Rough & Tumble (The Haven Brotherhood)

by Rhenna Morgan

“Mr. Kennedy—”

  “You keep calling me Mr. Kennedy, I’ll have to paddle your ass.” He guided her out of the streaming traffic and off to one side of the entrance, the clasp of his hand around her upper arm firm, but gentle.

  “Okay, yes, you upset me.” She tried to pull her arm free while struggling to keep up with his long strides. “I’m here for business. You can’t say things like that and expect me not to get flustered.”

  Jace stopped and faced her, keeping his grip on her arm.

  “You should go back to work. I’ll think about your offer, but I’m not sure I’m the best person for this job.”

  He stepped closer. “I can’t get back to work yet. I’m not done with you.”

  “I thought we covered everything.”

  “Not quite.” His other hand came up and curled around the back of her neck, his thumb teasing the space just behind her ear.

  She tried to step back, but the effort was half-hearted, every single nerve ending straining toward him with a magnetic pull. “Mr. Kennedy.”

  His fingers behind her neck tightened and he growled.

  “Jace,” she corrected, though it came out as more of a moan. “I told you, I don’t like to mix personal affairs with business.”

  He lowered his head, and his fingers speared deep into her tightly bound hair. His lips whispered against hers a second before full contact. “I haven’t hired you yet.”

  Oh, man. Those lips weren’t as good as they looked, they were better. The kind a woman would give up a lot for. Firm and skilled, slanting against hers until she gave way and surrendered.

  His tongue swept in, as bold and unforgiving as the man holding her in place, wiping away resistance and thought with each decadent thrust.

  Giggles and the ever-present hum of music and excitement buzzed around her. A dim part of her tried to point out they were in public, but most of her just held on for the ride, savoring the hard, hot muscles beneath her palms and soaking up every sensation.

  “I see my man’s knife didn’t put you down long.”

  Viv opened her eyes to spinning lights and colors, her body thrust behind Jace as four bouncers rushed to either side of Jace.

  Jace’s voice cut low and sharp through the crowd. “You’ve got a death wish comin’ in here tonight, Hugo.”

  She might have thought Jace was intense before, but she was wrong. Horribly wrong. The cold glare he aimed at the man in the black suit across from him would send most people running, her included.

  “Thought we’d made it clear,” Jace said. “You’re out. Otto’s in.”

  Roughly thirty feet away, three burly men in riding leathers and MC cuts stalked toward them with Axel leading the way.

  Jace aimed a comment to the bouncer who’d stopped her on the way out. “Get Ms. Moore to her car.”

  The brute gripped her arm in a far less gentle clasp than Jace’s and nearly dragged her to the entrance. Hugo’s sinister chuckle trailed them on the way, cut short when the metal door slammed behind them. Only once she’d deactivated the alarm on her car and started to slide into the driver’s seat did the brute relinquish his grip. Even then, he stood with arms crossed, waiting and watching until she backed out.

  Her palms slipped against the leather steering wheel, and her throat was so dry she could barely swallow. She exited the parking lot and glanced in the rearview mirror.

  The brute was still there, watching.

  In the passenger seat, Jace’s folder peeked from the top of her briefcase.

  See? This was why she’d be an idiot to take this job. This life, Jace Kennedy, and everything that went with men like him was bad news. Exactly the kind of trouble she’d fought so hard to escape. There had to be another way to save her business. First thing in the morning, she’d start figuring out how.

  Chapter 6

  Morning sunlight haloed the stretch of three-story townhouses in front of Jace. Slow but sure, the light burned away the lingering fog from another humid January night. He’d backed his pimped-out Midnight Edition Silverado into an empty covered parking spot behind Viv’s alley, but the thing still stood out amid all the gold and silver foreign sedans. Not exactly his best choice for casing a residence.

  Four days he’d waited for her to call and take the job. Four fucking days and his dick still got hard if she so much as registered as a blip in his head. Hell, he’d nearly drowned himself in Scotch the last three nights, trying to forget the way her taste had lingered on his tongue, and all that had done was drag his thoughts toward imagining how her pussy would taste.

  His phone vibrated inside the pocket of his leather jacket.

  Jace dug it out and punched the answer button beneath Knox’s name and number. “Yeah.”

  The brotherhood’s hacker and cyber genius sounded like he’d knocked back a whole lot more coffee than Jace. “Well, a chipper good morning to you, too.”

  “Didn’t get out of Crossroads last night until 3:00 a.m. and I’ve been watching Viv’s place since seven. Not a lot of room between the two to get as psyched as you.”

  “She gone yet?”

  “Nope. Lights came on about an hour ago. I’m hoping she’s out soon so I can get some shut-eye.”

  Muted, rapid-fire taps of Knox’s fingers on the keyboard pattered in the background. “You sure you’re up for this, old man? Been a long time since you swept a house.”

  Yeah, it’d been a long time. Like back when the brotherhood had just been him, Axel, their wits and a whole lot of balls. “Sure as hell not letting anyone else in Viv’s place.”

  Quiet settled on the line, even Knox’s lickety-split key taps falling silent. “Rules are rules, brother. We made a pact. Anyone close to the brotherhood’s information gets a sweep. It’s either that or risk exposure. You want this woman on the short list, then she gets a once-over like everyone else.”

  “Not balkin’ on the rules.” Actually, he was. He just wasn’t saying it out loud. “I don’t want a stranger in her house and their hands on her shit. Business or not, she’s a woman, and we keep them safe.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Something thunked in the background, probably one of Knox’s monster coffee cups he kept filled to the brim from 5:00 a.m. until noon. “Didn’t see you volunteering when we brought Shelly in as office manager at Crossroads.”

  “Didn’t care what you found in Shelly’s house, or if you went through her panty drawer fifteen times.”

  “I didn’t check fifteen times.”

  “No, but you did check, am I right?”

  All Jace got in the way of an answer with a rumbling chuckle. “You ready to run this sweep or not?”

  Not really. If it was strictly work, he could justify it like all the other jobs, but this one reeked of violation. He snatched his earpiece and slipped it into place. “Yeah. I’m going in without you live, though. I get into a situation, I’ll call for backup.”

  On cue, Vivienne’s garage door lifted and Jace edged a little deeper in his seat. Not that she’d be able to see him from his spot across the alley.

  “So how deep are we going on background?” Knox said.

  Jace tossed his mangled toothpick out the window and rummaged for a fresh one in his pocket. “Everything you can find out. She’s got an event planning company called Amaryllis Events. Lives on Clark Street in Uptown. I wanna know where she came from, where she went to school, and anything from her history that stands out.”

  “So a B and E gives you the willies, but a background check you’re good with, huh?”

  “Anyone could run a background check.”

  Knox scoffed. “Not like I do.”

  On that point, he was absolutely right. How Knox tapped the sources he did still rocked Jace’s head.

  Viv hustled out the back door of her townhouse and around her cute little silver hybrid. Wherever she was headed, it was
all business. Her hair was back up in that tight twist, and her dove-gray suit fit every curve in a way guaranteed to close whatever deal she’d set out to nab.

  He clenched his fist, his palms burning with the need to slide his hands up and around those hips.

  “Jace?”

  “Yeah. She’s just leaving. Listen, keep this shit tight, Knox. I get all the info first. When I want it out with everyone else, I’ll share it at rally. If she even takes the job. We clear?”

  Knox hesitated a beat, obviously uneasy keeping anything from the rest of the brothers. “Yeah, we’re clear.”

  “Good. And the sooner I get the results the better.”

  “Patience never was your strong suit. Anything else?”

  Backing out of the garage, Viv punched the garage control and the door hummed closed.

  “Just keep your phone handy. I don’t have a clue when she’ll be back.”

  Knox chuckled low in his throat, muted clinks and running water in the background indicating he’d postponed any deeper dives until he got another java fix. “You’re a crazy fuck. Aren’t you the one who always says to make damned sure you know what you’re getting into before you dive?”

  “She’s five-three and can’t weigh more than a buck-thirty. I think I can handle it.”

  “Have fun. I’ll call when I’ve got something.” Knox clicked off and Jace thumbed through the rest of his contacts.

  Three rings later, Danny picked up, his laid-back voice sounding like he’d been up all night. “Mornin’, boss.”

  “You’re sounding pretty slow.”

  “Just got off a thing for Beck. Overnight security for some bigwig I’d never heard of while Beck ran a different gig. You need something?”

  Another benefit to Danny joining up with their group. Finding quality muscle for Beckett’s security and investigations business was a bitch, and Danny was a bulldozer in any head-to-head.

  “Just info.” Jace snatched the bag of liver treats from the passenger’s seat and started loading up his pocket. “The woman you helped on New Year’s Eve, Vivienne Moore, you said she had a guard dog?”

  “Yep. Called him Ruger. Great pup.”

  “How’d he react to you?”

  “Great after she called him off.”

  Perfect. The one time he needed Danny to get chatty and the guy had to get tight-lipped. “Give me the commands. Plus any codes she used if she had a security system.”

  Quiet stretched through the connection.

  “I know you, Danny. A man who made his living getting in and out of swanky houses the way you did before we found you marks those details whether they mean to use ’em or not. Now I need them.”

  “She’s a really nice lady, boss.”

  Well, hell. Looked like Little Miss had more protectors than she realized. “Nothing’s gonna happen to her. You’ve got my word. All I need is info, and I need inside to get it.”

  Another second or two of hesitation and a handful of gruff answers later, Jace was off the phone and strolling across the alley to Viv’s garage. Breaking and entering in broad daylight was almost as stupid as him not tracking her movements for a day to two before, but he’d done worse. The nondescript gray sweats and baseball cap would do enough to throw most off his trail at least.

  Everything around him was silent, folks out for a jog or walking their dogs long gone for work. So long as it all stayed that way for six seconds he’d be fine.

  He wedged a plastic doorstop between the top of the garage door and the frame, slid a six-foot wire tool between the gap, snagged the garage door release, and the manual release snapped free. Five more seconds and he was inside with the garage shut behind him and the power door reengaged. Kinda like riding a bike.

  Claws clicked on tile behind the door to the house followed by a happy whimper.

  Might as well get the hard part over with. Given Danny said she didn’t use her security system, he wouldn’t have that hassle, but getting past the dog would be sheer fucking luck. He pinched a few liver treats from his pockets, held his ground by the door, and pushed the unlocked door open.

  Ruger stood alert, ears sharp, legs braced and ready.

  Damn. Danny had been right to be impressed. Jace loved dogs, and this one was a Class-A specimen with intelligent eyes and a shiny black coat. He also looked ready to sink his fangs into Jace if he moved a wrong toe.

  Ruger scented the air, cocked his head and barked.

  “Leicht, Ruger.” Easy. Jace slowly lifted the treat between his fingers so the dog could see it. If he’d had more faith he wouldn’t end up a man-size dog treat, he’d have laughed out loud at the situation. German commands—who’d have thought it? If he wasn’t so pissed about how easy he’d gotten in the place, he’d say Viv was a genius. “Sitzen.” Sit.

  Ruger eyeballed the treat, sniffed again, and eased to his butt.

  “Gut boy.” He eased forward, offering his empty hand first. “Freund.” Friend.

  The dog responded just like Danny said he had on New Year’s Eve, checking Jace over scentwise and then nuzzling his hand for attention.

  Jace handed over the treat and scratched behind his ears. “Viv’s got good taste, yeah, boy?”

  Ruger wiggled his stub-tail behind so hard his whole body shook.

  “All right then, you gonna help me check things out, or make me work for it?”

  The dog shifted and nuzzled the pocket with the rest of the treats.

  “Smart boy.” He grabbed another treat and held it out. “What’s say we get this done so I can bail before I’m in hot water.”

  He worked through the main floor as fast as he dared with Ruger on his heels. The downstairs held a simple layout, a contemporary kitchen with lots of stainless steel and neutral stonework. It opened to a vaulted living room with bamboo floors and tan walls. The furniture didn’t vary much from the earth tone, straight-line vibe, and not one single thing was out of place. Hell, the space looked more like a showplace than an actual home.

  At the top of the stairs, he found the master suite. It wasn’t nearly as sterile as the main floor, though it was still mighty tame. Soft blue-gray walls and white trim gave the place an airy look, and the bedspread was one-hundred percent girl with frilly stuff lining the edges. The only thing that surprised him was the kick-ass chandelier hanging from the center of the room, tiny shells dangling at all different heights in a way that made him think of wind chimes.

  He strolled into her walk-in closet. Neatly organized suits and shirts lined both sides, pants, jackets, shoes—everything in its proper spot. He turned to head back out and a splash of color caught his eye. Relegated to one small section were three or four pairs of well-worn jeans and colorful tanks and T-shirts. Nowhere near the kind of stuff her sister had worn, but still out of place among all the rest.

  Her dresser boasted the same damned thing, everything nice, neat and drab except for one drawer at the bottom. He crouched down for a better look and fingered a red lacy thong. And here he’d given Knox a hard time about raiding Shelly’s panty drawer. In the span of ten seconds, his mind conjured half a dozen scenarios of him pulling any one of the lacy confections off her luscious body.

  Across the hall, he opened another door and almost staggered back a step. So, this was the flower child room. The walls were painted a deep purple and some kind of wispy fabric was draped around the double beam in the center for a gypsy tent look. Little white Christmas lights dangled in a haphazard pattern in one corner, and in the other was a makeshift table that hung from the ceiling with rattan rope. Christ, she even had a lava lamp.

  Why? Over and over again, the simple question pounded him. If she liked color and bohemian styles so much, why keep it all contained and relegated to tiny corners of her life?

  Outside a car door slammed and muted laughter registered through the closed windows.

&n
bsp; Jace peeked through the plantation shutters but couldn’t register anyone near either entrance. Beside him, Ruger happily waited, gaze locked on the pocket with the treats. If it’d been Vivienne, Ruger would’ve been long gone by now, treats or not.

  He pulled the door to the flower child room shut. To his right was another set of stairs leading to a third story. To his left, the stairs down to the main floor. Twenty minutes he’d checked the place with not a thing to show for it except more questions.

  Ah, to hell with it. He’d come this far, and she had to have a computer somewhere. He jogged up the stairs and found a tiny ten-by-ten alcove with a wide window overlooking downtown Dallas. The rest of the house might have been tidy, but up here it was chaos central. Colorful Post-its, papers, flyers. Every bit of it was out in the open. A simple computer desk sat in the center of the room with a big-screen computer in the middle.

  Jace settled behind the desk and picked up the legal-sized form in the center.

  Mortgage Refinance Application Form.

  The date in the corner showed two days ago.

  He wiggled the mouse and the monitor came to life and went straight to desktop, no password of any kind. A quick check of her calendar showed an appointment at nine o’clock this morning with her banker—and absolutely nothing else through the rest of the month.

  Carefully rifling through the rest of the paperwork on her desk, he found a bank statement, the balance nowhere near where a woman with this kind of property in Uptown Dallas would need to keep from defaulting, which more than explained the refi paperwork. A quick check of her finance software and the rest of her calendar confirmed it—Vivienne Moore needed money and she needed it now.

  Interesting. As sterile as most of it was, she obviously took pride in her home. Maybe if he found a way to fill her calendar outside of the Crossroads Rally, she’d be more receptive. Nothing said income better than a string of gigs to build the bank account. But he still didn’t know what was holding her back.

  He opened her internet history. Well, that might have something to do with it. Little Miss had been digging into not just him, but the club and Axel too, with extra time spent on news sites. Too bad she couldn’t find his legit, white-collar stuff so easy. Then again, his investors always seemed to get a little jumpy when he mentioned being a more visible partner, which made it tough to close multimillion dollar deals.