“Not this time,” she told him, trying hard to sound unaffected. Yeah, all right. She’d slept with him. Not even that. They’d fucked. And how? Right in the parking lot of Terratech in his BMW with her ass slammed against the steering wheel. It wasn’t one of her proudest moments, she had to admit.
Ryan wasn’t giving up, though. “We could both use a bit of time to unwind with all we’ve accomplished on this project… all the missed lunches, late nights, and extra hours.” His lips were now in her hair, nuzzling her and giving her stomach a slight release of her lingering hunger, only not for food this time. “We both deserve it.”
We.
Yeah, right.
She was the one growing roots from her fingers and ass to her desk and chair while he entertained the likes of Ashton and what’s her name.
She dipped her chin to look at the spot where he held her arm, staring at it long enough for Ryan to release her. As good as he was in bed—and she had learned a thing or two about scorching hot sex during their three times together—she was not interested in him anymore. Not since the bastard started dumping his responsibilities on her, effectively doubling her work without thanks or compensation.
She put her hands on his hardened chest and pushed back, causing him to stagger a step or two. “Don’t keep your dates waiting.”
“Nicky…”
“See you on Monday, Ryan,” she repeated and kept walking.
To hell with this crap. She’d hit the bagel shop on the corner from her apartment.
“They’re nothing compared to you,” he said.
Triumphantly, she said, “I know.”
She ignored whatever he grumbled before he was out of earshot.
Damn that thick, skillful, fuck-her-brains-out cock of his. The memory of their heated passion in the front seat, the ripping at buttons and fabric, and the need to fuck immediately was clear as day as she continued the rest of the way home.
Yeah, he was at the top of her asshole list, yet that little run-in, along with his tempting proposition, had her panties soaked right through.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t regret leaving the batteries in the supply room.
4
Nicole
Sleep had ruled Nicole’s weekend along with recurring dreams of a sexy, well-hung stranger with thick lips, a strong jaw, and magical fingers. Those dreams entertained her thoroughly to the point where she winced and groaned on Monday morning when her alarm went off signaling the start of another work week.
“I hear it, I hear it,” she called out to no one.
She slugged through her shower and dressed casually in black slacks and a loose black shirt that draped nicely over her figure. She drew on mascara, a touch of eyeliner on her bottom lid, and a shimmer of peachy gold shadow on her lids. Pulling the brush through her hair, she considered a side braid with some sparkly clips, but shook it off, letting her hair fall naturally past her shoulders. She thought to accent her outfit with some long strands of beads, then again, Ryan might get the wrong idea, thinking she was trying to play coy and entice him by being all girly. That wasn’t really her style. Sure, she could get dressed to the nines in a cute cocktail dress and high heels, but she was much more comfortable with her hair in a ponytail, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt just hanging around the house or seeing the sites of San Francisco. It played off her best memories of being with her mom and dad when she was much younger, and they did things together like biking, hiking, picnics in whatever park was near them, or simply being a family.
Locking up her apartment, Nicole decided to bike to the office this morning since the weather was decent. Besides, after being a slug for the past two days and having carb-laden foods delivered to her, she needed some exercise before turning her full attention back to her portion of the TDE-5X project.
Niggling thoughts of the clandestine board room meeting filled her head as she pedaled toward Terratech. At some point, her paranoia was so intense that she felt someone was following her. With so much traffic and people rushing to their jobs, she knew it was a ridiculous thought, so she pressed on.
When she arrived at the building, she tucked her bike away in the underground garage back in the area close to where they stored the garbage cans. She didn’t have a lock for the cycle, so this was the next best thing – the rancid stank from the building's trash.
“Morning, Nicole,” Madison, the receptionist sang out to her when she stepped off the elevator.
“Hey there,” Nicole returned. “Did you have a nice weekend?”
Madison’s eyes widened, and she smiled. “I got soooo wasted. I think I’m still hungover.”
Nicole waggled her eyebrows at her co-worker. “Water and lots of it.”
“You know it.”
That’s when the thought hit Nicole. Where was her fucking water bottle? She’d had it with her when she went to the kitchen early in the morning when she encountered the men in the boardroom. But, where was it now? She usually took it home with her over the weekend to toss it in the dishwasher, not this time.
Just then, Nicole was greeted outside of the receptionist’s desk by some unknown military security guard. He stood a few feet away from the elevator door, obviously on the lookout for someone. He was a broad-shouldered man with a clean-shaven head, wearing a black suit with a black tie and sunglasses the same color as the window tint on standard issue CIA government vehicles. Nicole wasn’t born yesterday. She could make guys like that from a mile away. The security guards at Terratech were not such intimidating figures—Rent-a-Cop types with only one bullet in their gun, a la Barney Fife. They were probably more afraid of their own shadow than anything else. Besides, Terratech had cameras and security codes everywhere, so there really wasn’t a need for brute, heavy-handed force.
Until today, obviously. Gone were Stanley and Adam, the regular guys who talked hockey, baseball, and football. And, in their place was Mr. Fence Post. He was the real deal. He rotated his head in her direction. Although he wore dark sunglasses, Nicole knew she was the one he wanted a word with. She’d play dumb as long as she could.
She wanted to continue the nonchalant and friendly banter with Madison, but her tongue was a big old tangled mess. It was best not to say anything at all, so she returned her thoughts to the issue of her water bottle. Yes, the water bottle.
Trudging at a picked-up pace through the office, she was oblivious to the morning greetings from her co-workers as she replayed her early Saturday morning actions in her head. She had the bottle, filled it in the kitchen, drank from it, refilled it, and then...
Motherfucking hell.
She had set it down on the floor of the corridor when she went to retrieve her phone from her pocket to record what she saw. Yet…
“I never picked it up,” she said, releasing her held breath.
“What’s that, Nicky?”
Ryan stood smugly before her, blocking her way to her cube.
She shook him off. “Nothing. Just running through my to-do list.”
When she tried to round him, he stepped before her. “Want to do lunch today?”
She lifted her mouth into a half-smirk, more freaked out over her mental discovery and the thought of Mr. Fence Post eventually tracking her down than having to deal with Ryan’s inappropriate advances.
“Don’t make me file a complaint with the EEOC,” she quipped.
“Equal Opportunity? For what? We have plenty of female programmers here,” Ryan said.
“Sexual harassment, a hostile work environment,” she said flatly. “Shall I go on?”
Ryan tossed his head back and laughed. His sexy hair fell into his eyes, only making her more irritated by how gorgeous he was… and he knew it. “You’d never do that, Nicky. I take care of you.”
“Not really,” she mumbled. Nicole blew out a gust of air and forced a smile. “I’ve got to get to the project, Ryan.”
He stepped aside and swept his arm down, bowing to let her pass. “My lady…”
Blow it ou
t your ass.
She wanted to laugh—at Ryan, out of nervousness, out of fear—but the emotion clogged in her throat, nearly causing her to stop breathing when she rounded the corner into her cubicle. The first thing she saw was Bob Worthington sitting in her chair, talking on her desk phone. The second things she saw was Mr. Fence Post with his arms crossed in front of him standing with his feet spread.
She mustered up the courage to speak and eked out, “Hey, Bob. What’s up?”
The larger, older man spun around to face her and said into the phone, “I’ll call you back later.” Then, he hung up the receiver, cleared his throat, and said, “Morning, Nicole. Good to see you. There are some folks here who need to speak with you in Doyle’s office.”
Doyle McDonough was the Senior Vice President and Director of Programming, a parallel position on the company’s org chart with Bob Worthington. Doyle’s brother, Randall, was the owner and CEO. He lived up in Puget Sound, so Doyle was about as high up one could get in this office.
Nicole had only ever spoken to Doyle McDonough one other time when the company rented out Candlestick Park for a team-building event. That time, she was awkwardly paired up with him for the three-legged race. Of course, they won, because who the fuck in their right mind would dare outrun the man in charge? He’d complimented her on her form and had given her a $30 gift certificate to Ghirardelli’s. That was the extent of their interaction… until now.
Ryan, who was lingering out of his own apparent curiosity, slid his eyes to meet Nicole’s. He seemed to beg her non-verbally not to give up the ghost that she’d been doing his work.
Nicole licked her lips uneasily. She didn’t want any of them to see the tension pulling across her shoulders like a vice grip.
“I-I-I don’t understand…” she managed to say.
“Ms. Hunt,” Mr. Fence Post said taking a step toward her. He lifted one of his monster-like, meat-hooked sized hands with his palm out to stop her from retreating or even moving into her cube. “We need you to come with us.
Spinning around to face Bob, she knew she must be wearing the most incredulous look on her face. “Bob?”
He chuckled the confident laugh of a man with a hefty 401(k), plenty of savings in the bank for the kids’ college, and a lifetime membership at The Olympic Country Club. He pointed forward to the main corridor leading to the executive offices and fell into step behind her, with one of his large hands placed gently on the middle of her back to guide her.
This was serious.
She resisted the urge to recoil from his touch and focused on putting one foot in front of the other without falling down and making a fool of herself. In no time at all, they stood outside the very board room where Nicole had witnessed whatever it was went down here Saturday morning.
“Here we are,” Bob said, pushing her ahead.
Mr. Fence Post knocked light on the door and announced “Gentlemen, Ms. Hunt is here.”
Nicole choked back the bile in her throat and forced a smile as she walked in. There sat Doyle, expressionless with his hands folded on the table. And, next to him was a man she’d never seen before and knew she’d regret meeting him, no matter what.
He narrowed his eyes at her until they were near slits and said, “Ms. Hunt. It seems we have a lot to talk about. Please join us.”
She heard the conference room door close and lock behind her.
Holy shit. God, help me.
5
Nick
Weihai, Shandong, China
Well, this is fucked up, mused Nick Taylor as he made his getaway.
Officials were already on the scene at the Port of Weihai in Shendong, China. Which wasn’t a huge problem, considering that Nick was able to easily slip out the back of the warehouse he’d set ablaze. He merged into the safety and anonymity of the crowd now gathered to watch the flames escape from the windows. At six-foot-four, Nick would stand out in this crowd and draw quite a bit of attention to himself. However, the crackling and sizzling inferno raging hard with the hues of white-hot yellows, oranges, and reds had everyone captivated.
Nick pulled the black hoodie up over his head to conceal his American features, blending in with the local onlookers and emergency responders. Firefighters were scrambling to contain the massive blaze, which had quickly spread to a storage area crammed with shipment crates full of cheaply made crap bound for the United States. He didn’t want to think about the poorly paid people who’d made all the stuffed animals, clothing, or other gift store items. This wasn’t the time to think about the little guy, or buy American or whatever. He’d had a job to do and would make sure it was done right.
Nick Taylor always followed orders to a tee. It was more than just his Army training. It was his ethics, his morals, and his own personal code. He knew right from wrong. He could sense the bad guy from a mile away. His gut always guided him and never led him astray.
Certainly not this time either.
He’d tracked his man, discovered what he needed, and performed the task he’d been hired to do.
Clean.
Simple.
Easy.
Okay, not exactly clean. Someone was going to have a serious cleanup and restoration effort to deal with once this warehouse finished searing.
The night sky was lit as if it were a rocket launch as the billowing clouds from the explosion rose over the many warehouse structures in the area. Nick smiled to himself in spite of the melee he’d caused. This was one of his best jobs yet. It was sure to make every international news outlet – what with all the camera crews, not to mention people with their cell phones capturing potentially viral videos of the inferno from every fucking angle. This outcome hadn’t been his intention, but shit happened sometimes. As long as his mission was completed to the company’s satisfaction, these consequences were more or less acceptable. Collateral damage and all that.
The bastard he’d nixed had it coming. Nasty sort of beast with his fingers in all sort of illegal pies, so to speak. Nick had no regrets or qualms about it. He’d taken out real shit heads before and slept just fine.
He heard a woman near him gasp and cry out in Chinese that she hoped no one was injured in this horrible fire. Nick shifted his eyes to the left corner of the warehouse where his mark now lay—charred remains, at best. He knew the only person injured in all of this was the exact person who was meant to be exterminated. The casualty—one soul he had been hired to eliminate. And, Nick had set the blast as a final candle on the cake to celebrate the end of his current assignment. Maybe it was overkill, but it was exactly what was requested of him.
Whatever The Company wanted, The Company got.
Nick pretended to be horrified, just like the others around him, as the scene outside the warehouse went from concern to mayhem, with workers fleeing, motorists being turned away, and nearby buildings being evacuated. The streets were clogged with vehicles, mostly those getting out of their cars to do the Chinese equivalent of rubber necking – getting pictures and video and calling friends to tell them what was going on. Ironically, a disaster like this wasn’t simply an American fascination. It was worldwide.
Nick couldn’t help but snicker at how such an evil and maniacal prick like his target was unknowingly receiving such a celebratory and media spectacle goodbye. Wonders never ceased to amaze him. Yet, it was best these nice people surrounding him knew nothing of the despicable shit this man was dealing.
“How did it start?” one man near him asked frantically.
Nick could provide him with an answer, but it wasn’t necessary. He’d be long gone—a virtual ghost in the night—once investigators rifled through the remains to discover the cause of this. On the fourth floor of the warehouse, he had rigged a container with one particular industrial chemical. Long before the fire department arrived at the scene, the calcium carbide in the warehouse would eventually react with the water from the building’s internal sprinkler system. The slow-burn rigging cord Nick set up would take forty minutes to reach the f
irst floor where the flammable chemicals were stored. In thirty-one minutes there would be a blast massive enough to ignite other chemicals stored in the warehouse, creating a chain reaction that would forever eliminate any evidence of the one casualty. And, anything else within the building.
The man’s own dentist won’t be able to ID him.
Nick knew that anywhere else in the world, such an explosion would result in hundreds of lives lost and near-apocalyptic damage. That was not possible here in Weihai as it was one of the most disciplined, regimented, emergency preparedness-focused economic zones in China. This building he chose had already been identified as an emergency response no-go zone. That meant first responders were instructed to erect a perimeter and evacuate the area, but couldn’t enter to fight fires or for any other type of emergency response. Which explained why the workers were now focused on crowd control instead of running in to tackle the blaze.
Still, Nick wasn’t hired to stick around and witness that part of it. So, he turned away and strutted across the street and away from the warehouse some ten blocks to where he had parked his black Yamaha FZ-09. Even though he’d stashed his rice rocket far enough away from the structure, he could still smell the pungent smoke filling the air. It was an odor he was familiar with in his line of work, one that his memories would never let him forget. Dressed in all black at this time of night and with so much going on, Nick knew he wouldn’t be noticed by authorities trying to control the flow of people and vehicles.
He sat astride the bike and fitted the black helmet to his head, covering his features for anyone who might notice the dark-haired-blue-eyed American. He snapped the mirrored visor into place over his face and revved the bike to start it up. He loved the sound of the roaring engine coming to power and sparking his excitement to drive and get the hell out of here. The thrust of kicking it into gear, peeling the tires off, and heading onto the road like he owned it. It was a freedom someone like Nick savored in a life of taking care of the needs of others over himself.
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