How to Kill Your Boss

by Krissy Daniels

  I hugged her tight. “How are you holding up?” I asked.

  She sniffled. “Plugging along. I’m surprised to see you here.” Her embrace lacked any effort or emotion.

  “Yeah, well. I guess I have a company to run,” I said, releasing her.

  “So I hear.” Dark shadows clouded her eyes, but her face paled.

  “Nan. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to take the lead while I figure out what the hell I’m doing. Everybody knows you run this place anyway.”

  She looked at the floor and shifted her feet. “Tatum. I don’t know what to say. I assumed the worst of you and I’m truly sorry.”

  “Don’t. It was no secret I detested the man.” I paused and sucked in an encouraging breath. “How long have you been in love with him?”

  Her eyes snapped to mine. Wide. Disbelieving. Relieved. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Years, Tatum. Years.”

  “I’m sorry.” I was. How she could love a man like him, I’d never understand. But loss was loss. Grieving sucked.

  “Thank you.”

  “Is anyone else here?” I asked, plopping my tired rear into my chair.

  “Yes. They came back for you, dear. Everyone except for John. I’m sure you’ve heard. Oh, and Franklin.” She hadn’t heard about Franklin. Nobody had. They couldn’t. I’d have to tell everyone he quit.

  I still couldn’t believe John had been in on it. “Nan, I have to ask you something.” She stopped in the doorway and turned back toward me. “Did you know about the actors Wallace hired?”

  “No. I didn’t. And I won’t believe it until I see proof.” Her voice cracked. God, she had been smitten. And delusional.

  “Okay,” I conceded. How could she have loved the weasel and known the comings and goings of everyone in the company for the last four years and not have a clue about Wallace’s shenanigans? It wasn’t the day to push. “I’m not ready to dive in yet, but maybe you can help me get his office in order later this week.”

  “I’ve already started. Hope you don’t mind. I figured you’d want to move in as soon as possible. You can’t run a company from this sad excuse for an office.” She offered a pathetic grin.

  “I was hoping you’d take it. I’d rather work out of the janitor’s closet.”

  Her face lit up.

  “Let’s talk about this later. Today, it’s business as usual. I’ll man the phones, you do what you do. Sound good?” I asked.

  “Sounds lovely.”

  Relief washed some of the sadness from her eyes. She shot me a thankful glance and headed to her office. I got busy with my routine. Or tried, anyway.

  My Franklin-sized hole was back. The place was a prison. The sun shone bright, but my office closed in around me, dark and dismal. Or maybe that was my spirit caving in.

  I dug my cell from my purse and ran my finger over the screen. I could call him. Maybe the sound of his voice would soothe the ache. My finger itched to push the dial button. What would I even say?

  The man had stalked me my whole life. He’d manipulated me from the shadows. Kept me from experiencing relationships or nurturing friendships. I had been an unknowing puppet. He’d been the master. How many boys had he threatened? Assaulted? Did Dad put him up to it or did he develop that skill on his own?

  Was he watching me now? I studied the small room. There were few places a camera could hide. I wasn’t going to search. Instead, I flipped my middle finger to every corner of the room, scooped up my handbag and keys and headed down the hall.

  My phone buzzed, announcing a text. A bomb exploded behind my left breast.

  That wasn't nice.

  Gah! Bastard was watching me. Fire brewed in my belly and spread to my aching brain. I strode to Nan’s office. She sat, staring blankly.

  “You got things covered here?” I asked.

  “What’s wrong? Your face is beet red.”

  So was hers, but I didn’t want to say anything. “I have to go. Something’s come up. I hate asking you this, but can you handle things?”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Tatum. I’ve handled things for years. Go. Do what you have to do. You’re the boss now, remember? Oh, by the way, I put an ad out to hire a new receptionist.”

  Huh. Wise move, considering I’d been promoted to head honcho. “You’re the best. You know that?”

  She waved me off.

  I stormed to the elevator, searching the corners and ceiling for cameras. I wouldn’t see them. Wasn’t sure why I bothered to look. I flipped my middle finger again. My phone buzzed.

  You’re hurting my feelings.

  God. Did he think this was funny? This needed to stop. Today. I couldn’t live my life constantly looking over my shoulder, guarding my every move.

  I slid into my car and paused for some deep breathing exercises. My hands trembled with rage. My vision blurred with angry tears. I couldn’t drive until I calmed down. Resting my head against the seat, I studied the ceiling of my car. Nothing looked unusual. I flipped my middle finger and waited.

  Nothing. When I’d calmed, I started the car and headed toward a confrontation that would either make or break me. Or, gauging by the thunderous roar of blood pounding through my ears, end with Franklin bloody at my feet.

  Woman scorned and all.

  * * * *

  I drudged up the stairwell leading to his apartment, bursting with nervous energy. A rush of dread swept through me when I spied the bullet holes in the door. Bullets meant for me, that by some miracle had missed their mark. Except it wasn’t a miracle. It was Franklin Reed.

  My first attempt at knocking was more of a tap. Sheesh, why was I so nervous to face him? I hit the door again with my palm and made it loud.

  No answer.

  I headed downstairs to the bar. Like a super magnet controlled me, my eyes were drawn to him seated in our special corner, hunched over the table, eyes glued to his cell. He didn’t look up.

  Lizzie grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side. “No trouble, okay?”

  Did my fury show? “No trouble, I promise. Is he drunk?”

  “No. He just came down. I haven’t served him yet. Don’t want to. I hate seeing him that way.”

  Why did it warm my heart knowing she was watching out for him? “God, I love you, Lizzie.” I kissed her cheek.

  I walked slowly to where he sat, biding time to let my courage build. He glanced up, eyes clouded with remorse. My knees buckled. When he caught my gaze, ten years melted off his face. He immediately stood, grabbed my elbow and led me out the back door.

  I was out of breath by the time he pulled me into the apartment, not from exertion, but anticipation. Strong fingers sent pulses of electricity through me, striking my girlie parts. The man commanded my full compliance with the force of his being. I was doomed.

  He closed the door and pushed me against it, pinning me with his hips. Oh, God. There wasn’t time to state my reason for coming. He tilted his head, searching my eyes, stealing my ability to speak, then took my mouth with fierce, desperate abandon.

  He melted me from the inside out. The way that man kissed. Holy hell. It was lust, passion, need. But more than that, desperation. Like goodbye. Like this was the last time we’d share a lover’s embrace and he wanted to communicate everything he couldn’t put into words. He poured his heartache, remorse, and loneliness into it, expressing his internal struggle. I realized, in the midst of his brutally honest kiss, I didn’t want to be the cause of his torment. I wanted to be the cure.

  I kissed him back, forcing my anger and hurt at him. My own desperate need. His strong hands slid up my back, then he cupped my head just below the stitches, protecting me from the hard door. Always shielding me.

  His lips left mine and made their way down my neck, then over my thin blouse to my breast. Oh no, I was going to come. If he so much as breathed on my nipple, I would explode.

  “Franklin, I—”

  “Shhh.” He silenced me. “No words
, not now, please, baby.” He worked the buttons of my blouse. “Just feel. Feel what you do to me.”

  “No,” I moaned, unimpressed by my own conviction. I’d come here to put an end to this mad affair, hadn’t I?

  “Not no. Not today. ‘No’ doesn’t exist.” He reached down, hiked up my skirt and hooked his thumbs into the waist of my panties. “Say ‘yes,’ love. Please. I’m suffocating. Can’t breathe without you.”

  Oh crap. Why did he have to talk like that? “Yes,” I moaned. Wait. Shit, what was I doing? “No.” I shook my head and slapped my palm to his chest. “No.” I pushed, but he didn’t budge.

  His hands fisted against my hips, and he dropped his forehead to mine.

  “No.” Each time I said it, I reclaimed a few of my wits.

  I’d never been overcome by such a mish-mash of emotion. I didn’t know how to sort or where to catalog. This was wrong, right? Franklin murdered people—he spied, lied, and God only knew what else. He said it was for the good guys. Did that make it right?

  “Franklin,” I whispered. “This has to end. We can’t continue like this.”

  A disgruntled groan vibrated low in his throat. “I’m not a monster.”

  Oh, shit. “No, you’re not. And that’s my point. What you’re doing, what you’ve done. It has to stop. I’m not your possession or your responsibility. You can’t spy on me, or lie, or control who I see, what I do, where I go.”

  He dropped his hands and stepped back. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then help me, because I’m trying to make sense of this and I can’t. You know everything about me. More than I know. It’s my life. Do you know how fucked up that is? I can’t live like that.”

  He lifted his face to the ceiling, rolled his shoulders and pumped his fists. One, two, three deep breaths and he drew me to his chest, fingers curling into my shoulders. For the first time ever, I saw fear in his eyes. I put it there. “You can’t run. I’m begging you. You are my everything. Do you understand? I can’t let you go.” His breaths blew hot and measured in my face.

  The panicked, desperate pain behind his words should’ve wounded me, but only added spice to the brewing pot of frustration boiling inside me. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to run, but how can I stay? You’ve manipulated my life for how long now? You’re still spying on me. Don’t you see how wrong it is? Don’t you get it?” I wanted to scream, kick, punch, and draw blood all over again.

  “Being without you is wrong,” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s what I know. You’re all I have left. That’s my reality.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me with him. I scrambled to pull my skirt down over my butt as he led me through the hallway and into his bedroom, kicking the door open.

  He stopped in front of his wall-o’-weirdness. “I was a freshman in high school when I started this board. Fourteen years old. You were ten. Tony said it would help keep me focused on the target. Was it wrong? Maybe. I’m not going to question his motives. It brought me to you.” His hand tightened around my wrist.

  “You were only fourteen. You couldn’t have loved me.” I tried to regain control of my aching appendage. He sighed and released me.

  Franklin turned, burning a hole through me with the intensity of his glare. “You don’t have a Goddamned clue what I felt.”

  Oh. It was disgusting the way that look made my insides twitch. “You’re right, because I know nothing about you.” I stepped back. “You know what doesn’t make sense? If Dad loved us both so much, why didn’t he introduce us? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

  Franklin dropped his arms to his sides in defeat. “He didn’t want you to know that side of him. Your Dad lived and breathed the darkest parts of humanity. He didn’t want any of that ugly touching you. I didn’t either.”

  I stumbled backward and plopped my rear on the bed. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Franklin.”

  “Killer.” He sat and leaned forward, elbows to knees, hands clasped, head tilted to look at me. His deep blue eyes captivated me, sung to me, worshipped me. “You’re here because you can’t stay away any more than I can. Because we fit. Crazy as it is, we fit.” Franklin leaned in and stole a kiss.

  “Don’t,” I gasped, pulling away.

  “Don’t now or don’t ever?” he asked, the tension in his voice palpable.

  I stood, brushed a finger across his lips, then turned toward the wall of photos. If there was any chance of things working between us, that wall needed to go, along with the spyware recording my every move. For the moment, I could do nothing about the surveillance gear, but the pictures? Well….

  “I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t,” he pleaded.

  I looked over my shoulder to shoot him a glare. Then I started ripping the pictures of me off his wall.

  I got a few good chunks torn down before Franklin caged me in his deadly weapons disguised as arms. “Please, stop.”

  “No. These go, or I do.” It was a threat I wasn’t sure I could follow through on, but I needed to get my point across.

  “You’re not going anywhere. Neither are they.”

  “Let go of me.” I wiggled against him, trying to wrench myself free. Damn, the man was strong. And he smelled yummy. Made it difficult to stand my ground and fight. “Don’t you see? I’m right here. I’m right here in front of you. You don’t need those anymore. Take them down, please.” God, why was my voice so weak and shaky?

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s my history, too.” He let me go and grabbed a photo from the top right corner. “See this one?” I studied it. It was taken while I waited for the school bus on my first day of high school. “That’s the day I took my mother to the emergency room for the first time. She’d swallowed a bottle of pills.” He tossed it on the bed. “You helped me cope.”

  “And this one.” He pulled another picture off the wall, then sat back down on the bed. It was of Mom and me eating lunch at our favorite bistro. “That’s the day Tony realized I was in love with you. He tried to beat some sense into me. I’d been training, though, and I held my ground. I didn’t strike him back, out of respect.” Franklin chuckled. “The bastard broke my nose. Told me that love made us weak.”

  I hadn’t known my father at all. I rubbed the small bump at the bridge of his snout. “Why didn’t you ever reach out to me?”

  “He would’ve killed me, Tate. He didn’t want you connected to this life any more than I did. I was his recruit. And you have to understand, if I fucked up, especially over a woman, it would’ve tarnished his reputation.”

  “He wouldn’t have killed you literally.”

  “Baby, the Antonio you knew wouldn’t have. The Tony I knew would’ve in a heartbeat, to keep you safe.”

  “Just like you.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I learned from the best.”

  “Take the pictures down.” I pushed myself between his legs and cupped his face, tilting it up to look at me. “Put them in a box.” I bent and softly grazed his lips. “Put them in a photo album. I don’t care. Just no more of this creepy wall.” See? I could compromise. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need those anymore.”

  Franklin pulled me in for a hug, snuggling his cheek against my breasts. “You’re being awful bossy, Miss Wood.” He slid his hands down my back and rested them on my rear.

  “A girl has to be the boss once in a while.”

  “Hmm,” he groaned, pulling my skirt back up to expose my ass. My body warmed, from the inside out. A throbbing heat hit my cheeks.

  “Franklin, I—”

  Before I could finish, I was lifted, twirled and tossed on the bed.

  “No—no—no. Not here.” I scooted back, away from the beast stalking me. Hungry and dangerous. Oh, shit. I was not about to get naked and sweaty in a room filled with computers and a wall full of—me. No way. I jumped from the bed and sprinted into the bathroom, locking the door be
hind me.

  “Tate, baby,” he groaned into the door. “What’s going on?”

  “I need to clean up a bit.” Lie. I needed to pull myself together. The man fried my brain cells just by looking at me the right way. “I’ll be right out. And we are not going back in that room.”

  “Fine, but hurry. I’m taking you home where I can fuck you senseless in every one of your rooms. Oh, and I’m bringing rope.”

  Why did that make my heart beat so fast? Going home would be good. We’d be alone in the car, where he couldn’t distract me with sex, and we could talk. Perfect. I used the toilet, fluffed my hair, righted my clothes.

  Then I made him wait.

  Chapter 18

  I grabbed my red Burberry satchel from the spot it’d been so mindlessly discarded on the floor earlier and trotted down the stairs with Franklin. After he tucked me into my seat and closed the door, I checked my phone to find three missed calls from Leland. I’d return them when I got home. I needed the fifteen-minute, sex-free drive time to talk to my man.

  Franklin’s phone buzzed as he pulled out of the parking lot. He didn’t even check the screen.

  “That’s the first time I’ve seen you ignore a call,” I teased.

  “If there’s no ringtone, I don’t answer.” He tucked it into the cup holder.

  Hmm. “Do I have a ringtone?” I better. His stupid ex had a ringtone. A sultry ringtone. Mine better be damned good.

  His sexy lips curled at the corners and he stared at the road ahead.

  “Do I?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  I grabbed my phone to dial his number, but mine buzzed in my hand first. It was Leland for the fourth time in the past hour. A knotted nest of angry snakes took residence in my stomach. I pushed accept on the screen. “Hey, Leland. Everything okay?”

  “Tatum, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Where the hell are you?” He sounded breathless and agitated.

  “What’s wrong?” I croaked.