Dirty Games is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Loveswept Ebook Original
Copyright © 2018 by HelenKay Dimon
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Ebook ISBN 9780399179990
Cover design: Okay Creations
Cover photograph: Volodymyr Tverdokhlib/Shutterstock
randomhousebooks.com
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Author’s Note
Dedication
By HelenKay Dimon
About the Author
Chapter 1
Justin Miller had reached his limit. He’d been sending messages to his boss in Germany from here in Morocco. The charity, the missing shipments, incorrect manifests, the drop-offs that were light on food and supplies—something wasn’t right and Justin needed answers.
Today was the day for a showdown. Alec Drummond would touch down and come see him. They’d worked together for almost seven years. Alec, the aloof businessman who owned and ran a billion-dollar international agricultural business. Justin, the guy paid to run the ground operations of the business’s charitable arm.
Justin was the one in the field. When things went wrong, when people died, it fell on him. That meant he spent a good portion of the day shouting and issuing orders, which worked for him, because ten years in the army had honed those skills.
Oliver Jacobsen, his second-in-command, stepped up beside him at the open double-door entrance of the twenty-foot octagonal tent—just one of many. This one served as his office and included both emergency sleeping quarters for him in the form of a cot and a place for his executive staff to work and meet.
Justin watched a nondescript black sedan drive into camp, kicking up dirt and rocks on the unpaved road. He bit back a curse. The last thing he needed was an annoying billionaire poking around, but this had to be done. The good news was Alec tended to be smart about these things. He traveled without fanfare and blended in. He didn’t use a chauffeur or flash his wealth around. He also didn’t like being summoned, and Justin had basically done that, so this should be an interesting meeting.
The front passenger door opened. A long leg encased in olive cargo utility pants appeared first, then the rest of him. No suit. No insisting on someone opening the door for him.
So far, so good.
Justin’s eyes traveled up to a trim waist, over an impressively flat stomach for a guy who sat at a desk all day and…fuck. Justin froze. It had to be eighty outside and every muscle tightened to the point of snapping.
That wasn’t Alec. The guy didn’t even turn fully around before Justin identified him. The light brown hair and broad shoulders. The high perfect ass that even practical pants couldn’t hide. The newcomer shifted and that smile came into view. The one with the dimple Justin couldn’t quite make out from this distance but knew was there.
Six foot one of pure walking sex. Big brown eyes and the chiseled face. Justin didn’t have to search his mind for the memory. Finn Drummond occupied a permanent space there, no matter how hard Justin tried to shake the vision free.
Then Finn moved. With each step his brown boots crunched against the gravel path. He might be the youngest Drummond brother in a family of socially aloof overachievers, but determination and self-confidence pulsed off him. Yeah, he knew his place in the world; he’d staked a seat at the very top of the food chain.
Justin decided to fall back on his general hatred of entitlement. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked, not bothering to lower his voice or whisper in that polite British accent of his.
“That’s the wrong Drummond brother.” The right one in so many ways. The one Justin fantasized about. Not as much recently, but nonstop a few years back after they first met. Six years, two months ago, but who was counting. The wrong Drummond brother because this guy should have off-limits tattooed on his forehead.
Finn showing up amounted to a big fucking problem. Justin had been prepared to talk the cargo supply issue out with Alec. To stay calm and reasonable, if possible, and present evidence that shipments weren’t getting here as scheduled.
Alec appreciated people being blunt and prepared. Justin had no idea how to deal with Finn. He’d failed every time they’d met over the years. It didn’t happen often, only once a year, but there was that one time with the odd vibe that felt like flirting. Every other time Justin had kept a mental distance while deep inside he imagined touching Finn, knowing it couldn’t happen because Justin had tried the straight guy thing once and never again.
He waited until Finn stopped in front of him. When the younger man started to say something, Justin jumped in first. “Alec sent you?”
Justin’s smile didn’t waver as he turned to Oliver. “Salaam.”
“You speak Arabic?” Oliver sounded more than a little surprised.
“Probably just the one word he heard on a television show,” Justin said, getting the first shot in.
“Not quite.” Finn nodded in greeting to some of the men and women bustling around him before turning back to Oliver. “Being multilingual is a requirement of the job, though I admit it’s a work in progress.”
There was that fucking smile again. It made Justin want to punch the guy.
Oliver nodded. “Impressive.”
No way was Justin admitting even that much. “Not really.”
“I agree. It’s the least I can do.” Finn spared Justin a quick glance then held out his hand to Oliver. “Finn Drummond.”
“Oliver Jacobsen.”
The smiles, the greetings…Justin hated all of it. Seeing his usually hardworking staff and volunteers roaming around carrying what looked like empty boxes and pretending to work just to get a peek at the hot rich boy pissed Justin off. He understood being curious about the big boss, the billionaire who could afford to fly in for a one-day meeting then out again, but Finn was not that boss.
Without another word, Justin turned and walked into the tent. He motioned for the few people in there who hadn’t gone to lunch to give them some privacy. That’s all it took to send them scurrying.
He heard the footsteps behind him and didn’t stop until he stood on his side of his desk. The early-spring sun beamed through the open window flap behind him but Justin didn’t really care about the weather. “I call with
a serious problem and the company sends me the baby brother in response? I was hoping Alec would take me seriously and get his butt out here.”
Finn sighed. “I see you haven’t changed much since we last saw each other, or since we first met, actually.”
“You mean how I’m still working my ass off for your family? Yeah.” Justin gestured toward the stacks of paperwork covering his desktop.
That time Finn nodded. “Still a bit of a dick, too.”
Oliver laughed. “So, you do know Justin.”
“Please, continue being an asshole.” Finn crossed his arms over his chest as his voice rang out clear and deep. “Don’t let me stop you.”
The sure way the guy moved mesmerized Justin. No shifting or gawking. He somehow blended in with the dirt and dust, never showing a hint of worry about the potential for violence pulsing all around him. He knew what to say and how to say it. Everything about him was a bit too practiced and perfect for Justin’s taste.
Worse, he was a serious liability. Grabbing him could result in big money for kidnappers. Justin knew all about that. Thanks to his work in the region, he’d met with a parade of wealthy businessmen, some well-meaning and some looking for a photo op, and all offering aid. Those events tended to get a lot of public relations attention, which threatened the safety and well-being of everyone who worked at the complex and of those who depended on its services.
The last big spender visited the area four months ago. He came with a camera crew and proposed a plan to set up another complex nearby and fund it. The meeting turned into a nightmare when armed attackers tried to storm the gates of the complex. Two of Justin’s security people were killed in the battle. Through a haze of anger and frustration, Justin had called Alec and said that he was done sucking up to business types for more aid.
Yet, there stood Finn, all tall and lean and breath-stopping hot. Completely oblivious to the harm that could come to him.
Justin needed him to leave. The tent. The country. Preferably, the continent.
“Look, I’m sure you mean well, but this is a real problem that requires a measure of confidentiality and some tact, a great deal of resources and someone with…” He made the mistake of letting his gaze travel all over Finn, taking in every muscle outlined by his navy shirt. The hint of strength in his long fingers and that practical black-band watch on his wrist. “Let’s call it leadership qualities.”
Oliver whistled. “Bloody hell, man.”
Usually his second-in-command went with a subtle steering of the conversation. Today, Oliver was dropping direct hits. Justin got it. He should pull back. He searched his brain for the right words, but all he could grab onto was a churning mix of misplaced anger and unwanted need.
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “You think me flying to Morocco shows a lack of interest in your concerns?”
“I think your big brother Alec isn’t taking me seriously.” Justin grabbed onto that thought. Forget that his breath stuttered in his chest and his brain was racing to imprint this new image of Finn. He needed Alec’s position and strength right now, not Finn.
Finn’s expression didn’t change. The narrow-eyed, you-are-right-on-the-edge-of-getting-your-ass-fired glare continued. “You do know I’m a partner in Drummond Enterprises, which includes Drummond Charities, right?”
Big fucking deal. “And just how many brothers does it take to make a decision?”
Finn shrugged. “It depends on the decision.”
A smartass answer. Pretty boy didn’t slink away and call his big brother for backup. Justin hated how much he admired that.
But that didn’t mean he could afford to let Finn stay. Justin would lose his fucking mind trying to keep his hands locked at his sides and his mind on the job with Finn around. “I’m betting one, in particular, is needed and that brother didn’t bother to come here. He sent you instead.”
Finn glanced over at Oliver and nodded in Justin’s direction. “You work with him every day?”
Oliver smiled again. “For four years.”
“You need a raise.”
That wasn’t wrong. Justin had handpicked Oliver. Had stolen the Oxford-educated son of some guy with a big title and an even bigger house away from another charity and never looked back. Justin knew people found him difficult. He barked because sometimes he had to, but Oliver never flinched. Oliver had tact and a seemingly infinite amount of patience.
Justin looked from Oliver to Finn. Finn was taller and had a more muscled build. Right now the two were friendly and teaming up, and that ticked Justin off even more.
He put his hands on the back of his chair. Wrapped his fingers around the top and dug his fingernails into the faux leather cushion. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Why don’t you explain what ‘this’ is. Feel free to use small words if you think I won’t understand full sentences.” Finn hitched his thumb toward the door. “Or I can get back on a plane and get the hell out of here, if you prefer. Report back to Griff and Alec—the brothers you seem to admire more than me—that this mission can’t be salvaged and it’s time to move on.”
The fucker. “You’d do that? Sacrifice these people and ride away on your private plane back to your fancy house?”
Finn moved closer to the edge on his side of the desk. “Is the way I traveled here an issue for you, too?”
“The people out there are desperate. They don’t have anything.”
Finn nodded. “I’m aware of that.”
The charity’s complex sat on the edge of no-man’s-land, a strip of land between Morocco and the twenty-foot fence complete with barbed wire that separated Morocco from Ceuta, a Spanish enclave and Spain’s property, on the northernmost tip of North Africa.
Ceuta didn’t even qualify as a political football. Spain claimed it, Europe backed Spain and Morocco protested often but to no avail. All of that caused enough tension. Add in the prime location—as a gateway into Europe—and the result was a flow of people who needed assistance.
That’s where Justin and Drummond Charities stepped in. Morocco refused to allow refugee settlements so close to the border with Ceuta. Thanks to maneuvering, the details of which Justin did not know, the charity was given permission to provide temporary housing and assistance so long as the individuals and families were relocated within a specific amount of time.
Complying with those regulations while ensuring the safety of everyone in the charity’s care during this transition time fell to Justin and his staff. He kept meticulous records, refusing to give anyone in power a reason to remove the charity from the country. But he couldn’t do his job if someone was trying to undermine him.
Justin’s grip on the chair made his palms ache, but he didn’t ease up. “Then you should also know they’ve been taking turns storming that big fence, hoping Spain, the country on the other side of the boundary, will grant them asylum.”
Finn stared at him with a no-shit expression. “I’m aware of the political history of Ceuta.”
“I’m guessing from a damn book or the news.” It was not the same thing and Justin knew that. “Or did you take a class in prep school?”
Finn shifted his weight and all emotion left his face except for a stark anger that radiated off him. “You might want to remember I’m your boss.”
Of course he went there. Justin refused to be intimidated. ‘ “Bullshit.”
Oliver winced. “Actually…”
“You might not like it but I am the Drummond brother who is here to help you. You have my attention and only my attention, and that’s waning.” Finn pounded his fist against the desk. Nothing in the stiffness of his shoulders or the sharp crack of his voice suggested he was young or inexperienced or out of his league. He spoke and the air seeped out of the tent.
Tension pummeled Justin from every corner. But this was about self-preservation. Keeping focused on t
he work and getting through this pissing match. “For how long?”
“Days. Weeks.” Finn shrugged. “No idea. It depends on the scope of the issue and how quickly and efficiently we can resolve it.”
Weeks? “What do you think you’ll be doing here exactly?”
Finn actually rolled his eyes. “Listening to your unending bitching, apparently.”
Score another one for the pretty boy. “This isn’t a playground.”
“You really need to work on your attitude.”
“You didn’t hire me for my attitude.” Finn didn’t hire him at all. When they met the first time, Finn had been fresh out of college, dating a pretty blond woman and looking like he’d rolled out of a clothing ad. “And, believe it or not, I’m not interested in impressing you.”
“Good, because you suck at it.”
Oliver glanced at Justin. “You have to admire his spirit. People rarely take you on.”
Justin kept his attention centered on Finn. “Look, fine. You’re the one here representing the company. I get that. Alec and I can work that disagreement out later, but—”
“No.” Finn shook his head.
What the fuck? “Excuse me?”
“Running to my big brother is the one thing guaranteed to piss me off. I would advise against doing that.”
Justin wasn’t used to having people try to back him down. He was the one who issued orders and they were followed without question. “You’re kidding, right?”
“As enjoyable as this is, I have groundwork to do.” When Justin opened his mouth, Finn just continued talking. Spoke right over him. “I’m going to visit with the head of Moroccan security forces for the area. Then I’ll go through the gate on that twenty-foot-high fence and speak with the head of the Spanish civil guard, then finish the rounds by talking with the Mayor-President of Ceuta.”
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