Dirty Ties

by Pam Godwin

  The stream of pedestrians parted around them. Collin spoke in her ear, and her fingers slipped into the hair behind his, her head nodding against his neck.

  It was hard to watch and impossible to look away. Whatever her reasons for sleeping with me, she loved him. It was too much.

  I rubbed my chest, tried to massage away the resentful awareness. I resented Collin for having her. I resented hurting her. But most of all, I resented feeling this way. It was a foreign, unexpected emotion, and I fucking hated it.

  The voice of reason told me everything about her was calculated, from her reserved poise to her sexy-as-fuck heels. She was Trent’s protégée after all.

  But the seething I fucking hate you she’d said to him stabbed my chest with doubt. Trent had a hold over her that was deeper than her greed for money and power. Did she even want those things?

  When Trent played the video, I’d braced for a flinging string of spit, a scourge of insults, and a major-league explosion of drama to fit the treachery I’d committed against her. Instead she’d held her chin high, her eyes open and dry, and calmly punched my face.

  I prodded my cheekbone, tracing the swelling. It twinged beneath the touch, but nowhere near enough.

  She should’ve kicked my balls to my stomach and ridiculed my performance in bed. She should’ve threatened my life with venom in her eyes. That was what I expected going in. That I could’ve handled. Anything would’ve been easier than the quiet, lonely hurt that had shattered beneath her brave expression.

  Amidst the flux of traffic, standing beside his fancy, black limo and comforting his wife, Collin lifted his eyes and aimed them directly at me. I leaned away from the building, straightening to my full height, and stared back.

  He wouldn’t know who I was, wouldn’t be able to differentiate my face from the dozens of others moving between us. Yet he looked at me for a deliberate heartbeat, one that extended into endless more. Too long to be cursory. Too pointed to be unintelligible.

  He knew.

  Knew who I was? Knew I’d fucked his wife? Whatever he knew would not inspire an introduction with handshakes. I flexed my fingers at my sides. My muscles heated and bunched, ready for an ugly confrontation.

  I wasn’t sure what shocked me more. The fact that he picked me out of a crowd or the sight of him turning his back to me and pulling her into the limo.

  My eyes blinked rapidly as the limo motored forward and merged into traffic. What the fuck? I rubbed my neck beneath the strangling collar. Had I just imagined all that?

  I must have, because if I were her husband, I would’ve beaten her lover into the sidewalk until he stopped breathing.

  As I walked back to the Trenchant Tower, it niggled. While I sat on the couch in Trent’s office—my office—lots of things about Collin Anderson niggled.

  What had he done to incite his wife to cheat on him? Not that he was to blame, but why would Trent frame him for murder? Was it an empty threat or did he have legitimate proof?

  It was a strong enough threat to convince Kaci to stay on as my direct report. Which worked to my advantage. I needed her employed so I could monitor her activities.

  Trent’s moving crew scurried around me. Trent had left for the day and evidently wasn’t keen on leaving me alone with his equipment. My burly babysitter from the day before stood by the door, eyeing every twitch of my finger.

  He stepped to the side as a younger man rolled out a cart loaded with Trent’s computer equipment. When I’d given Trent the video, I’d watched him move a copy of the file from the flash drive to his laptop. But I’d embedded a logic bomb in the video file. Twenty-minutes ago, the time-activated malware destroyed every copy except the one that remained safely hidden in my warehouse.

  A sex tape scandal was one threat Kaci didn’t have to worry about and one of the many reasons I wanted to talk to her when she ran out.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. Christ, my head pounded with so many unanswered questions.

  When I’d walked into Trent’s office unannounced this morning, he’d greeted me with his palm out and a sleazy smile on his face as he said, “Give me the video.”

  Of course Holden had contacted him, but how did he know I’d gone through with the trap?

  But what bothered me most was the scene in his bathroom. It wasn’t just the tension between him and Kaci that had set my teeth on edge. It was the way they were standing, his body too close for a man with his daughter-in-law. Was he in the habit of harassing her? Did he touch her, force himself on her?

  My hands shook, and my ears pounded. If he fucking hurt her, I wouldn’t just kill him. I’d kill him slowly and painfully.

  I spent my first two days as CEO of Trenchant Media ruminating on this shit between introductory meetings with department heads. Kaci didn’t return to work after she left with Collin, and Friday morning, she called in sick.

  The GPS tracker I’d wedged behind her windshield turned me into a stalker. She took the bike out Thursday and Friday night. The app on my tablet showed her hitting top-speeds around the outskirts of the city. For two nights, I watched that red dot move over the map like a man possessed.

  Like now, sprawled on the couch in Benny’s gaming area, I couldn’t bring myself to look away. There was comfort in it, knowing she was out riding her bike rather than at home riding her husband.

  I ached to jump on my bike, chase her down, and demand answers. Hell, I had a key to her condo. I could barge in and fuck the truth out of her.

  I pulled on the collar of my t-shirt, a desperate knot hardening in my throat.

  Which was why my ass was on this couch. I needed to cool off as much as she needed to nurse her wounds. I’d give us both until Monday. Two more days.

  Benny stretched out beside me with her laptop balancing on her stomach as she stalked Kaci on Trenchant’s internal network.

  Using a clone of my top-level security profile, she dropped sniffers on servers and desktops tied to the network while disabling action-logging to hide her trail. These wire-taps were a lightweight hack, a simple way to monitor Kaci’s online activities, so I was surprised as hell when she told me an hour later she’d found something.

  She leaned up and twirled one of the dozens of blue braids covering her head. “Jenna Greer.”

  I hadn’t met Jenna yet, but I knew who she was. “Kaci’s administrative assistant.”

  She gestured at the activity log on her screen. “Yeah, so she picks up these files from an encrypted server every day and e-mails them to Kaci.”

  I raked a hand through my hair, unable to drag my eyes from the moving dot on my tablet. “What files?”

  “Don’t know. They’re encrypted.”

  And she’d need the private key to open them. The app on my tablet chirped, the dot moving north, Kaci’s speed reaching 160 miles per hour. My heart raced as I pictured her in her silver leathers, her braid whipping around her back, risking her goddamned safety at that speed. I wanted her straddling me, bent forward and ass up, her thighs gripping mine like her life depended on it.

  Benny leaned over my shoulder. “No matter how long you stare at that dot, it’s not going to sprout an ass and tits.” She tapped her chin. “Though I could code a modification for that. Think about it. An x-rated GPS navigator that guides you to your destination with a naked avatar and a bedroom voice.” She tilted her head back and drawled a ridiculously low moan, “Take a hard right, baby. Yeah, right there. Drive harder.”

  I sighed heavily and turned off the tablet. “Jenna sends encrypted files to Kaci. And…?”

  She rolled her green eyes and turned back to her laptop. “I checked out the activity on the server. The only other users logging in are Hal Pinkerton and Trent Anderson. Hal drops files. Jenna and Trent pick them up.”

  Who the hell was Hal Pinkerton?

  For the next two hours, we hacked public and private records. Hal was a reporter at Trenchant under Kaci’s chain of command. He paid property taxes on a Hayabusa sportbike, and two m
onths ago, his father was released from prison on a legal technicality.

  But the most interesting discovery? We tracked him to an ID on the underground racing network. A feat only Benny could pull off since she’d developed the platform.

  Hal Pinkerton had access to a network the FBI wanted to shut down and the Trenchant Times would love to expose. What disconcerted me was seeing both Kaci and Trent logging onto the same server. Were they working together? Was one tracking the other? Or was it coincidence?

  The next night, I raced against an overweight American, who called himself The Sliminator. Before, during, and after I beat his fat ass, her silver Ducati loomed at the forefront of my thoughts.

  But when I crossed the finish line, I didn’t look for her, my focus obsessively fixated on the red dot blinking at the edge of my visor display. She was fifteen miles away.

  I circled the city to shake any tails that might’ve been following, something I did after every race. Then I went after her.

  It was impulsive and futile. Dressed as Evader, I couldn’t ask her the questions that were gnawing at my insides. And the puzzle surrounding her and Hal Pinkerton magnified the importance of my anonymity. Last thing I needed was for her to connect the CEO of Trenchant to Evader.

  Didn’t stop me from cranking on the gas and chasing the moving red dot. I would just follow her for a while, maybe steal a glimpse of her on the bike.

  I caught up with her on Rogers Avenue, her red taillight a beacon against the black sky. It was after midnight, and the scarcity of traffic forced me to remain back. When she slowed on a quiet street, I pulled up to the curb beneath an overpass and used the night vision to zoom in.

  Two blocks ahead, she stopped at a stoplight. Bent forward at the waist, the muscled curves of her ass wrapped in silver, her blonde braid following the line of her spine. My lips knew every bump of that spine. My palms tingled in memory of my handprints on her ass.

  Her breathy sounds, her honeyed smell, and the way she touched her tongue to her teeth when she smiled, I’d memorized all of it. Every spellbinding delicacy.

  All of it unavailable.

  Unobtainable.

  Married.

  Ironic sentiment, considering I would do anything, especially murder, to seek revenge. Yet the thought of stealing another man's wife made me feel sick all over. I’d always believed the end justified the means. But I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about the means. My longing for her was a distraction I did not need.

  A distraction I couldn’t give up.

  The stoplight turned green, but instead of rolling forward, she made a U-turn and darted straight toward me.

  Fuck, it was no surprise she’d seen me. Hard to miss the only other bike on the road. I shouldn’t have followed her. It would only take a recognizable mannerism or word, and she could connect my current identity to the man who’d spent hours inside her body.

  My pulse sped up. I could take off and lose her in five or six blocks.

  Tuck my tail. Protect my ass. Run away. Just like the night I met her.

  My insides thrashed against the idea, a strange impulse heating my veins, seething to fight. Fight for her.

  Deep down, I knew that would never work. But I couldn’t accept that. Couldn’t bear the way it hurt.

  I removed my hands from the grips, relaxed them on my thighs, and clocked her approach with the rapid fire of my breaths.

  She stopped her bike on the sidewalk beside me. Facing opposite directions, our legs inches apart, a mantle of patient acceptance settled over us. Our expressions safely concealed beneath the visors, we took each other in. No expectations. Simply watching.

  I turned off the engine, and she followed suit. The crank of a car sounded in the distance, but this stretch of Rogers Avenue, beneath the concrete arches of the elevated train tracks, belonged to us.

  Her helmet tipped down as she traced a gloved finger around the cap of her gas tank. “You’ve got a magic key to my condo, and now you’re tracking me?” She looked up. “Should I be worried?”

  “I’m harmless.”

  She laughed. “Hearing you say that in that damned voice…” She cleared her throat. “Nice try.”

  Oh, if she could see my eyebrow now. No doubt it matched the twitch in my lips. “You weren’t at the race tonight.”

  Her helmet cocked to the side. “Missing me now, are you?”

  I’d told her to stop going, but yeah, I fucking missed her. So much I reached out my hand and placed it over her restless ones on the gas tank.

  She jerked away, taking her entire body with it. Tension snapped through her back as she leaned forward and gripped the handlebars. Looking straight ahead, she reached for the ignition.

  My hands clenched. Christ, I’d done that to her. All my bullshit had made her jumpy and distrustful, the usual heat that simmered between us gone. If she harbored any feelings for Evader, they were deeply buried beneath her hurt.

  “Stay.” I crossed my arms over my chest, trapping my hands. “I’ll keep my hands here.”

  Eternal seconds ticked by. Pressure built in my head, my body thrumming to tell her who I was and why I’d done the things I did.

  I couldn’t risk it. Trent controlled her with threats, which meant he could extort any information I gave her.

  None of that mattered, not in this moment. Right now, I was just a man, with the simple need to be near her.

  “Tell me something.” She angled her visor to look at me, her forward lean still poised to jet. “Something personal.”

  It was a quiet request, unassuming in its delivery. She wasn’t prying. More like trying to connect in a way we hadn’t done before.

  My knees loosened around the bike, my fingers curling in the gloves. I wanted that connection. I wanted real.

  So I gave her my most personal, most deeply-buried thought, something I had never admitted aloud. “I’m very angry with my mother.”

  The words resonated in my head, lingering with the vibrations of the voice modifier.

  She straightened her back and folded her hands in her lap. Her silence was comforting, oddly encouraging.

  I dragged a boot over the concrete between our bikes. “It’s unjustified. I know this. She didn’t leave me by choice. It wasn’t her fault I had no family. But she left all the same. Left me with nothing but this anger.” My chest tightened, my arms constricting around my torso. Pissed off thirteen-year-old boys didn’t make friends in boys’ homes. It was a wonder Benny put up with me. “I’m afraid it made me a bit of an asshole.”

  “Hmm. Is that an apology for being a dick the other night?”

  I was sorry for every goddamned thing I’d done to her. “Yeah.” I wanted so badly to uncross my arms and pull her against me, but I'd told her I wouldn’t move my hands. “Your turn. Something personal.”

  Her helmet tilted back, staring at the concrete supports of the overpass. “I hate high heels. Hate the way they make me feel. Everything they stand for.”

  No shit? I glanced at the scratched-up black boots on her feet, considering her response. I expected her to say something about her wretched mother, but somehow her answer seemed more intimate and revealing than anything she could’ve said about her family.

  I’d seen her glide across a nightclub, tall and confident, her sexy heels an extension of her compelling aura and beauty. I’d assumed she chose them because she loved the effect they had on those watching her. They’d certainly affected me on the dance floor.

  “And snakes.” Her voice hardened, her visor lowering to stare at her hands. “I hate snakes.”

  I had a very bad feeling that was metaphorical. Was she referring to Evader or the man who stole her job in the most vile way?

  Fighting the swallow in my throat, I chose my words carefully. “The kind of snake who leaves a gorgeous woman unsatisfied in an elevator?”

  She snorted. “No, not you. I was thinking of the spineless snake I work with. The kind that is charming to your face then unsheathes its fangs
when you turn your back.” Her helmet angled away, pointing down the road. “Never trust anything that swallows its prey alive and whole.”

  Hard to ignore that direct hit. It cut my air and scorched the back of my throat. But I swallowed it down, let it stab through my chest. God knew I deserved it.

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “That just gave me an idea.” Lifting her sleeve, she checked her watch. “I’ve got to go.”

  Why did I feel like I just missed a really important punch line?

  She started the ignition, rolled forward, and glanced at me over her shoulder. “See you around, Evader.”

  Then she bolted forward, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust and confusion.

  Until I walked into my office on Monday morning.

  It was seven in the morning when I dragged my feet down the corridor of my very own wing on the executive floor, messenger bag strapped across my chest and coffee in hand. As much as I’d rather be on my bike than suffocating in a suit and tie, there was no sense whining about it. I’d worked myself into this position, after all.

  At the double doors of Trenchant's most prestigious office, the cornerstone of power and evil, my attention caught on the plaque on the wall.

  Logan Flynt scrawled in pretentious cursive, glazed in lacquer. It was official. I was the CEO asshole of dirty corporate assholes.

  Once I ended the reign of corruption, what would become of Trenchant and the thousands who worked here? In a perfect world, Kaci would be innocent, and she would assume the leadership role and rebuild an ethical company. But the world was far from perfect.

  As I pushed open the door and crossed the room, my attention was drawn to the ceiling. Why were the motion sensor lights already on?

  Ten feet away, the desk moved. Like the entire fucking surface squirmed. I slammed to a stop, slopping coffee onto my sleeve and burning my hand. “Goddammit.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Snakes. They crawled over the desk, the keyboard, and the organizer thingie that held pens and shit. A couple snakes tumbled onto the floor, and like a big pussy, I shuffled backward, spilling more coffee.