by Aria Scott
Before I could leave, Kincaid addressed me directly, “Congratulations again, Mrs. Wilder. And please, send Mary my regards.”
I saw Chase scowl before I turned to leave. What business could this man possibly have with Luke? And why did he imply that he knew Chase’s mother so personally?
I saw Bud in the doggy playroom as I was searching for Mary. He was playing with Duke like they were old friends. “Hi, Bud. I see you’ve met Duke.”
Bud stood up. “Yep, Duke’s alright. Anyone interested in adopting him yet?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. A lot of people are intimidated by his size. But he’s really friendly once you get to know him.”
“Hmmm.” Bud’s eyes glinted with interest. “You’ve got a great thing going on here for dogs. I’m glad it all worked out for you, Miss Aubrey.”
“Me too.” I mentally crossed my fingers that Bud was considering adopting Duke. They would make a great match.
“Was that Judd Kincaid I saw in there?”
I nodded. “Yes, can you believe it?”
“Don’t get yourself involved with that one. No good can come of it.”
I refrained from commenting and luckily it didn’t look like Bud expected one.
For the next half hour, I hung out with my friends, all the while keeping one eye on the lookout for Chase or even seeing if I could spot Luke or Kincaid again. I was chatting with Lisa when Chase finally reappeared at my side.
He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I’m getting tired of waiting for our honeymoon night, Aubrey. I think it’s time we left this party.”
My pulse quickened. “I think you’re right. Let’s just say our goodbyes and then we can leave.”
Chase groaned with impatience. “Okay, but make it quick.”
Of course, it took longer than I thought. Dakota hugged me as we were leaving, insisting that she would clean up everything, before shooing us away.
Finally, we were free. As we got into Chase’s Mustang, I looked over at him. “Where are we going?”
“Back to your place?”
“But what about my parents?” That was sure to be awkward.
Chase pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward my house. “You’re parents are both staying at a hotel. Actually, your mother was asking me if we wanted to buy the house from them. I think they’re both ready to move on. I suspect they’ve only been hanging onto it for you.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.” I had chosen to remain in Grove while they had both moved on. “When did you have the time to find all this out?”
“I picked up your mother and Greg from the airport this morning. So, what do you think about buying the house? We need a place for when we’re not in Miami. Or we could find something else…”
“Oh my God, Chase. It’s really starting to sink in. We’re really married!”
Chase reached for my hand. “And I’ve been waiting to consummate this marriage for far too long.” He put his foot on the gas pedal. The engine barely made a sound, but the car accelerated like a shot out of a cannon.
“Cut it out!” I screeched. “I want to get home in one piece.”
Chase let up on the gas. “Sorry. I’m just impatient.”
It took another ten minutes to get home. Jokingly, Chase decided to carry me over the threshold. We were greeted by a raucous chorus of barking dogs.
I scratched behind Molly’s ears. “The dogs are excited to see you. Especially Jax.”
Chase knelt down to show them some affection. “Pour them a big bowl of dog food. We’re shutting the bedroom door and we won’t be coming out for a while.”
My face blushed bright red at his bold declaration, but my insides fluttered with anticipation. As we quickly headed toward my bedroom, I suddenly stopped.
“There’s something I forgot to tell you.”
The somber look on my face definitely had him worried. “What is it?”
I stalled for a moment, chewing on my lip, while I watched his worry deepen. “Well, my twin bed. It’s still broken. I never had it fixed.”
I watched the relief wash over his face, before he broke out into laughter. “That’s okay. By the time we’re done with it this time, there’ll be nothing left to it.”
“My poor bed.”
“Your lucky bed,” he replied with a devilish grin, and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go demolish it.”
THE END
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed reading Chase and Aubrey’s story! For a sneak peek of Luke’s story (the next book in the Wilder Brothers Romance series) please flip a few more pages.
Aria Scott
ARIA SCOTT resides on the East Coast with her husband and 3 fur babies, and writes what she loves to read best: steamy contemporary romance. A geek in high heels, she has degrees in information technology and chemistry; and also has a shoe fetish that has helped fill up her closet.
Aria loves the snow and ice. Her favorite place in the whole world is Grindelwald, Switzerland. Since she can’t visit as much as she’d like, you can often find her writing in front of a cozy fireplace, in the mountain cabin she shares with her family.
Check out her website: www.ariascott.com
She can be reached by email at: [email protected]
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LUKE WILDER’s
book being released in early spring!
Chapter 1
Luke
My pulse quickened as I glanced down at the map displayed on my cellphone showing that I’d arrive at my destination in less than a mile. The backcountry road cut through a leafy forest, winding further and further out of the public eye. I eased my pickup around a sharp curve and began scanning the right side of the road for the turn-off that I’d been told to take to get to Judd Kincaid’s estate. ATV trails ran through the woods on this side of road and I wondered if I was being monitored already, even though I wasn’t on his property yet.
About a minute later, I saw the turn-off. It was a narrow, but paved, road that led deeper into the woods. There was no sign marking the private road, nor any fancy pillars or mailboxes. If I hadn’t known where to slow down and search, I would have driven right past without ever noticing the nondescript road. Kincaid took his privacy seriously.
I turned onto the narrow drive and felt certain that I had just tripped a silent alert. My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I automatically began scanning the road ahead, side-to-side. My pulse spiked wildly for a moment when a squirrel staggered crazily into the road. I didn’t even have to tap the brakes- I was driving so cautiously- before the squirrel darted back into the underbrush. But the surge of adrenaline felt almost euphoric. I was on full alert.
Chuckling, I consciously relaxed my death grip on the steering wheel. I recognized these feelings. I was heading into enemy territory, not in a tank, but in my brand new Ford F-150. This time, squirrels were my biggest threat, not IEDs- like the one that had blown off half my left leg in Afghanistan.
I relaxed my rigid posture against the plush leather seats of the truck, breathing in the new car smell that I knew was likely cancer-causing fumes. I had chosen the F-150 because it was the vehicle of choice for half of Oklahoma, it seemed. I figured it was better to blend in with the crowd as a private investigator rather than stick out like a sore thumb. Turns out my truck needed a few more dents, rust spots and lots more dust and dirt in order to properly blend in.
It was about a half-mile down the lane when I came to the gate. It was a black wrought iron gate anchored between two stone pillars. I briefly debated if my truck, at a high enough speed, could smash through it and had my doubts. The black fencing extended beyond the stone pillars, presumably surrounding the entire estate. The fence looked to be about 10 feet high, definitely scalable if not for the anti-climb spikes. This place was forti
fied. I wondered what Kincaid was protecting- his wealth or his secrets?
I drove slowly until I was adjacent to the concrete stand with the call button. I rolled down my window while noting the discreet cameras, one pointed at my face and one aimed at my vehicle. Just to be annoying, I left my shades on and deliberately kept my face turned away from the camera as I pressed the button.
“One moment please,” the electronic-sounding voice demanded.
I waited silently. Were they running my face through facial recognition software? Or were they scanning the truck’s plates? My truck still had the temporary paper license plate that came with new cars, so their search would only uncover the car dealership as the registered owner. It depended on how sophisticated their system was if they were to get information that I had purchased this truck.
“Thank you, Mr. Wilder. Please proceed.”
The automated gate slowly opened. I drove through and watched in my rear view mirror as the gate began to swing shut the moment I passed the threshold. The scenery was unchanged on this side of the fence, thick woods with the occasional ATV track marking the forest floor.
Again, I felt that familiar buzz of feeling- pure instinct – that suggested I needed to remain alert. The trees gradually gave way to a clearing. Suddenly, I saw the estate up ahead. I didn’t know much about architecture, but it was a striking chateau with turrets, impressive carved ornamentation and a steeply pitched roof with at least a dozen chimneys adorning it. The structure was sprawling and quite asymmetrical, but surprisingly pleasing to the eye.
Besides the small ornamental trees, evergreens, sculpted topiaries and the stone fountain near the chateau itself, there was nothing but an acre of pristine and stunningly green grass surrounding it on all sides. There was no way to approach the residence without being seen well in advance. It was a subtle security measure that left the estate vulnerable only to overhead satellite imagery.
As I got closer, I passed between stone columns marking the entrance to the manicured grounds where the asphalt roadway turned to cobblestone. As I pulled my truck to the far end of the circular driveway, directly behind the stone fountain, a man in a business suit approached.
My first thought was that this man was a butler of some sort, but I quickly amended my assumption. He was a security guard. And not a rent-a-cop either. He was built rock solid – in top form with not an extra pound on him. He carried himself like a professional – I was sure he was ex-military.
He was immediately at my side as I stepped out of the truck. “Mr. Wilder, follow me please.”
He led me to the front door of the chateau and straight inside. Finally, he turned to me. “Mr. Wilder, I’ll have to ask you to hand over your firearm for safekeeping while you meet with Mr. Kincaid.”
There was no way the man could have seen any sign of the Glock that was tucked into the back of my waistband with my sports coat covering it. He must have been guessing.
“I don’t have anything in need of safekeeping.” I dared him to challenge me on that.
“I believe you do.” His chest puffed up subtly and he took an intimidating step toward me. “And unless you turn it over, there will be no meeting with Mr. Kincaid.”
There was no way in hell I was turning over my gun to this jackass. I folded my arms defiantly. “Then there will be no meeting.”
The man’s face remained impassive as I stood my ground. “Mr. Kincaid will not be happy about this.”
I shrugged my indifference, but really I felt anger bubbling up inside. I had already wasted too much time and energy on Judd Kincaid to dismiss it all with this petty nonsense. I yelled at myself for being so stubborn, yet I couldn’t back down.
Instinct had told me that getting involved with Kincaid was a bad idea. That’s exactly why it intrigued me so much. I had grappled with the idea of accepting his meeting invitation for days while I researched all the publicly available information on the infamous man.
Judd Kincaid was powerful. He worked mostly from the shadows – he moved around in top political circles, but he was almost never seen. He was born into extreme wealth; his father was a man who had politicians deep in his pocket and was widely influential in the top Oklahoma circles back in the day. Judd had expanded that power and influence nationwide, but flexed his muscles in private.
Most of the media coverage that I found about Judd Kincaid came from his generous philanthropy. As I dug deeper, I could find accusations of shady deals and sinister motivations. It was almost as if his philanthropy was just a form of penance to cover his dirty deeds. While he flew under the radar for the most part, there was no denying that the locals eyed him with suspicion and wild rumors circulated.
It wasn’t a question if he was good or bad, lawful or not - it didn’t really matter. He was an untouchable. The curiosity of what kind of ‘job’ Mr. Kincaid would offer me, had consumed me from the moment he had tracked me down at my brother Chase’s wedding party.
And now this pissing contest between me and the meathead guard was going to derail it all.
I snorted my disgust and headed toward the door, trying to make myself believe that this impasse was probably a blessing in disguise.
Before I could pull the door open, I heard the distinctive pitch of Judd Kincaid’s deep voice call out in greeting, “Luke Wilder. Welcome to my home.”
Kincaid entered the enormous foyer from a hall off to the left. When he reached my side, he slapped my back in a friendly gesture as he offered his hand to me, greeting me like we were old buddies, not strangers that had barely met before. As I shook his hand, he turned to the guard, “That will be all, Royce. We’ll be in the office. See that no one disturbs us.”
Without his trademark black cowboy hat, I could see that he was mostly bald on top with a ring of silver hair remaining around the sides and back of his head. He was built like a bear - over six feet tall and probably 50 pounds overweight – but he moved with the grace of a younger and more athletic man.
He led me into his office and indicated that I sit in the leather armchair positioned across from his desk. “It’s always amazes me. Probably 95% of my guests hand over their guns to Royce without so much as a peep.” He shook his head sadly before laughing. “A bunch of pussies.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer, so I just nodded as he eased his large frame up to the bar cart on the side of the room.
“Would you like a drink? Scotch? Neat?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
Neither of us spoke as he poured the drinks. He handed me the glass before settling into the chair behind his desk.
“This isn’t a job interview, Luke. May I call you that?”
I nodded my agreement, but he had already continued speaking.
“I already know I want you for this job. In fact…” He paused while he retrieved a large file from a drawer and plunked it down on top of his desk. “I’ve got all I need to know about you right here. Military records. Medical records. Psychological evaluations. Your PI license, your concealed carry permit. And of course a full background check. I even have a hand written letter from your goddamned kindergarten teacher in here.”
I took a sip of the scotch letting the liquid roll around in my mouth before I swallowed. It was surprising how smooth it was and how it didn’t burn at all. It was definitely expensive stuff. “Funny. I don’t remember releasing any of that information to you?”
Kincaid laughed. “You’re a smart man, Luke. I’m sure you know how these things work. Let’s not waste each other’s time talking about such a mundane subject.”
It irritated me to no end, but I let it go. Kincaid had clearly broken more than one law and grossly violated my privacy, but it would never go anywhere if I were to pursue it. Besides, I’d be stupid to cross a man like Kincaid and he knew it.
Satisfied that we were on the same page, he continued, “As I said earlier, I’ve already chosen you for this job. Now I just need to persuade you. Money’s usually the easiest way, it’s painless a
nd efficient, but I’ve studied your file. While you’ll be paid handsomely for this job, I can tell that you’re one of the rare challenges - that can’t be bought. I like that.”
Kincaid sat back in his chair, like he was settling in for a long story. I remained silent while he took a sip of his scotch before continuing.
“You’ve heard of the carrot and stick method? When money doesn’t work as a carrot, usually the stick method is quite effective. People tend to bend so quickly. Again there are rare exceptions- and I greatly respect these men- where their resolve grows even stronger when the stick is applied.”
I was growing impatient. “Why are you speaking in riddles? Why don’t you tell me what this job is about, and then I’ll give you my answer?”
He leaned his elbows on the desk in front of him and steepled his fingers together. “This is a matter very important to me. I cannot stress that enough.”
Kincaid opened up the thick file labeled ‘Luke Wilder’ on his desk and retrieved the top sheet of paper from the stack. “This is a NDA. A non-disclosure agreement. I’m going to ask you to sign this before I disclose the nature of the job to you. Then, even if you don’t accept the job, I’ll know that you won’t talk about it. If you break my confidence, legal worries will be the least of your problems.”
He slid the paper toward me and then placed a pen on top of it. His language was threatening, even though so far I had done nothing. I felt my senses tingling. I should get up and walk right out the door. Once I signed the paper, I knew I would be partially trapped in his web. I could sense the danger.
I read through the document. Spelled out in legalese was an agreement that I wouldn’t disclose any information pertaining to my work with Judd Kincaid to anyone. There was nothing unexpected in there.
Kincaid watched me intently, like a spider waiting for its next victim to become ensnared.