Three months wasn’t so long. Whatever happened, she would survive. She always had. She would again. At the end of her contract to them she would have twenty-seven thousand dollars. Nine thousand would go to the back taxes, saving her house from being seized and auctioned off by the county. She would use another five thousand of the remainder to make much-needed repairs for the home. And she would splurge on one thing. She’d throw out the futon, which had been her only place of rest since Kip’s arrest. Then she’d get herself a real bed, queen-size.
They walked out the door of Lucy’s. “What about the computer you were supposed to bring, Megan?” Eric asked. “Where is it?”
“With everything else I own, Mr. Knight. In my car.” Her words came out sharper than she’d meant them to. Her nerves were shot and apparently her tongue was taking advantage of that.
Suddenly, Eric stopped. “Careful, Megan. I expect a certain level of courtesy and respect from my assistant. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. Just tired.”
What had she really gotten herself into agreeing to the Knight brothers’ contract?
Chapter Five
The Knights’ address was Number Three, O’Leary Circle, Destiny, Colorado.
Awestruck, Megan walked between Eric and Scott along the gorgeous walkway up to their home.
Phoebe had been right. This wasn’t a house—this was a mansion. It was massive enough to house ten families, not just two brothers. And it was just one of three unique-looking estates on this most exclusive street in Destiny. In fact, O’Leary Circle didn’t have any other homes on it.
Eight marble two-story columns created a most impressive front to the structure. “What style is this?”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Now you’ve gone and done it, sweetheart.”
“What?”
“Scott fancies himself an expert in architectural history.” Eric offered her his arm as they walked up the steps to the massive wooden doors.
“Don’t listen to my Luddite brother. Architecture has a far greater impact on society in the long term than sculptures, paintings, even music. Master architects give us the places to work, play, and raise our children. Our lives are spent in their designs. What they do matters.”
“I see what you mean,” she said to Eric. “He’s passionate. Scott, my mother’s house is perfect for me but I’m sure no master architect designed it.”
“What kind of house is it?” Scott asked.
“Simple. Ranch style. One floor. Built in 1962. Nothing like yours.”
“Most likely your mom’s home has influences of several masters in its design. For instance, Joe Eichler made the ranch home widely available when he developed huge housing tracts for returning vets of World War II who could buy a home using the GI Bill.”
Megan nodded, recalling the day she and her mother had been visited by the very first owner’s widow. The woman had knocked on the door, asking if she could tour the house one last time. Her mom had welcomed her in with open arms. Megan had listened to the elderly lady share stories about her husband for over an hour. After the woman had left, her mom had taken the time to remind Megan, age seven then, to treat seniors with respect. Always. So many life lessons her mother had given her. God, she missed her every day.
“Enough, bro.” Eric opened the double ancient wooden doors. “Let’s get our new assistant settled in before you start another lecture about Frank Lloyd Wright, Louis Kahn, or Andrea Palladio.”
“My God, you actually do listen.”
“Until my ears bleed, bro.”
Megan laughed. The brotherly ribbing was sweet. “What kind of style is your place?”
“It’s a modern interpretation of a sixteenth-century Italian Renaissance style,” Scott answered as they stepped into the foyer of the mansion.
Her jaw dropped. Their entry was as big as her mother’s entire home. Twenty feet above her head was a dome that acted as the ceiling to this space. In the center of it was a round skylight that let the sun in. On the walls were paintings that must’ve cost more than ten homes like her mom’s.
“Follow me,” Eric instructed, and of course, she did.
As they headed up the stairs, she moved her eyes over the incredible home. She’d known that Eric and Scott were rich, but this place was way beyond a run-of-the-mill millionaire’s home. Of course, they were billionaires, so it made sense. Down a hallway, she looked to her right and saw an oak-paneled library with a beautifully carved plaster ceiling, stained-glass windows, and a large stone fireplace. Elegant yet masculine. It suited them.
They turned a corner and another door was open. The room beyond was painted black, and in the center of it was a contraption she couldn’t identify, not quite a table but not quite a bench either. When she saw the items on the table next to the strange thing, her breath caught in her chest. Sex toys? Three of them were shaped like giant penises.
The only things that had helped her through the last five years had been her romance novels. She and her mother had read sweet ones together during her chemo sessions. Megan discovered much hotter ones after Kip’s arrest that spoke to her on both a romantic and erotic level. She devoured book after book, enjoying a wide variety of erotic romance stories—ménage à trios, sex toys, and yes, even BDSM. But reading and doing were two entirely different things.
“You’re curious, aren’t you?” Eric said with a wicked grin.
She shook her head and looked down at her feet, hoping he couldn’t read her mind. Were Eric and Scott like some of the men in the books she loved? Her heart pounded hard in her chest, and she felt tingly all over.
Eric cupped her chin, gently pressing her to look up. She did. “I told you not to worry, Megan. Remember?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing. You never have to go into this room or even think about it.” He reached over and shut the door to the naughty space. “Whatever you need, Megan, that’s what you’ll get from us. Understand?”
“I guess so.” Kip had worked for Eric and Scott. Why would he choose to steal from them? So far, they’d been generous and kind to her. Was there another side to the Knight brothers she had yet to see? Recalling her wedding night, she bet there was only one person responsible for the crimes. Kip only cared about Kip. The bastard was a total user. Nothing more. Once the three months were over, she would have the money to hire the right attorney—maybe Phoebe—to finally get her marriage annulled even without Kip’s signature. Be Your Own Lawyer was a book she’d gotten from the lib
rary that mentioned grounds she could use. Abandonment. The FBI could keep Kip under ice for as long as they wanted.
Scott looked at her with the sweetest stare she’d ever seen in her life. It worked to tamp down her worry. “Bro, cool it with the Big Bad Dom act, okay? She’s our guest.”
Eric released her chin. “Good enough for now. Later? A guess won’t suffice, but you’re exhausted and need rest.”
At the end of the hall, they came to a door where the man who had sat behind the brothers in the courtroom was changing its knob. Even though indoors and on the floor here, the guy had on shades and was wearing a suit and tie.
“Is the light too bright in here for you?” she asked him.
Eric laughed. “God, I love your sass. His Aviators are just a part of his signature look, Megan.”
“All done, buddy.” The man stood and placed his tools in the box next to him. Then he handed a set of keys to Eric.
Eric took them and nodded. “Great. Megan, let me introduce you to Dylan Strange. He’s a friend. He’s also put a lock on your door as well as a deadbolt.” Eric handed her the keys. “These are for you.”
Scott turned to her. “We meant it when we said we want you to feel comfortable in our home.”
“Thank you.” She took the keys and curled them up in her hand. Eric and Scott deserved their gallant surname. She turned to Dylan. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Strange.”
The man’s eyes narrowed at first. Then he extended his hand to her. “And you, Mrs. Lunceford.”
She shook his hand.
“Enough with the introductions,” Eric stated. “Megan needs rest.”
Dylan nodded. “I’ve got an early flight in the morning, so I’ll be saying my good-byes now.”
Eric waited until Dylan was gone. “The bathroom in this suite already has a lock. No one will disturb you. Scott and I will have Gretchen unpack your things.”
A sudden flash of foolish jealousy shot through her. “Gretchen?”
“A person we cannot live without. Gretchen Hollingsworth keeps this house running.”
“Yes, I do, sir,” a silver-headed woman said in a distinctive British accent. Megan guessed her to be in her mid-sixties. “And with little or no help from you two lads.”
“How many times do we have to ask you not to wear that outfit?” Scott hugged the lady.
The formal maid uniform was light gray with a crisp white apron. Gretchen smiled, making her green eyes sparkle like emeralds. “I believe that employed domestics, whether maids or manservants, should wear uniforms, Mr. Scott. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”
“This isn’t Downton Abbey, Gretchen, and you’re much more than a maid to us.”
“Employment as a domestic is, I believe, an honorable profession. I’m proud of my uniform.” The lady sent her a quick wink. “And how would you know, Scott, if this is or isn’t Downton Abbey? Whenever I turn my television show on in the den, you head for the exit every time.”
“Enjoy your soap opera all you want,” Scott said. “How would you say it?” He continued in a terrible attempt at an English accent, “Not my cup of tea.”
Gretchen shook her head. “Every male needs to leave this space right now.”
Scott saluted and Eric leaned down and kissed the sweet woman’s cheek.
“Go, before I get a broom to your behinds.” They marched off, and Gretchen turned to her. “Welcome to Knight Mansion, Mrs. Lunceford.”
“Please call me Megan.”
“You Americans and your informality.” Smiling broadly, Gretchen led her into the most luxurious bedroom she’d ever seen. “I’ll draw you a warm bath and then I’ll put away your things, dear.”
“Thank you, Gretchen.” A castle, two handsome Knights, and Gretchen. What woman wouldn’t feel like a princess?
* * * *
Scott’s pulse pounded hard in his veins as he and Eric walked down the hallway away from Megan’s room—away from Megan, who was with Gretchen. “Want a drink?”
Eric shook his head. “I need my thoughts clear.”
“Agreed.”
There was no doubt about Megan’s innocence anymore for either of them. Eric was clearly on board, too. The little time with her had been proof enough. She was kind, honest, and the most beautiful creature in the world.
When they got to the door of the library, Eric stopped. “This is a fucked-up mess.”
“We have a lot to figure out, bro.” Scott closed his eyes, hoping to find the way through this horrible maze. “We’ve got to help her.”
“Dylan’s evidence means one thing—someone was using Megan’s IP from her mother’s home to get into TBK’s network.” Eric’s tone might be steady, but he knew his brother better than anyone. A storm was clearly brewing under the surface of all that calm.
Scott opened his eyes. “You think it’s someone from the inside?”
“Maybe, but the viruses have Kip’s fingerprints all over them. I found ten lines in the fucking hack’s code that were identical to what we found when he sold the targeting software to the Chinese back then. Fuck. This is bad for her.”
He agreed. Déjà vu was crashing in on them. Ten months ago, they’d cracked a flaw in the government’s drone guidance systems and had won an enormous contract to fix it. “What are we missing? It’s got to be right in front of us.”
“Five million lines of code in and the first backdoor attack came. After that, three more a few months apart from each other.” Eric was in that space of his where he was working out all the variables and outcomes.
“I’ve run it over and over in my head. This hacker is only testing us. The contamination isn’t their endgame.” The last attack had been three months ago. The best and brightest from the CIA, FBI, and even TBK had put in the best security systems on the network. He and Eric believed, despite all the good feelings the team had, another was coming. If unprepared and not ready for the hacker’s next attack, the entire project would be scrubbed and the code would be destroyed. They’d end up losing the government contract. How long would they continue to pay for their mistake in trusting Kip?
Eric sighed. “Let’s head to the basement. Target practice will clear our heads.”
“Great idea, bro.”
Their basement had four distinct spaces. One was a theatre room with the latest and greatest screening equipment. Another was a wine room for their collection. To the left of that one was the game room—pool table, wet bar, pinball games, and card tables. The space they were headed to was the gun range, their favorite place to think and chill. The soundproofing had cost a small fortune but was well worth the expense.
After unloading several clips into the targets, Scott removed his ear protection and motioned for his brother to do the same.
“You’ve got something?” Eric asked.
“Maybe the techs will pull something from her computer that will be useful to us. But I’m thinking her modem might still have some digital breadcrumbs on it.”
“Hell yeah it could.” Eric slapped him on the back. “That’s using the old noggin.”
“We could have someone from the Dallas office retrieve it for us. Vicky even. She’s the lead down there.”
Eric shook his head. “No way. Have you forgotten she had the biggest crush on Kip back then?”
“Yeah, but I can’t believe she’s a mole. Remember how shocked and disgusted she seemed after learning of Kip’s betrayal of TBK?” Vicky had been with them since the beginning. If they couldn’t trust her, whom could they trust? But Scott wasn’t ready to test that yet. “What about Felix? He’s there, too. He could help.”
“I know we’ve checked and rechecked everyone’s background, but it’s not enough.” Eric was obviously not ready to trust anyone but him completely.
Scott felt the same way. Kip’s betrayal had changed them both. “We’ve also verified the contamination came from outside the system.”
“We have, but until we catch the motherfucking hacker, it must be one o
f us. Megan deserves that much.” Eric paused. “I think that I’m the obvious choice.”
Scott nodded. “There’s no one I trust more, bro.”
Eric sprinted up the stairs. “Since we were going to use the plane for the New York meeting, Josh probably can have it ready to take off within the hour for an unscheduled Dallas trip.” Josh was a friend and TBK’s lead pilot.
Scott raced behind Eric. “I’ll call the O’Learys and see if we can use their plane tomorrow.”
“Exactly. I’m sure they won’t mind. Let’s not tell Megan where I’m going, okay? We don’t want her to worry.”
“Agreed.”
They came to the top of the stairs and found Gretchen. Beside her was one of Eric’s pieces of luggage. “I took the liberty of packing for you.”
“How did you know?” Scott asked. Gretchen seemed to always be several steps ahead of them, whatever the challenge.
“Considering Megan’s situation and how you two already feel about her, I knew one of you would stay with her to be her bodyguard and one would charge off into the night to get the jump on whatever danger is stalking her. I had a fifty-fifty chance of picking correctly on the division of tasks. Pretty good odds.”
Scott grabbed her hands and squeezed. “Better than fifty-fifty, right?”
She tilted her head to the side and winked. “I’ll never tell.”
“Thank you.” Eric kissed her on the cheek.
“You’re very welcome. Now, go.” She turned to Scott. “I’ll get your bags ready for the meeting in New York. You’re still going, correct?”
He nodded, wondering how they’d ever survived without the amazing woman.
“Eric, go,” Gretchen said firmly. “I’ll take care that Scott and Megan get off tomorrow with a hot breakfast and both their bags packed for the meeting in New York.”
“We need to leave here no later than four,” Scott said. “You don’t have to get up that early.”
Gretchen smiled. “Don’t worry about me. It will be nice to have the house to myself for a change. I’ll cover things here. You both have work to do to help your lady.”