by Chloe Lang
Another shake of the plane, and he ended their kiss. “We better get in our seats, baby.” He knelt down and grabbed her panties. In a flash, he helped her on with them and the rest of her clothes.
He buckled her in, and then he put his shirt back on.
She’d been about to tell him the truth when the turbulence hit.
“You okay, Megan?” Scott asked so respectfully.
“Yes. Thank you.” She could tell him right now about her virginity. Right now. He opened his laptop up and began typing away, preparing for his meeting. “Scott?”
He looked up from the screen. “What is it?”
Right now?
She would tell him everything but not now. She just couldn’t. “Is there something I could be working on for you? I am your personal assistant, aren’t I?”
“Actually, I’m going to need your help on a charity event that Eric and I are sponsoring. It’s a citywide paintball game…”
As Scott clued her in on Destiny’s Annual Paintball Extravaganza, her insides tingled nice and warm.
She would wait for the perfect time to tell him. That just wasn’t right now.
Chapter Nine
Eric watched Josh pick the lock on Megan’s house.
Josh was the son of Takahiro, who preferred to be called “Hiro,” and Melissa Phong, the owners of the Chinese restaurant in Destiny. Eric and Scott had known Josh since elementary school. He favored his mother’s Italian heritage more than his father’s Japanese, though his eyes appeared more Asian.
This Dallas neighborhood was circa 1940s. Under a thousand square feet was apparently the norm here. Most of the homes were pretty dicey, and a few were even boarded up. Megan’s wasn’t the worst of the lot, but only by a little. Three of her windows didn’t have screens. The paint was peeling off.
His gut tightened at the thought of her living in this dilapidated area.
If Josh couldn’t pick the lock and get the door open, it wouldn’t stop Eric from going inside and getting her modem. The door was hollow-core, which wasn’t meant for exteriors let alone to act as a front door. Breaking it down would be easy and might help tamp down his frustration, like thirty minutes punching a bag at Destiny’s Boxing Gym did most of the time. Megan was in real danger, and he needed to know who was behind it all so that he could direct his anger to the guilty person.
“Almost got it.” Josh continued working on the lock.
Eric looked up and down the street. No sign of anyone, but he was certain they were being watched from behind some windows. Would any of them call the police? Maybe. He didn’t care. They wouldn’t be here long enough for that to matter. In and out. Get the modem and be gone.
Josh stood up and pushed the door open. “After you.”
“What other skills do you have that I should be worried about?”
Josh smiled. “More than I can count.”
Eric walked in and stopped in his tracks. This was her home. Hers. Megan’s. Kip had lived here with her for a few weeks. He clenched his jaw at the thought.
“You okay, buddy?” Josh said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m fine.” But he wasn’t. Just in the front door in a tiny entry area, he could see the place was neat, as he expected it would be. Megan was that kind of woman. But neatness didn’t change the fact that living here must’ve been hard for her these past five years.
The floors were pine and in really bad condition. Two poor patch jobs took up half the entry’s boards. To his right was a utility room with washer and dryer hookups but no washer or dryer. To his left was a very short hallway—smaller than the tiniest of closets in his home in Destiny. The passage led to three doors that were all hanging open, revealing a bathroom through one, an empty room that was likely meant to be a bedroom through another, and through the last door, he saw a futon.
Megan’s room, the place she slept.
His pulse pounded in his temples and his heart ached for her and the suffering she’d endured. If he and Scott hadn’t left Kip to run the Dallas office, she would’ve never met him, never been brought so low.
Instead of going down the hall to those rooms, Eric moved forward into the living room. It was narrow, only eleven feet wide but twenty feet long. It had to be the biggest room in the tiny house. The only furniture here was a card table with four metal chairs. Three boxes, one with books inside and the other two empty, sat in the corner. An ancient-looking television that looked more like a box than a set was on top of a plastic crate. Next to it was the modem he’d come to Dallas to retrieve.
“Was she robbed?” Josh asked, clearly confused by the lack of items here.
“Only by her fucking husband and his crimes.” This might’ve been a beautiful home at one time but it wasn’t now. It didn’t have even the simplest of bare necessities. “Let’s get what we came for and get out of here.”
She was never coming back here. He would see to that. He would make sure whoever had piggybacked on her IP to hack TBK’s systems would be found and brought down. He would make sure she was safe, and he could see himself doing that for the rest of his life.
“Should we see if there are some personal items Megan wants us to bring back?” Josh asked.
“That’s why I brought you here with me,” Eric said. “You know me. I’m a nuts-and-bolts guy. Sentiment is often lost on me.”
“That, and you trust me to keep my mouth shut.”
Eric nodded. “True. Don’t disappoint me.”
Josh smiled. “I never have.”
He pulled out his cell but remembered she and Scott were still in the air. They wouldn’t be landing for another hour. “You know what? Instead of picking and choosing, let’s take everything back with us.” He grabbed one of the empty boxes.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll load up the stuff in here.” Josh lifted up the television. “You should be the one to check her closet and bathroom.”
He’d told Josh about the reason they were going to Megan’s house, but he hadn’t mentioned how he felt about her. But the guy was one of the few people who could read him. Scott was one of the most intuitive Doms at Phase Four, but Josh held the crown for being able to get into almost anyone’s head.
“Deal.” Eric walked into her bedroom first.
He leaned down and touched the black pad of the futon. Her scent, though faint, was still in the room. His dick hardened. The green-eyed beauty was in his every thought and the reason for his current actions. Never had he been so locked into one woman before, but he knew whatever he had to do to keep her safe, to keep her happy, to keep her with him, he would do. He’d quench hell’s fires and tear down heaven’s gates if he had to. Whatever it took, he would succeed at winning her heart.
He opened her closet door, and once again a pang of sadness for Megan washed over him. Two pairs of jeans hung on wire hangers—one so threadbare it should have been tossed long ago and the other close behind its sibling. Five cotton tops also hung in the closet. On the single shelf above were some bras and panties, neatly folded and stacked. If he had any say in things, and he meant to have more than a say, Megan wouldn’t need undergarments, especially when they were alone.
Eric started placing Megan’s clothes in the box he’d grabbed from the living room when his cell rang. He looked at the screen and saw Vicky Bates’s name and office number.
“Fuck.”
* * * *
Megan looked at the intimidating building.
She and Dylan were standing in front of Bergdorf Goodman. Men and women wearing the most modern and sophisticated clothes she’d ever seen walked by them into the department store.
She didn’t belong inside. Her outfit made her feel conspicuous, and not in the good way. “I can’t go in there. They won’t give me the time of day.”
“I have strict instructions, Mrs. Lunceford.” Scott had sent Dylan with her on this shopping event while he attended his meeting.
Dylan, with his dark suit and shades, looked more befitt
ing to protect the president than someone like her, but Scott had insisted. Never having been in New York before, she’d reluctantly agreed. Luckily only a few people gawked at them, and according to Dylan, they were likely tourists not locals.
“Surely there’s a Target or Walmart we can find while Scott’s in his meeting.”
Dylan’s manner was of a man on constant guard, surveying every nook and cranny, every passerby, every detail. Even so, there was an ease she sensed about him, under all the military training he’d most certainly been through. He’d likely seen action.
“The schedule is clear. First here. We ask for Nina. She’s got everything set up for you to try on. The Louis Vuitton store is next. Michelle is there.” He glanced at his cell and then at her. “Tiffany’s. Frank. Piaget. Kevin. Prada. Beth. Then we head up Fifth to the Hermès shop. Klaussen will be outfitting you with a particular handbag that Scott has chosen for you. Last, we backtrack to the Apple store. Our point man is Terry. There we will secure your MacBook Pro, iPad, and iPhone. That’s where we rendezvous with Scott.”
Dylan had a strange way of making a shopping spree sound like a covert operation. “That’s quite a list, but I guess men in black are used to lists. You’re the one who tracked down the hacker to my house, aren’t you?”
He nodded, motioning to the door of their first stop. “Shall we?”
“In a minute.” She had to know what he thought about her now. “Tell me, Dylan, do you believe I’m guilty.”
He lowered his arm. “Does it matter either way?”
“Maybe it shouldn’t but it does to me. Scott and Eric apparently trust you.” Her voice shook in her throat as her feelings for the Knights bubbled up to the forefront. “Please. It may be silly to someone like you, but it isn’t to me.”
He removed his glasses, which surprised her. His eyes narrowed and he didn’t say a word for several seconds, making her wish she could take back the question.
Finally, he said, “The only time we’ve seen each other was in the courtroom, at the mansion, and most recently in the limo ride from TBK’s office downtown to Fifth Avenue. That’s not a long time to determine such a thing for an investigator.”
She sighed. “I thought so.”
“But I’m not an average investigator, Megan. I’m the best. You’re innocent. I know it.”
Thrilled with his words, she hugged him. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, I have a job to do and you’re keeping me from it.”
“Right. Sorry.” She released him.
He put his aviators back on. “After you, Mrs. Lunceford.”
Chapter Ten
Eric stared at the two words below Vicky’s name and number. The green one was answer and the red one was decline. Thinking it better to take the call than to put her off, he placed the box on Megan’s futon and clicked the green word.
“Hey, Vicky.”
“It’s Vicky and Felix,” she said. “Got you on speaker.”
“Hey, Felix.”
Felix voiced, “I thought you guys were going to be in New York talking to Senator Brickman and General Furnish about the delay. What are you doing in Dallas?”
Fuck. “Scott’s the lead in New York. I’m here on another matter.” He kept his tone level. “How did you know I was in Dallas, anyway? I didn’t decide to come here until late last night.”
“Trying to pull an unannounced inspection on us, Eric?” Vicky laughed. “Some things never change.”
Felix chimed in. “I called the Destiny offices first thing this morning to try to catch you guys before you took off. So I called the airport in Walden. The man there said the flight plan filed had changed from New York to Dallas.”
“Eric.” Vicky’s serious tone made him clench his jaw. “We had another attack into the system.”
“When?”
“Last night, five minutes after midnight. That’s why you’re here, right?” she asked. “You’re getting closer to finding the hacker. Is the culprit in Texas?”
Now he and Scott had proof positive that Megan was innocent, like they expected her to be. “Still working on that, Vicky. Not any closer than we were before.” Eric didn’t want to tip his hand. He would’ve liked to trust Vicky, but he still wasn’t ready to trust anyone besides Scott. He would wait to fill her in only after everything came to light and Megan was safe.
“When can we expect you in the Dallas office, buddy?” Felix asked.
“You can’t. I’ll be heading back to Destiny today.”
“Why so cloak-and-dagger?” TBK’s number two in Dallas asked.
Vicky added, “Are you working on a new deal we should know about?”
After seeing Megan’s home, the only deal he wanted to work on was keeping her safe, getting to know her better, and ultimately winning her heart.
“Shoot me the details you’ve got on this last attack. When I get to the office tomorrow, I’ll call you so you can fill me in.”
“You’re the boss,” she said with a hint of irritation.
Vicky was ambitious, but was she too ambitious, like Kip had been?
* * * *
Megan walked into the mansion with her arms loaded with packages. It was after midnight, and even though she’d slept nearly the entire flight from New York back to Colorado, she was exhausted.
Scott was beside her with even more packages, and there were still more in his truck.
She shook her head. “I can’t keep all of this. It’s too much.”
“Not this again, sweetheart.”
“Scott, you told me that twenty thousand dollars was my TBK wardrobe allowance. We brought back at least double that amount. I’m going to return most of it.”
“Megan, please stop,” he said, dropping the bags to the floor.
She really didn’t know the total since Dylan had taken over paying the bills during the shopping spree. He’d also, per Scott’s instructions, kept the salesclerks from telling her how much things cost. But after spying a couple of forgotten tags when they boarded the plane, she knew the budget must’ve been busted. The Manolo suede boots were nearly fourteen hundred dollars alone.
“This bag”—she patted the camel-colored Hermès—“might be as much as five thousand all by itself.”
“More like thirty-five to forty,” Eric said, coming down the stairs with Gretchen.
“What?” Her jaw dropped. “How would you know that?”
He shrugged.
“When did you get back?” Scott asked.
“To Destiny? An hour ago. Went to the tower first before coming home. Got here about ten minutes ago.”
Gretchen came up to her side and took the shopping bags Megan was holding from her. “Don’t let Eric fool you, Megan. As you can tell by his current attire, he’s no fashion follower.”
“What’s wrong with jeans, boots, and T-shirts?” he asked.
“See what I mean? Those and a Stetson, and he’s ready to face the day. But I do know how he knows about the price of this magnificent bag.” Gretchen grinned. “When these two joined the billionaire club, the designers came out of the woodwork. We get invitations by the truckloads for them. Starlets, too, come sniffing after these lads. What was the one’s name who was nominated for an Oscar but lost?”
Eric rolled his eyes. “I went with that actress because TBK was doing business with her uncle’s company. It was just business. God, if you bring that up again I won’t be responsible for what I do.”
Gretchen held up her fists and smiled. “Bring it on, Eric. I’m a card-carrying matriarch of Fight Club,” she said with a wink. “Oops. I’ve said too much.”
Eric hugged and lifted Gretchen off the floor.
She laughed. “Put me down. I have work to do.”
He did and then kissed her on the forehead.
Megan liked how Eric was around Gretchen. It was a side of him she wanted to get to know more. There was real affection between the Knights and the dear lady.
“This handba
g is really that much?” Megan asked.
Gretchen walked up to her. “My dear, it doesn’t matter. It’s a gift.”
“But it isn’t. It’s part of my wardrobe allowance from TBK.”
The woman brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Megan, we both know better. The thing you’ve got to learn is how to accept gifts. I know that must be hard for you. I come from the East End. It’s the part of London where families struggle just to get by. My mother and father worked in the garment industry. The only gifts I ever got were an apple on my birthday and another on Christmas in my stocking.”
Scott put his arm around Gretchen, but didn’t say a word as she continued recounting her upbringing.
“Women like us have trouble accepting gifts. We always think there’s some nefarious motive. You’ve worked hard your whole life, haven’t you, dear? You’ve also known suffering and loss. I can see it in your eyes.”
Megan looked at the kind woman and saw a kindred spirit. “I know what you’re trying to do. But seriously, this purse is too much.” She pointed to the shopping bags on the floor. “These are too much and there are more in the truck. Eric and Scott have been kind and generous. They dropped the lawsuit. That would’ve been enough.”
Scott said, “Megan—”
“Quiet,” Gretchen said, cutting him off. “Let her finish and then I will speak. You two can say your piece after, if you have something to say, but not before. Go on, child.”
“They offered me a job. That would’ve been enough. But believing someone had used my computer without my knowledge at my home, they gave me a room here in this palace and a bodyguard. They flew me to New York on a private jet. That would’ve been enough. But this?” Again, she motioned to the piles of purchases. “It’s too much. I can’t accept it.”