Adam

by Irish Winters

  Alex interrupted calmly. “I questioned your father when he insisted on the HALO jump. That’s an extreme request in our line of business; one we don’t take lightly. He also insisted this be a one-man mission. At that time, I chalked it up to the whims of an eccentric inventor, but given the way everything turned out, I no longer believe that to be so. I stand by my agent. Adam was set up.”

  Hostility radiated in waves off the angry man at her right. Shannon didn’t need to look at Adam to see its intensity. She didn’t dare.

  “And to answer your question, Shannon...” Mark Houston nodded to Adam, now pushed farther from the table, his arms folded over his chest. “Adam was seriously hurt during the altercation. Whoever intercepted him left him to die. If he hadn’t activated his distress beacon, we’d be at Arlington today instead of sitting here.”

  “And…” David Tao spoke up, “you need to understand that Adam is hands down the best HALO jumper in the country. We’re lucky he works for us.”

  Harley nodded. “He’s got more guts than me, I’ll give him that. I hate jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.”

  He almost made her smile with that gentle twang. Shannon glanced at Adam, but he’d purposely turned his chair toward the opposite end of the table. It was hard not to notice the jut of a proud man’s chin. His tongue traced his bottom lip, drawing her eyes to his mouth. He was so angry, but those lips.

  Her heart stuttered at the fierce but glorious profile. If she were brave, she’d grab hold of that tight muscular forearm and give it a friendly squeeze to let Adam know she held no hard feelings. That she was only there to help. But she didn’t. He looked so angry.

  Shannon swallowed hard and tried to breach the barrier between them. “I had no idea you were hurt,” she admitted quietly. “Where were you shot?”

  Her genuine concern fell flat. His clenched jaw told her he wasn’t sharing that personal information. Not with her.

  “Who... who do you think did it?” she asked, ashamed for her part in this charade.

  “We’re investigating,” Alex said, “but that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

  Her mouth had suddenly gone drier, if that was possible. She had a message to deliver from the man who it seemed had set this in motion. Paul Reagan expected an answer when she returned, only it seemed wrong to ask.

  Alex leaned forward, his palms flat on the table, his long, slender fingers strumming, but not out of nervousness. More from pent-up energy. “You may not know this, but I’ve already received your father’s demand for damages this morning. To be perfectly honest, I expected him to come in person, since he requested this meeting. I’m surprised he sent you to fight this battle for him. By rights, our attorneys should be having this discussion, not us. Once again, he misled me.”

  Shannon should’ve felt defensive or outraged at that carefully crafted jab at her father, but she didn’t. Alex had accurately pegged Paul Reagan. She swallowed hard. “He, umm, has an offer for you.”

  Alex’s eyebrows spiked. “An offer? His written demand stated very clearly that he wants five million in replacement damages for the drone and another five in punitive. I don’t call that much of an offer, considering it was my agent who was shot and left for dead.”

  Shannon honestly didn’t know those details either, but there she was, trying to hold her father’s business together like the good little simpleton he must’ve thought she was. She pressed forward, needing to save her reputation if nothing else. Pulling another contract from her folder, she slid it over the polished tabletop toward Alex. “He will forgo the aforementioned settlement on one condition.”

  Alex took the single sheet, his signature block already typed and dated in advance. God, her father was arrogant to assume Alex would snap to at his command.

  He barely skimmed the document before he handed it off to Mark at his left. “Why would I do that?” he asked her, his blue eyes drilling through what was left of her confidence. “To be brutally honest, Paul Reagan hasn’t been straight with me since day one. I don’t trust him. Give me one good reason why I should agree to this offer.”

  Why indeed. He hasn’t been straight with me, either.

  “Please. Call me Shannon” was all she could think to say. At least, she’d be on a first-name basis with Mr. Stewart if no one else. Ah, Alex. But damn, she couldn’t come up with any reason why he should enter into another agreement with Reagan Industries. He had nothing to prove, but her father had some explaining to do.

  “Shannon.” Alex leaned forward, his fingers interlocked up to their knuckles, and damn, this guy was drop-dead gorgeous in an older-man kind of way. He had to be in his mid-thirties. “Do you know what’s in that contract you just handed me to sign?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. That was the only thing she’d made sure she understood before coming there. It seemed simple to her. Apparently, Alex thought otherwise.

  “Do you? Because you’re asking me to provide a two-man security team to transport four more prototypes to Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam within two days. What assurance can you offer that this operation won’t end the same as the South Dakota op?”

  Oh, for a bottle of glacier-fed spring water! Her tongue was parched all the way to her toes. She made the only bargain she could think of to get this second-chance contract off the ground and signed, and to prove her good faith. “Because I’ll accompany the prototypes to Hawaii with whomever you decide to send.”

  Alex studied her, his eyes hard and calculating. He could’ve cut multi-faceted diamonds with that look. David Tao slid an unopened bottle of water across the table to her. Nodding her thanks, she unscrewed the plastic cap and took a sip before she could face Alex. He looked unyielding, his expression indecipherable. It took all of her willpower to lift the bottle to her lips and take a sip, her hands shook so hard.

  There was no way for her to add any more incentives to what she recognized as a blatant attempt at blackmail. Really, Father? Get this man to sign up for more abuse, or you’ll sue him?

  She wished she’d known all the facts before she’d agreed to attend this meeting. Oh, wait. I didn’t agree. I got railroaded, and now Mr. Stewart’s getting railroaded, too.

  Alex didn’t blink. She gulped, sure he wouldn’t accept. He shouldn’t. By the looks of this place, he made good money. He had to also employ a good attorney. Besides, he was right. She had no business speaking with him, much less threatening him with this stupid contract.

  “I’ll do it.” Adam’s sudden response came out of nowhere. “It’s my fault, Boss. Send me. I’ll finish this.”

  “None of this mess is your fault,” Harley muttered, his hands flat to the table but his eyes on Shannon, “and we need to discuss this latest contract before we sign anything else with this Reagan guy. I don’t like it.”

  It seemed the world stopped turning while everyone waited on Alex. Shannon nearly cringed, sure he’ would toss her out the door, and her father’s idea of a viable contract with her. He should have, but he didn’t. Alex took the document from Mark’s hand while Harley shook his head and growled in quiet protest. With a quick scrawl from the silver pen he’d taken from his pocket, Alex signed the contract, obligating himself and his company to ensure that four more drones would be safely delivered to Joint Base Hickam.

  Shannon breathed a sigh of relief, certain that she could make this one thing happen if it was the last thing she did. Delivering drones wasn’t in her repertoire of job responsibilities, but she’d seen the fire in Adam’s eyes when he’d said it was his fault. Junior Agent Torrey was a man of pride and honor. Well, she was honorable, too.

  At last, Alex said, “You do realize that your verbal offer is not part of this written contract, Shannon.”

  She cringed. He was right. His signature only obligated him. Not her. Shannon extended her hand in a simple gesture of good faith. This man had to know he could trust a Reagan, and she meant it to be her. “You have my word. I’ll go to Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam with whomever
you decide to send. I’ll make certain this operation goes smoothly.”

  Please say yes…

  Icy blue lasers skewered her clean, clear through. “I believe you will. Fine. It’s a deal,” he said calmly, releasing her grip after a good, solid shake.

  “Thank you, Mr. Stewart, ah, I mean Alex.” I’m never going to get that right.

  Shannon stuffed her folder into her briefcase, her hands visibly shaking, her knees the same. She needed to get out of that Sit Room before she totally fell apart. “I’ll be on the tarmac at Andrews Air Force Base the day after tomorrow. Good day.”

  But then Alex made it worse. “Adam, would you please see Shannon out?”

  Chapter Four

  “Ma’am.” Agent Torrey held the Sit Room door open while Shannon took her leave. She felt like running to the elevator; it was such a relief to get out of there. She’d never been so intimidated in her life, but satisfied, too. She had made the deal, and it was a good deal.

  Alex had signed her father’s contract. He might not like that she’d volunteered to accompany the drones, but that’s what trusted assistants did. They made tough decisions and they got the job done. This way, Alex would get what he wanted, too. In a couple days, she’d be on the sandy beaches of Hawaii and this distasteful business would be far behind her.

  She stumbled, suddenly dizzy, her head buzzing. Agent Torrey ’s hand cupped her elbow and held her steady, but she flattened her palm to the wall anyway. He didn’t really want to touch her. She could tell. A swirl of blackness enveloped the hallway. Shannon lowered her head, waiting for it to pass. Great. My big break and I faint. Breathe. Just breathe.

  “Are you okay?” Agent Torrey almost sounded concerned. Yeah, right. Good deal or not, he pretty much still hated her and her father. “Can I get you anything? Another bottle of water?”

  “No,” she answered quickly, determined not to embarrass herself more than she already had. Alex Stewart had seen right through her. All of them had. She was nothing more than a pawn in this wheeling-and-dealing business world, her, a literary scholar with not one shred of negotiating skill. If she’d had any sense, she would’ve told her father to jump in the lake when he’d coerced her into accepting this devious mission. She should have.

  “I’m fine.” Shannon squeezed her eyes tightly shut and gathered her wits, intent on making it to the solitude of the elevator before she did something more stupid, like pass out. Agent Torrey ’s grip tightened on her elbow anyway. She took a shaky step forward, and focused on escape. Air. I just need air.

  He didn’t say another word, but neither did he release her. Finally, at the elevator, he let go long enough to press the ground floor button, but he didn’t go far. Oh no. Her silent sentinel waited at her side. It was an awkward distance for the man she’d all but accused of intentionally losing the Hummingbird. Not her best move.

  She kept her face forward and her mouth closed until the elevator pinged, and its doors slid quietly open. “Thank you. It’s been nice meeting you,” she said, putting as much genuine courtesy into the goodbye in lieu of the relief she felt.

  “It’s been nice meeting you, too.” His hand moved from her elbow to the small of her back. “I assume you have a chauffeur waiting for you at ground level?”

  “Yes.” What he really meant was, ‘Don’t all daddy’s girls have a chauffeur?’ “You don’t need to accompany me. I’ll be fine.”

  “No problem.”

  Damn. He stepped into the elevator and to her side.

  “I’m serious. Raul’s waiting for me. You don’t need to follow me.”

  “I’m serious, too. You’re my guest until you’re safely in your limo.”

  Just great. She gulped, still feeling dizzy and a little queasy too, definitely not a good combination in the presence of a handsome guy with an attitude. She had to give Agent Torrey that. He might hate her guts, but he still maintained a polite demeanor. And he really was to-die-for handsome. She couldn’t help but notice.

  This big, tough guy had laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, and gentleness in his manly grip. When his big hand had all but enveloped hers in that one handshake, some odd sensation resonated deep within. An ember flamed to life. She ignored it, hoping all those odd feelings would go away before they gave her something to believe in. She’d had enough of fairy tales.

  The ride to ground level was short, but vertigo hit when the doors opened. All four walls spun. The entire lobby tilted sharply to one side. She leaned her palm to the edge of the door and took one shaky step forward, determined to get as far away from Agent Torrey as she could.

  No such luck. The dizzy sensation intensified. Another very unwelcome feverish wave washed over her. Her stomach lurched. Shannon groaned to the depths of her very embarrassed soul. Not here. Please. Not now.

  Too late. She doubled over, her hand to her poor stomach, projectile vomit on its way. Agent Torrey jumped back, but in the middle of retching, and crying from embarrassment, she also noticed one of his wide palms rested gentle at the small of her back, his other lifting her long hair away from the mess she seemed unable to stop spewing.

  Earth, please swallow me up. Make it stop. Let me die.

  “I’m... I’m...” Tears rolled over her cheeks. They had to be crimson by now; they were hot enough. Words got stuck within more ragged retching. She stopped trying to speak. Doubled over and throwing up like she was, she could barely catch her breath anyway.

  “It’s okay,” he said soothingly.

  She coughed, her throat burned and sore from the abhorrent exercise of purging. At long last, her stomach settled. The retching ceased. She could stand, but she couldn’t face Agent Torrey. Not only had she thrown up in front of him, but she’d planted her butt against his muscular thigh for balance instead of the elevator wall. Would this awful day never end?

  “Ember.” Somehow he’d managed to call his office while he still held a handful of her hair in a ponytail. “Clean up in the lobby. Tell the janitor to bring a bucket.” He paused. “Yeah. Something like that.” He hung up and slid his phone into his jeans pocket. That was another thing. Why did he look so good in denim while she looked utterly pitiful in Jimmy Choo heels?

  She straightened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and burning with humiliation. “Sorry,” she squeaked. Sorry was such a worthless word. Somehow it didn’t begin to encompass ‘mortified,’ ‘embarrassed to death,’ or ‘I suck’ like it should’ve.

  “Don’t worry about it. Everyone gets sick. It’s no big deal.” He sounded so gallant as he released her hair finally with one last stroke to make sure it stayed clear of her face.

  Yeah, but not everyone throws up in front of a handsome guy who thinks they’re a pain in the neck. She cringed, wishing she were home, showered, and smelling better.

  “Hey.” He peered into her face, but she didn’t look up. From out of nowhere, he offered a tissue, which she promptly used to wipe her mouth and blow her nose. “You’re still a little green. Let’s sit down while we wait.” He motioned her to the stone bench beneath the American flag, the absolute last place she wanted to be with a good-looking guy and the reek of vomit in the air.

  “No. No, thanks.” She glanced out the spotless glass windows, looking nervously for Raul. “My driver. He’s waiting for me.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Agent Torrey sounded genuinely concerned, his hand still warmly capped on her shoulder.

  She nodded. Never been so sure about anything in my whole life.

  But his grip told her he wasn’t going anywhere, which was a pretty good thing. He might not like her, but she needed help walking to the limo that had just pulled alongside the curb. Finally! Raul was there. He scurried to the front door, reaching for her arm as she all but stumbled onto the sidewalk with Agent Torrey still holding her steady. “Miss Reagan! What did they do to you?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine. Honest,” she reassured him, focused on getting inside that limo before she made a
bigger fool of herself.

  Raul held the door while Agent Torrey assisted her wobbly procession to the limo. Darned if he didn’t pull her snug into his side at the curb. The rock-solid feel of his hip and thigh didn’t go unnoticed. Neither did that manly fragrance of Old Spice, a very pleasant change from what she smelled like.

  Shannon ducked her head and climbed in, ready to put this humiliating day behind her. Leaning back on the buttery soft leather upholstery, she finally faced the junior agent who her father claimed had bungled his operation. Wrong move. A tender gaze skated over her ugly, red, sweaty face.

  Agent Torrey ducked his head and shoulders through the limo’s doorway, and she thought for a split second he might hug her. She sure needed one. Instead, he stuffed more tissues into her trembling hands and winked. The angry man was gone. “Are you sure you’ll be up for a fifteen-hour flight the day after tomorrow?”

  All that Old Spice entered the limo with him. Afraid she’d burst into tears, she offered up a resolute, “I’ll be there. You’ll see.”

  What is it about throwing up that always makes me cry?

  He actually smiled. It wasn’t more than a tug at the corner of his lips, but it was enough that butterflies swarmed in her stupid, nauseous stomach. She clamped a palm over her poor belly before they decided to fly out of her mouth, too.

  “Ember will call you to coordinate the flight plans. See you then,” he said as he shut her door, and stood back on the edge of the curb.

  Shannon breathed a sigh of relief as Raul pulled away, but like the traitors they were, her eyes skated over her departing view of the agent she’d never be on a first name basis with. He’d turned to his building. Broad, muscular shoulders. Tight backside. Long legs. Check, check, and triple check.

  Mortified, she sunk deeper into her seat as the limo left Agent Torrey behind. Her stomach had settled down, but she needed a bottle of industrial-strength anti-nausea medicine before she boarded that Air Force transport in two days. She would not be embarrassed like this again.