Derrick's Choice (Titan Security Book 1)

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

  I picked up the phone to see an unknown number, probably a telemarketer having called. I was thankful they’d broken through my daydream. I could only imagine what I looked like.

  OMG, I had the blinds open! I looked out the window frantically, praying no one saw me moaning or moving in the heat of passion, which lately has been a lot because the memory of that encounter haunted all my dreams.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized no one was around except for the man who’d been working on his computer. He was still hard at work, typing away at his keyboard. As I was looking over at him, he glanced up from his computer and caught me staring. A small smile played on his lips, making my heart race worrying whether he’d caught me in the act, until his head dropped back to the keyboard, and he continued typing.

  The Master hadn’t been kidding when he’d announced he was the “Master of My Dreams.” He sure as hell was—and now I wanted more fantasies to add to my collection.

  The vision of Jesse undulating her hips against the window seat the other night had me stroking my cock, wishing it was her hands fisting me, until I came about the same time as she did. It didn’t take a mind reader to tell she was reliving the memories of our encounter at Rapture.

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to repeat the experience. She’d been part of my dreams for years. I never thought I’d see her again, but then to have the chance to play…was a fantasy fulfilled. I’d half expected her to run out of the room, never to return. I would’ve let her go had she wanted. I’m just glad she was a betting woman—a little minx I had yet to fully explore.

  She’d been so sweet, and tempting, to offer to suck me off so I could get pleasure in our encounter, but I knew her uncle, Mr. Tennison, would have my hide if I stuck any part other than my tongue or fingers inside her. He might try to castrate me for doing that. But now that I had his permission to pursue Jesse, I might entertain the next offer.

  She’s rather tenacious for a potential sub—one I’d tame to fit my needs. I’d use the threat of a killer to keep her close, but, secretly, I wanted her to be mine. I’m thankful Tennison agreed her being with me at the club would keep her safe and less of a potential target. If the killer ever realized their connection, she’d be easy bait to get to Tennison. I would NOT let that happen! Just thinking about the risk had me so fucking pissed; I wanted to punch a hole in the wall.

  Thinking about Jesse, however, had my mind addled. I was feeling myself become a lit fuse from the frustration of this case. I needed a way to release some tension, and there were only two ways to accomplish that. One was to find a fuck buddy for the evening, bend them over the nearest flat surface, and pound into them until I found my release. The other was to go to the gym and work out until I could hardly move. Given that I only wanted my cock buried in one particular hole, Jesse’s, I decided on working out.

  I grabbed a crappy pair of shorts and a muscle t-shirt, along with my sneakers and some earbuds for my phone. I wanted to drown out the sounds around me, focus only on feeling the burn of my muscles, and allow myself to think about this fucked-up case.

  I was grateful the workout room was empty; I could let myself go and really think, without worrying if I’m bothering someone else by mumbling—a quirk I had when something was really annoying the shit out of me. At least the facility was fully stocked with free weights and other equipment to give me a punishing workout. I set the phone to my workout playlist and started running the treadmill while I went over all the facts in my mind.

  Tennison had been forthcoming, providing me with details of his life—starting with the moment he faked his death as Jesse Bradford, all the way to a few days ago when he finally showed up at my apartment. I was only concerned with the individuals he interacted with on a regular basis. I needed to know when and how he met both of his wives, former and current; the temperament of his kids, step and real; current extended relatives, etc. to see if anyone stood out amongst the crowd. I also requested a list of employees who might want to see him fail, anyone who had verbalized grievances against him in the past, and so forth. I wanted to leave no stone unturned. The only problem was the mile-long list of potential suspects to rule out.

  I ran a hand through my hair, to brush away the sweat that was starting to build from my work out on the treadmill, when I grabbed a handful and pulled, feeling ready to rip it out. That’s how flustered I was on this case. I almost wished we could go back to a few days ago when all I was doing was watching Jesse, keeping an eye on Tennison’s stepchildren, and learning Mr. Rogers’ workload and duties so I could easily take them over come Monday.

  I guess the best place to start was at the beginning. Tennison had formed Pterodyne Systems here in Tampa so he could stay somewhat close to his real family. He became lonely and isolated, which led to him forming Rapture with the help of a few of his former military buddies he’d hired for work. This hadn’t surprised me. Many of the men, and women, serving in the military that dealt with dangerous missions, needed a means to relax and unwind, and we often found kink to be something that allowed us to get out of our minds, even if only for a brief moment. It gave us a sense of control when the world, or the situation we were in, was completely unmanageable.

  The only problem with the club was its success and word-of-mouth advertising that reached Mr. Prescott, and he, in turn, unknowingly brought Tennison’s real-life brother, Kent Bradford, into the establishment. Turns out, Prescott International provided Pterodyne various imported items. Many of the former military personnel working for Tennison had developed tastes for specific food items when serving overseas. Since the employees often worked late, he opted to open a small mom-and-pop store on the first floor of his business so everyone could get items they couldn’t get anywhere else for a fraction of the cost, thanks to Prescott offering up special discount deals for former military personnel. As a thank you, Tennison had offered free trial memberships to Mr. Prescott and his friends. It was lucky Tennison had been working behind-the-scenes the night his brother walked into the club.

  Marshall migrating over to Alexander Prescott’s business from Pterodyne all made sense now—he was used to distract Kent Bradford from finding out Jesse was still alive. It was luck that Marshall had a sister in Orlando he wanted to move closer to. I guess everything worked out, since Mr. Prescott, The Bradfords, and The Lombardis decided to open their own club because the drive to Tampa was too much. It was Marshall who helped put the idea in their minds and offered to help them create the club to their preferred likings. So Marshall knew all along whom Tennison really was! I always suspected he was more informed about things than what he let on. That little…

  Movement outside the window of the workout room caught my attention. I got off the treadmill, slunk across the floor to just under the window, and peeked out to see Cassidy and Blaine—Tennison’s stepchildren—talking very animatedly about something. Cassidy was shaking her head to something Blaine was saying. I needed to find out what was going on, so I opened the window ever so slightly, without making any noise, and listened.

  I learned more than I wanted to. Apparently, Amy had been using Cassidy and Blaine to spy on their adoptive father to see what new contracts he was acquiring for business. She wanted to go to the judge to argue for more money. Cassidy felt guilty, saying their dad had been nothing but nice to them despite their screw-ups. But Blaine countered that if their adoptive father really cared, he wouldn’t be working them so hard. He seemed to take after his mother—wanting everything for nothing. What a spoiled self-entitled brat. What that boy needed was a good dose of reality, and the military could definitely bring him to heel. Well, this was a waste of a few minutes.

  I lowered the window back into place and decided to pump some iron, trying to rid my mind of that selfish twerp Blaine. Could he be the culprit? Was he that greedy of a bastard? I dismissed the notion and began clicking through the list of people.

  Tennison had met his first wife, Amy Milton, at Rapture. She’d never mar
ried the father of her children, only having lived with him for several years until he took off without word; the kids were both school-age. Blaine and Cassidy had their mother’s maiden name until Tennison adopted them. I’d asked if he’d ever seen pictures of her former lover—the kids’ father—or even heard his name mentioned. His first name was Cal or Calleum was all Tennison knew.

  I guess I could understand why he never wanted to know who’d been with Amy prior to him. Most dominant men didn’t want to think of anyone ever possessing their woman before them. I’d probably feel the same way if I found one I wanted to… Don’t go there, man. You’re on assignment. You don’t know how long you’ll have with Jesse, and whether she’ll hate you when she finds out you’re here to protect her uncle and her.

  I shook my head to refocus. I’d had our Titan Security team get copies of Cassidy’s and Blaine’s birth records, but the name for their father was kept blank. I’d have to dig further to try and find out what I could about this guy. I wonder if we could get a DNA study done with a hair sample; maybe that would give us a lead on what kind of person we’re looking for; maybe their father’s DNA would be on file if he’d ever committed a crime. The only problem is it’d be time-consuming, and we didn’t have much time on our hands.

  So far, Amy’s whereabouts had checked out. She and Tennison divorced due to her infidelity. I’d had one of our team members following her for a couple days, and she’d already been spotted with various guys buying her expensive items. According to Tennison, no amount of money or clothes seemed to satisfy her. She’d taken him for an extensive amount in the divorce settlement, but was currently demanding more money.

  His current wife, Natalie, worked from home for an online sales business she’d built from scratch, promising vintage clothing, accessories, and hard-to-find items. She was quite successful in her own right. He’d met her through one of his retired military employees. He admitted it was love at first sight, with her desire to be in control of her work by day, but wanting him to control her by night. What I wouldn’t give to have that. Focus, man…lift the weights and continue on with your fucking list!

  Their son, Jacob, was finishing up the last year of his college degree in Aerospace Engineering at Embry-Riddle University. He had an internship with his father’s company and was working from the ground up to learn every aspect of the business while completing the rest of his classes online. I didn’t even have to ask Tennison any information about Jacob; he’d praised him like crazy for following in his footsteps. He was definitely one proud father.

  I had to admit I was jealous as hell. My dad only wanted to pick me apart for not being more involved with running Titan Security. I didn’t mind helping him out, but hell, I wanted the chance to pursue my dreams…this was my opportunity to try. Tennison had declared he was trying to make up for giving my job to his niece. If nothing else, at least I’d get the chance to live my life how I wanted, even for just a little while, and piss off my father in the process.

  My dad always had a way of making me feel guilty for not wanting to follow in his footsteps. Granted, I loved working security, but the aerospace industry was such a rush in comparison. The idea of being able to create something amazing or improve upon a design to help the military out…that’s what I wanted.

  I didn’t want to be stuck behind a desk, ordering people around to do this job or that one, consumed by money and losing focus on why I got involved in the security side of things to begin with. Hell, that’s what my half-brother, Rick, wanted, but not me. He ate up the chance to do anything for Mr. Prescott and our dad—if only he would suck it up and finally give Rick the chance. Granted, Dad didn’t have much of a chance to get used to the idea of having Rick as a son. We’d both been injured on a mission in the military, and, somehow, they’d gotten our lab work mixed up. They tried to compare things with the information on file to figure out which sample belonged to whom, when they discovered our strands of DNA were from the same father.

  Dad admitted receiving word that he had another son when I was only two years old, but he dismissed it as someone trying to get back at him for some of the assignments he’d pulled working for the government. According to him, he had to sleep with a spy, who actually turned out to be a double agent, to save his life; otherwise, he would’ve ended up dead. Mom was furious with him, yet forgave him when she heard all the details. She claimed she’d rather he stay alive so she could torture him for the rest of his. To this day, if she said jump, he would. I couldn’t help but smile at the idea of Dad getting a taste of his own medicine. At least my mom welcomed Rick into our family and even encouraged him to have his last name changed to Caldwell to match ours.

  I grunted as I lifted the heavy free weights up over my head. I needed to stop this fucking mind-drifting and refocus. This is twice now my mind has wandered off into other territory. Think, Derrick! Is there anyone who’s disgruntled enough at work, a previous employee or vendor that’s been shot down, anyone?

  There’d been a couple of employees who’d been laid off due to poor work performance, but they were ones hired, after completed internships, through the local colleges. All of the former military operatives were steadfast, never wavering in their work ethics. The few potential leads failed to pan out because they were already working other jobs and had no further contact with the company.

  I still felt I was overlooking something. My gut was telling me there was an inside employee defrauding the company of money or helping an external source gain access somehow. But no one had raised any suspicions to the security team Tennison had employed to work for both his company and home. I found myself saying aloud, “I wonder if…”

  A small sweet voice behind me asked, “You wonder what? Are you talking to me?”

  Holy crap! How in the hell had someone snuck up on me? This never happened. I didn’t need to turn around to know who was behind me. My body responded automatically to Jesse whenever she was close. She wasn’t supposed to be here; her workouts were always earlier in the evening. Should I respond to her or ignore her? Will she recognize my voice as the Master? Should I disguise it?

  I didn’t respond or look at her. I hoped she’d just continue peddling on the exercise bike and ignore me, when she huffed. “I guess some people don’t know how to use manners and respond when asked a question.”

  God, how I loved that brazen mouth of hers; she’d definitely be a fiery one to train as a submissive. I could imagine her countering my commands, and the joy I’d have in creating punishments to push her past her shyness. Just thinking about seeing her ass lit up with a nice rosy glow from a flogger, for sassing me, made me hard. Man, you need to stop having that fantasy run through your head…or your other head will be standing at attention.

  I’d been born and raised in the south, but, thanks to my dad moving us all over creation because of his service in the Air Force, I ended up losing most of my accent. Looks like I was about to bring it back. I shook my head and began to laugh.

  “What’s so funny, Mr. Rude?” Her voice was laden with sarcasm. Damn that mouth.

  “Darlin’, didn’t anyone ever teach you to not stick your nose where it don’t belong? I’m here minding my own business, workin’ out, and you waltz right in on my private ramblings and just expect me to be all polite to you?”

  I placed the weights back on the bars that held them, before picking up a dumbbell and loading it with plenty of weight for squats, enough to make my quads and glutes sore. I turned just enough so I’d have the ability to see her out of the corner of the mirror. Just as I suspected—she’d blushed at me calling her out for being nosy.

  She didn’t make eye contact with my partial image in the mirror, despite my eyes focusing in on her. Instead, she looked down at the ground in front of the bike…definitely a natural submissive. Her voice was barely a whisper, “I’m sorry. You’re right. Aren’t you the new guy, just moved in across the way?”

  So she’d been checking me out whenever I allowed myself to
be seen from the window. My plan was working. I didn’t want to go in on Monday and take her totally by surprise that I lived in her building and would be working with her at Pterodyne without giving her a chance to get to know me a bit first. I’d talked with Tennison about this, and he’d agreed that trying to make an effort to get to know her a little would help to cushion the blow of losing the management position.

  “Yes. I moved in a month ago.” I admitted

  Her face lifted as she looked over into the mirror and caught me smiling at her. Damn, that blush looks good covering her face and chest. I couldn’t help but admire her tight spandex shorts and tank top.

  “You’ve been here a month? Why haven’t I seen you before now?” I guess she realized she was being nosy again. “I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have asked that, but you have to admit, not running into you until now seems a bit odd.” She raised her hand and pointed at the building. “Its not like we’re a huge apartment complex. Everyone tends to run into one another every few days.”

  I stopped mid squat and responded. “I’ve been busy. I’m not usually here this time of night. Normally, I work out early in the morning, and I’m up till the wee hours at night covering for a friend of mine at a club.” I didn’t specify what kind of club so she’d assume a dance venue or bar.

  “Are you a bouncer at a dance club? You sure are built like one.” Her eyes greedily checked out the sweaty shirt that was sticking to my back and probably highlighting my muscles.

  Why not run with it? “I guess you could say that, darlin’. Since we’re talking, what’s your name, unless you want me to refer to you as darlin’ or sweet thang.”

  Her peddling faltered, and her feet came loose. She scurried to regain her composure. It was nice knowing I affected her both in the club and out. I just hoped she wouldn’t put two and two together, realizing who I was.