by Lexi Blake
Nick knew he should have seen what was happening under Owen’s sunny exterior.
He’d lost a ton of weight, but sometimes when he smiled, Nick could see a hint of his old friend. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m helping Teresa manage the front office.”
He was nosing around Teresa was what he was doing. Despite the fact that the man had been wretchedly sick, he perked up around the sub.
He didn’t remember that he’d already screwed the poor girl over and she’d likely never give him the time of day.
What would it be like to forget all his sins?
“It’s all right. What do you need?” He wasn’t getting anywhere with the files in front of him. Files on the six men who, like Owen, had their lives decimated by Hope McDonald. The doctor was dead, but her legacy lived on in those men they’d taken to calling the lost boys. Men with families and lives somewhere out there. A puzzle Nick hadn’t been able to solve yet.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
Nick straightened up. He didn’t have any appointments today. There was nothing on his calendar at all because he was working the lost boys’ cases. He didn’t get clients walking in off the street. McKay-Taggart and Knight didn’t advertise and The Garden wasn’t a normal office building where one could wander in. No one knew where he worked. Unless it was someone Damon sent. He relaxed a bit. “Is Ezra back from wherever he’s been?”
Ezra Fain was a CIA agent they’d been working with a bit as they tried to figure out who the lost boys were.
Owen shook his head. “No. It’s a woman. Pretty thing, too. Says she knows you. Quite insistent.”
“Yes, I am. Could you please move? I’m not leaving until I see him.”
Nick froze at the sound of that husky American accent. It couldn’t be. He hadn’t seen her since the day of Desiree’s funeral, and even then it had been from a distance because the family wouldn’t let him in. He’d watched her, remembering the way she looked when she’d clung to him, wrapping her body around him while he drove into her.
And he’d remembered the way she looked when he’d told her he still wasn’t leaving her cousin.
Hayley Dalton pushed past Owen, barging into his office. She looked every bit as delicious and curvy as she had that night they’d spent together five years before when she’d found him after a nasty fight with Des. She’d offered him comfort and he’d taken her up on it.
He’d spent one perfect night in her arms and in the morning he’d gone back to his own terrible reality.
She’d been the funny, sweet, smart girl he’d enjoyed talking to when he was forced to spend time with Des’s horrible family. He’d liked her and he would never, ever tell her how close he came to walking away with her.
Especially not when she despised him. Not when she blamed him for her cousin’s death.
“You owe me, Nick. You owe me and I’ve come to collect.”
He was quiet for a moment. She was here. Right here in his office. She was standing there like a young Valkyrie demanding her due.
For the first time in years, Nick felt his heart rate tick up, his blood start to flow, like he’d been a clockwork man all this time and someone had wound him up slightly.
He stared at her for a moment, taking in the changes five years had brought. She was still breathtaking with dark hair and clear blue eyes, but she’d lost the charming awkwardness that had once marked the way she carried herself. She’d grown into her body, becoming both vibrant girl and devastating woman. She’d once shyly asked him to marry her, to run away with her and let her show him how well they could work.
The woman in front of him didn’t ask. She demanded.
Damn but that did something for him.
“Would you like to come in and have a seat?” He was pleased with how even his tone was as he sat back, gesturing for her to sit in the chair in front of his desk. “Owen, thank you for showing my friend to my office. Perhaps later we can meet up for a drink.”
Owen frowned. “Kayla wants me to listen in so I can give her all the gossip.”
Kayla was a brat of the highest order. “Tell my dearest friend that she should be minding her own business.”
“Apparently her business is boring right now,” Owen said with a shake of his head as he closed the door.
And left Nick alone with one of two women who dominated his dreams for the last five years. “You’re looking well, Hayley.”
“You look tired, Nick.”
He would give her that. “My job here is stressful at times.”
“Your job at the sex club?”
He bit back a laugh. It was said with the intolerance of youth. “No. I don’t actually get paid to go to The Garden at night. I was talking about my job here at McKay-Taggart and Knight. We work in the security field.”
“So the sex club is just for fun?”
He wished she would stop sounding like a prude. “I’m sure my boss makes money off it, too, but I don’t find that part of my life stressful.”
She was still frowning, the expression causing the cutest line in the middle of her brow. “Nick, are you screwing with me? Like you used to? There’s not a sex club, is there?”
Like he used to. He would tease her. Tell her all sorts of crazy stories about life in Russia and how he’d been forced to ride through the twenty-foot snowdrifts in order to get to his schoolroom. He would spend his time with Hayley at the family functions Des had taken him to. Hayley had been a changeling—a sweet soul left amongst the vipers. “There certainly is a club. These offices support McKay-Taggart and Knight. The club, bar, lounge, and locker rooms are all on the first floor and they support the dungeon.”
Hayley was pacing, her petite form moving back and forth across his office. “Dungeon?”
How much would he have to explain? “Have you ever heard of BDSM?”
Her clear blue eyes rolled. “I’m not stupid, Nicky. I’ve heard of BDSM. I read books.”
If she knew about BDSM, she read some dirty books. And the fact that she’d called him Nicky and not Mr. Markovic sent a thrill through him he hadn’t been expecting. “Then you understand that it’s more of a lifestyle club. Some sex might happen, but it’s not like there’s a nightly orgy.”
She turned a lovely shade of red. “I should have known Des would end up in a damn brothel.”
For the first time, anger flared through him. “It’s not a brothel. It’s a place where people find themselves. If you’re so sure of who you are, then you have no need of it. Good for you, Hayley. You’ve done something many can’t. You’re a whole twenty-five years old and need no more experience. I’m sure you have a husband by now who takes good care of you.”
“You know damn well I’m not married.”
“No, I don’t. Believe it or not, since the moment Desiree was buried, I haven’t kept in close touch with your family. Not that they would allow me to do so. I wasn’t even allowed to attend the funeral. I only knew your father had died because his accident made the news.” It was a huge open wound. He and Des had been…friends…lovers…something to each other for more than half a decade and he’d been barred from her final passage.
He’d been forced to stand back, a hundred yards away from where she’d been buried.
She hadn’t wanted to be buried. She’d wanted to have her ashes scattered across the globe by him, but her family had gotten a lawyer and now she was confined to the family crypt.
Somehow the thought of Des being trapped hurt him. Despite all the turmoil they’d had in their life together, he’d still cared for her. He’d thought about marrying her. Even though he’d known not to ask because marriage would have been like the crypt to Desiree.
Hayley’s arms went over her chest, a protective gesture. “I was against them barring you. Des wouldn’t have wanted that. You have to understand. My aunt and uncle didn’t know what Des did for a living. For years she told them she was working for the United Nations and that was why she traveled so often. They believed her
. They thought you were trying to drag her down.”
He knew the story. He didn’t need it repeated to him. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” She took a step back and seemed to calm herself. Her hands came out in front of her, wringing slightly. “She would have wanted you there. She would have been angry about you being kept out. I should have said something.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t your place. You need your family. I shouldn’t come between you.”
“I haven’t seen my English relatives in years. Not since I started college. I don’t go to many family functions anymore,” she admitted. “It wasn’t like they were lovely people or anything. I don’t know exactly why my dad insisted on going to those reunions. We were always looked down on as the poor relations.”
He’d wondered, too. Her father had seemed like a secretive fellow. Des would only tell him that Paul Dalton was a small-time con artist and part-time poker pro. Hayley’s childhood had been a never ending up and down, with the ground always shifting under her. “Des loved you.”
Hayley smiled, a wan lifting of her lips. “As much as Des could love anyone.”
Yes, she would have said the same thing. Des’s love always came with a warning. “Yes. So why are you here? How exactly do I owe you, dushka? I can think of many reasons you would come to me for retribution or compensation.”
Her skin flushed and he wished he’d been a bit more temperate in his speech.
Her jaw firmed and she placed her hands on his desk, staring him down once more. “I don’t think I need to remind you exactly why you owe me personally. I will remind you of what you told me that day. You said if I ever needed something, you would help me.”
“Are you in some sort of trouble?”
Her eyes slid away and she started to pace. Not once had she stopped moving. “Yes. I need protection, but more than that, I need a safe place to stay and I need an investigator to figure out why someone would blow up my house.”
Nick found himself on his feet in an instant. “What do you mean?”
Sometimes Americans spoke in hyperbole. He’d gotten used to it. Walt, a doctor on the team, talked about “blowing” stuff up all the time. What he really meant was changing things and rapidly. Surely that was what she meant.
“I mean my little two bedroom in the suburbs went kaboom, and not because of a gas leak like the cops are trying to tell me. Do you honestly think I could afford that place on my own? I bought it with the money my dad left me and I’ll never be able to rebuild it for what the insurance will give me. If they give it to me after they figure out it wasn’t an accident. Everything I owned was in that house. Every dish I’ve bought. Every stupid glitter turkey I picked up at an after-holiday sale because one damn day I was going to have enough friends to have a Thanksgiving party. Every book. Everything.”
He didn’t hold back. He knew he should, but he couldn’t leave her standing there alone. He crossed the space between them and opened his arms, wrapping her up and holding her.
She was stiff in his arms for a moment, and then her body cuddled closer and she let him hold her. “I could have been in that house. I didn’t have anything scheduled during office hours and I thought about going home early. It was only luck that I didn’t.”
She could have been lost forever and no one would have contacted him to let him know. He would have thought about her forever, never knowing she was gone. It struck him forcibly, the idea lodging in his gut like a stone weighing him down. He held her tighter.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, dushka. You can’t imagine how… You’re safe now.” He let his hand find her hair, touching the silk of it while her body shook.
She held on to him and cried for a moment. Her arms suddenly clutched him as though she was afraid he would let go.
He could have told her he had no intention of letting her go. None. He held her close and let her cry.
“We’ll get you new things. I promise. I won’t allow you to be uncomfortable.” Her childhood had been a vagabond existence. She’d talked that night about building a different life.
Imagine it, Nicky. We could have a house and friends who are always there. Friends we don’t have to track down. We could have a comfy couch and we would sit on it every Sunday morning and read the paper while we drink our coffee out of dumb mugs we bought for each other. You know. The kind that says World’s Greatest Lover or some silly thing.
She’d needed the shelter of a permanent home and she’d built it all by herself, and now it was gone.
And she’d come to him. When her world had gone dark, she’d run straight into his arms.
“I’ll take care of you, dushka. I promise. I’ll make sure you’re all right and I’ll deal with the authorities. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” His mind was whirling and he knew what a damn bastard he was. That hadn’t changed, but other things had in the last five years.
What kind of man was he that he could hold her while she cried, and all along think about the fact that all those reasons he’d walked away from her five years ago were gone now.
There was no Russian mob vendetta on his head, no vengeance he needed to seek. His job was a bit dangerous, but stable for the most part. He was more likely to be involved in tracking down corporate spies than the more dangerous kind. He had money saved up and he’d been granted British citizenship. He was stable and secure.
She felt so right in his arms.
She gradually calmed, her sobbing relenting to low shudders of her body against his. When she looked up, her eyes were red and yet she was still so beautiful. He stared at her, trying to remember the last time he’d seen such honest emotion. Only in scenes, really. It was the only place he allowed women like Hayley close to him.
Hayley reminded him of the boss’s wife. Penelope Knight was that open. Smart and funny and unafraid to allow her emotions to show.
Damon Knight was a happy man.
How long had it been since he’d been happy? Maybe not since that night he’d spent with her. Not truly happy. He’d had moments of passion, moments of fierce joy, but not a single time when he was content.
Not until this one. How shitty was it that he was happy her house had burned down because it had sent her to him? Okay, he wasn’t happy that her house was gone, but he wasn’t sad that she was here in his arms.
Did he deserve her here? It didn’t matter because she’d made the choice. She had wealthy family to turn to, but she’d come to him. She’d made her decision.
She sniffled and started to pull away. He immediately let go because he intended to take things slowly this time. The first time she’d come to him, he’d allowed his passion to take the lead. This time he intended to let his head rule over his damn cock. She’d been through enough. She needed to feel safe, and groping her wasn’t going to accomplish that.
“I don’t think talking to the authorities is going to help.” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes. She stared at the floor as she started to pace again. “I mean, feel free to talk to them, but I would prefer they not know where I am.”
“They have to know where you are. There are many forms for you to sign. You have insurance, right?”
“Of course, but it’s bigger than insurance settlements.”
He wished he was still holding her. “Any number of things could have happened. If the police believe it was a gas leak, why would you think differently? Who have you angered, dushka? Surely your students aren’t going to plant explosives simply because you gave them a bad grade.”
“It’s not about me. At least I don’t think so.”
He couldn’t imagine it, either. She was too kind and giving to call this kind of evil to her through her actions. “Have you had a boyfriend you turned away?”
That he could see. God knew he understood what it meant to be obsessed with a woman.
“There was one guy, but I seriously doubt Harrison would know how to build a bomb. No, he’s the kind of guy who would come after me in print.
He makes a hobby out of tearing apart my professional papers. I tried to tell him that it only made him look like an idiot and his arguments are specious at best, but he still comes at me from every angle. Well, every literary angle. He’s an ass but not a killer.”
As he suspected. “You’re more than welcome to stay with me. I’ll handle everything, but I think you have to consider that the police are right and this was a gas line explosion.”
Her eyes came up, fire flashing there. “No. This is what you don’t get to do. This is what you owe me, Nick. You will work this case and you won’t charge me. You’ll provide me with a place to stay that’s safe and you will believe me when I tell you this wasn’t an accident.”
“You’re not the type of woman people try to kill. Why would you think this wasn’t an accident? It doesn’t make it any less tragic and it won’t make me want to help you less. You don’t need an excuse, Hayley. I’m happy you’re here. I want you here. Why don’t we go to dinner and we can talk this out? You don’t need some crazy story to make me interested in you. I’ve always been interested.”
“You arrogant bastard. Do you honestly believe I traveled halfway across the planet with some crazy, made-up story so I could maybe spend another few hours in your bed? If you’re bored and have nothing else to do, of course. We both know I’m not your type.”
He’d said those words trying to make the break with her as quickly as possible, trying to spare her the pain of regret. If she hated him, she would move on. Now it seemed to him neither of them had moved on. He was drifting aimlessly and she’d apparently had one serious boyfriend in five years. “I didn’t mean word I say that night. Please to come to dinner with me. I’ll explain. I would love nothing more than chance to explain.”