Sweetest Surrender

by Katie Reus

  And frustrating. Maybe he was Angel’s new lover and moving her in with him. It made sense. She’d probably found some rich guy to take care of her. That car she’d been driving had been proof enough of that because he knew it wasn’t hers.

  When the blond man pulled out from the parking lot, he followed. As he drove, he jotted down the license plate number of the SUV. If Angel was moving somewhere else, he was going to find out where. He’d just found her again and wouldn’t let her get away from him.

  He pressed the third speed dial number on his phone.

  “Yeah,” Glen Humphrey, his private investigator answered on the second ring.

  “I need you to look up a license plate for me.” He knew the investigator could do it. There was a website that allowed license plate look-ups for a fee. Unfortunately he also knew the site kept detailed records of their registrants and they had to have legal reasons for looking up that kind of information, like skip tracing. And even then, the site didn’t always have the necessary data, just basic public records. Sometimes not even that, especially without a name to go with the plate.

  “I can try,” Glen said. “But you know it may not return anything.”

  “I understand.” He rattled off the license plate number, still following the SUV. This early in the morning he was surprised by the amount of traffic but apparently this city never slept. “Call me when you have anything.” After they disconnected, he slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a motorcycle that swerved in front of him.

  Cursing, he watched as the SUV cruised through a yellow light too far ahead of him. Unless he wanted to make a scene and possibly get in an accident, there was no way he could follow. Not with cars boxing him in on both sides and that stupid motorcycle in front of him.

  At least he knew where Angel worked. And now he had a possible lead with that guy’s license plate. The problem with her work, however, was that he couldn’t sit on the restaurant all day without looking suspicious. He’d have to gamble occasionally and hang out at the bar at least a few times until he learned her schedule. Unfortunately that increased his risk of her seeing him. He’d just have to disguise himself. And he knew exactly how to do that.

  * * *

  Vadim typed another command into his keyboard, narrowing down the search parameters to see if he could learn more about the man who’d keyed his car. After watching the surveillance video a dozen times he was convinced it wasn’t random. The man had methodically looked for Vadim’s Mercedes before keying it. And there was something about the man’s body language that had been almost gleeful.

  It was the only way Vadim could think to describe it. He’d taken such great care with his destruction. Carving in each letter with determination, with relish. And when he was done, he’d stopped and looked at it, placing his hands on his hips as he stared at his handiwork.

  A knock on his open office door had him looking up as Hayden stepped halfway inside. “Angel’s working and Logan’s keeping an eye on her.”

  “You couldn’t get Roman to watch her?” Vadim asked dryly.

  Hayden shot him an obnoxious grin. “Sorry man. Wyatt’s got him dealing with something else.”

  Vadim just grunted and turned back to his laptop. Roman and Logan MacNeil were two highly trained members of Wyatt’s personal security team. They sometimes did stuff for the hotel, but Wyatt kept them close on hand. Vadim had asked his friend and boss if he could spare one of his guys to keep an eye on Angel, so it wasn’t as if he could complain about the man’s choice. Vadim just hated Logan as a choice. The man flirted with all females whereas his brother rarely talked to anyone, much less the opposite sex.

  But Vadim couldn’t think about that right now. He had shit to do and wanted to find out something substantial before he picked up Angel from work. This morning after he’d packed up her things, he’d checked in with Mr. Botkin to let him know he had all of Angel’s belongings and would be leaving. Then he’d brought her stuff home and found out she’d picked up an afternoon shift. He’d needed to come into work anyway so he’d brought her.

  She’d been quiet most of the drive and he couldn’t tell if it was because she was upset about her place, or if she was angry at him. Because he’d definitely sensed angry vibes from her. He just wished he could figure out the anger part. He’d screwed up but he’d apologized and Angel wasn’t one to hold a grudge. It was almost like she was pissed about something else.

  Sighing, he put that on the backburner as he rolled his chair toward his other desk. He’d already plugged the unknown man’s obscured face into his custom-made—illegal—facial recognition software he piggybacked off other legal programs. He’d also put it into the casino’s software. Now it was time to check his DMV hack.

  He didn’t like to mess with the DMV, but he always covered his tracks. There was no way anyone would be able to trace him back to the hotel, not with all the false trails he left, but he still didn’t like to use the program more than necessary.

  Right now, it was very necessary. He wanted to find out more about the man asking about Angel, to see if the guy was somehow tied to the car vandalism. Unfortunately Mr. Botkin hadn’t had the entire plate number so Vadim was waiting for the list of potentials to come up. From there he’d have to narrow down the driver. When he saw the program had finished running and that he had fifteen possible cars, he printed off the list of names and owners. He didn’t save a file of it because he didn’t want a digital record anywhere on his computers.

  After closing down the program, he stared at his PC for a long moment, tapping his index finger against his desk. His gaze strayed to the small origami owl Angel had made for him the first week they’d met. He’d gone down to the Cloud looking for Hayden, and Angel had just been getting off work. She’d told him she’d seen him around the hotel, introduced herself in that friendly way of hers and sat at the bar with him, telling him she’d keep him company until Hayden came out.

  Nothing about her attitude had been flirty, she’d truly just wanted to talk with him and she was one of the only women in the damn hotel—and in general—not fucking afraid of him. He’d also seen a hint of loneliness in her hazel eyes, something he understood well. As they’d sat and talked, she’d made him the owl.

  Ever since then he’d resisted doing the one thing he always did with people. He hadn’t looked deeper into her past. Hell, he’d wanted to, but he’d known it would be the ultimate violation of privacy. Something he’d never cared about before. When he’d been in the Marine Corps, he’d been part of a deeply secret intel unit. He’d done a hell of a lot more than hack, but he’d violated people’s privacy every damn day. Just as he did as Wyatt’s employee.

  The billionaire had hired him for a reason—he was damn good at finding out people’s secrets. Hell, his Mercedes had been one of his signing bonuses, which told him how badly Wyatt had wanted him. Vadim scrubbed a hand over his face and pulled up the file Wyatt had sent to him this morning. He could have gotten the info off the system himself, but he’d been upfront with Wyatt about what he wanted and that he planned to look into Angel’s past.

  Part of him had hoped Wyatt would say no, but his friend hadn’t paused, giving him the green light. Wyatt didn’t like the vandalism or the fact that one of his employees might be in trouble. If Vadim could figure out who was behind it, then Wyatt was all for more digging, regardless of Vadim’s method.

  An hour later, he printed off the information he’d found on Angel, then deleted everything from his computer, erasing all of his tracks with more care than he’d shown in a long time.

  Chapter 9

  “Thanks for the extra shift, Sierra.” Angel put her tips into her purse before sliding the straps onto her shoulder.

  Sierra snorted. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice…” She glanced over Angel’s shoulder at someone shouting near the galley window. “Damn it, I’ve gotta run. Get out of here before I decide to keep you,” she said half-jokingly.

  And that was all the motiv
ation Angel needed to exit the kitchen. The dining area was a mish-mash of people. Even though Cloud 9 was considered fine dining, that didn’t matter in Vegas. Some people still showed up in their track suits. It was a little ridiculous, but as long as their money was good and people wore shirts and shoes, Wyatt didn’t care how they dressed. She quickly scanned one of the two bar areas, looking for a spot to sit. Vadim had told her he’d be ready to leave around six and it was only five-thirty so she had time to kill. She didn’t feel like heading up to his office either, even if he’d said she could wait there.

  The thought of being alone with him, all cooped up…no thanks. She was still reeling from losing her apartment. It seemed too surreal. But she was also grateful Vadim had stopped by to pick up all her things. She needed to call Mr. Botkin again to thank him for boxing up everything. He’d probably only done it because he felt bad about her losing her place. Even so, she was glad she hadn’t had to do it on top of everything else.

  When she spotted an open seat at the bar, she waved at the bartender who grinned and grabbed a bottle of wine—Angel’s favorite brand—and poured a glass without having to be asked. As she started to slide onto the seat, she paused and looked at the man next to it. There was a couple on the other side of the seat, clearly involved in only each other, but she wanted to make sure he wasn’t saving the seat. “Are you saving this for someone?” she asked as her friend slid the glass in front of her.

  “Nope. Just waiting for you to get off work,” he said.

  His words made her freeze and his eyes widened. “Oh, sorry, Vadim has me watching you today. Said there was an issue. I thought you knew and that’s why you were here…” He trailed off, as if unsure that he’d said too much. “I’m Logan, by the way.”

  Immediately she relaxed. Vadim had told her he’d have someone in and out today keeping an eye on her, which was something she wouldn’t complain about. She looked at the dark-eyed man with reddish-brown hair carefully. Now that she was paying attention, he looked very familiar. “One of the twins, right?”

  Grinning, he nodded and motioned to the bartender who brought him a beer instead of what looked like the ice water in his current glass. “I’m off the clock now so I can join you for a drink. So, you’ve heard about my brother and me?”

  She nodded, trying to remember what she’d heard about them. One of the waitresses had been talking about Logan or…Roman, who was the other brother. But Angel couldn’t remember what the conversation entailed. “I recognize your name. You’re not regular security though, right? You work directly for Mr. Christiansen.” That, she found a little disconcerting. She didn’t want Vadim using any special resources, not when she was in a public place surrounded by co-workers. Besides, they weren’t even sure that the thing with his car was more than stupid vandalism.

  Logan nodded, half grinning at her in a way that was probably supposed to come across as boyishly charming—which it did. This guy was a player with a capital P. “That’s right. So what’s up with you and V?”

  She blinked, unsure what he was referring to. “You mean about the car?” Jeez, did everyone know what had happened to it?

  His brow crinkled slightly. “No, I mean you two. How long have you been dating? He’s so quiet about these things and I’m nosey.”

  “Ah, we’re not dating. Just friends.” She took a sip of her wine, thankful to have something to keep her hands occupied. The restaurant was getting busy, the noise level a welcome and steady hum of distraction.

  “Oh, in that case, what are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked, his expression one of perfect friendliness. She’d gotten good at reading people and the man wasn’t creepy, no, far from it, but he had that same vibe to him Vadim did. Like a predator waiting to strike. He was likely former military too, she guessed. Which made sense if he was part of Mr. Christiansen’s security.

  “Why?” she asked.

  His eyebrows rose in clear surprise, his lips tugging into a smile that, if she’d been remotely interested, would have likely gotten her hot and bothered. “Because I want to take you out on a date.”

  She started to tell him no. It was her knee jerk reaction anytime anyone asked her out. Being on the run wasn’t conducive to dating or relationships. But then that woman’s voice as she answered the phone in Vadim’s hotel room came to mind and something inside Angel hardened in anger. There was no reason she couldn’t go out on a date. She was young and single and it had been a long time since she’d been out with a man. “Okay.”

  Logan looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected her to say yes. Which she found odd. “Were you not serious?” she asked, taking another sip.

  “I’m very serious. Just couldn’t decide if you’d been telling the truth about not dating Vadim. Now I know you are.” He grinned in that charming way and held out his hand. “I’ll program my number into your phone so you can call me. If you want to cancel, no hard feelings.”

  Yeah, probably because he had a harem of women waiting on standby. She dug her cell out of her purse, typed in her security key, then slid it over to him. “This is just a date. Don’t expect anything.”

  He shook his head, a dimple appearing in his left cheek as he typed in his number. “I’m always hopeful, but never expect a thing. I can pick you up or meet you out some place. Think about it then call or text me later with what you want. I’m easy.”

  “I bet you are,” she murmured before she could stop herself.

  He let out a loud bark of laughter that had heads turning their way as he handed her phone back to her. Before she’d put it back in her purse, Vadim was suddenly there, standing next to them.

  And he looked pissed, his glare icy and cutting as he watched Logan. “Your services aren’t needed anymore.” His slight accent was heavier than normal, as if he was barely containing his rage.

  Alarm slid through her at Vadim’s reaction to Logan.

  “I don’t know, I think Angel might disagree with you.” Logan’s voice was smug.

  Dear God, what was Logan doing, poking a rabid beast? She wanted to tell him to shut up. How could he not sense Vadim’s anger simmering beneath the surface?

  When Vadim looked at her, his expression softened. “Are you ready?” He still sounded pissed though, his voice vibrating with anger.

  She nodded. “Yes, but I need to pay first.”

  “I got it,” Logan said. When she started to protest, he shook his head. “If it makes you feel better you can buy me a drink tomorrow night. On our date.” He looked at Vadim almost challengingly as he said the last part.

  That was when she realized Logan was intentionally trying to rile Vadim up. Maybe that was the only reason he’d asked her out. The fact that she didn’t even care told her she should cancel the date. When Vadim actually took a step toward Logan, she slid off her chair and stepped in between them. She placed a hand on Vadim’s chest and her traitorous body flared to life. Just like that, her nipples hardened at the feel of all that strength underneath her fingertips. She clearly needed her head examined. “Let’s go,” she murmured, pushing against him.

  She couldn’t have moved him if he hadn’t wanted to go, but Vadim took a step back, his body rigid. Angel glanced over her shoulder and thanked Logan for the drink before being herded out by Vadim. To her surprise, he placed his hand firmly at the small of her back in a way she knew he meant to be proprietary as he propelled her away from Logan and the restaurant. Why did she have to like his touch so much? Just the feel of his hand on her back, not even on her bare skin, got her hot and flustered.

  His behavior surprised her, but maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe it was a ridiculous guy thing. Another man was showing interest so he decides to get all macho and stupid. Ugh. This wasn’t even about her, she realized, as Vadim steered her across the main lobby to a door she knew led to one of the private, employee parking garages. This was all about male ego.

  Vadim slid a key card over the scanner then yanked open the heavy metal door. She stepped into the hallway
that would lead to the garage ahead of him, but before she’d taken more than a couple steps, she found her back pinned against the nearest wall.

  Vadim’s pale eyes were dark with anger as he crushed his mouth over hers, rolling his hips against hers in such a dominant display she knew she should be angry. Knew she should shove him away. But as his tongue danced against hers, she moaned into his mouth, linking her fingers together around the back of his neck.

  She truly, utterly needed her head examined. She didn’t like this caveman routine, let alone that he’d been with another woman last night. Hell, she hadn’t thought Vadim capable of it. But she loved the way he was pressing her tightly against the wall, loved the feel of his thick erection pressing against her lower belly.

  Taking her completely by surprise, he eased his hips back then cupped her mound, rubbing the heel of his palm against her clit. Even with her pants and underwear in the way, the friction felt amazing. Her inner walls tightened, heat flooding between her thighs as she imagined what it would feel like to have him pushing deep inside her. But she needed to stop this. What the hell was she doing? Before she could protest, the sound of the door opening made her snap her head back.

  Vadim dropped his possessive hold on her most intimate area, but kept his body pressed tight against hers as he glanced toward the door.

  Two laughing women entered—she immediately recognized them as blackjack dealers—talking animatedly until they spotted her and Vadim. One of the women’s eyes widened. “Sorry,” she murmured, grabbing her friend’s elbow as they whispered and hurried down the hallway, their shoes clicking loudly against the tile.

  Vadim took a step back from her then, putting a foot of distance between them. He was dressed casually in black pants and a thick, cable knit blue sweater. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his expression unreadable. “Why did you make a date with Logan?”

  His question surprised Angel, though maybe it shouldn’t have. She shrugged, trying to act casual, but the motion was jerky. “Why shouldn’t I?”