DRAGON SECURITY: Volume 2: The Complete 6 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  I was still at the computer when Peter Bradford, Megan’s brother and one of our best undercover operatives, walked into my office. When Megan first told me, four years ago, that Peter wanted to join our team, I thought they were both insane.

  Peter wasn’t ex-military like most of our operatives; he wasn’t experienced in undercover work. And his face had been on the front page of dozens of newspapers and Internet news pages for months just the year before. His only work experience—ever—was working for his father. I didn’t see how we could safely put him out in the field. But Megan begged me to give him a chance; she told me I wouldn’t regret it. It was one thing I was glad to have been wrong about.

  “How’s it going, Hayden?”

  I shrugged. “Can’t complain. You?”

  Peter stepped into the room and took a seat in the chair in front of my desk. “Hoping you have a new case for me.”

  “I do, actually.” I reached for a file under a pile on my desk. I tugged it free and opened it, spreading it in front of me. “It’s a simple case, but it’ll get you out of town for a week or so.”

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a robotics company in San Antonio that wants to promote from within. Some sort of sales position. They’ve vetted three people in their sales department—low-rank people—and they all came back clear. They want us to put an operative in their department, get close to those three, and see if we can find any dirt that might come back to hurt them. I guess the job they’re wanting to promote one of these people to is highly sensitive. Lots of international and religious stuff involved.”

  Peter’s eyebrows rose. “They want me to find dirt in less than a week?”

  “Just hang around, listen to office gossip, maybe have drinks with them and their coworkers. See who drinks too much, who might cheat on his wife, whether one of them is a closet racist.”

  Peter nodded. “I can do that.”

  “Great. We subleased an apartment for you and arranged a temporary position with the company. You start in the morning.”

  I handed across the file folder, keys to the apartment, and the security pass he’d need to get into the building. He did little more than glance at it all before he stood to leave.

  “Oh, hey, the code name for this one is Horae.”

  He chuckled a little. “You and Megan and these odd code names. What are we doing now? Roman gods?”

  “Greek.”

  He just shook his head, as he walked out the door.

  I found myself wondering how he was doing, as I watched him go. He was dead for two years—at least we thought he was. Two years, he was held captive by a brilliant psychopath, thinking about his loved ones back in Houston, thinking about the woman he’d only just learned was pregnant with his child when he faked his death. Thinking about that child and the future they would share. Only to be rescued and find out that his younger brother, Cole, had married the mother of his child and was raising him as his own.

  I couldn’t imagine it. If Sam had had our child and married another man … it would have driven me insane to watch my child call another man Daddy, even if that other man was my brother.

  Since Peter had come back, Cole had not only had two more children with his wife, but he had also taken a position with the family business that was essentially the same one Peter should have held.

  It was a big enough adjustment to come back to life after faking his death, but to have to take a backseat to the life he’d planned for himself? It must have been a struggle to face each day. But Peter managed it with more refinement than I could have.

  We were two peas in the same pod, I supposed. Both just going through the motions.

  Chapter 2

  Peter

  My phone rang as I passed the San Antonio city limits. I glanced at it, but not with any real intention of answering. I knew it would be Megan or Mother, calling to make sure I was okay. They tag teamed it, calling me every day or every other day, just to check in. They thought they were doing a good thing, making me feel loved and cared for. And I appreciated that. But it was suffocating.

  They’d been watching me like hawks since I came back. I went to therapy for nearly a year to appease my mother and moved into a house a few blocks from my sister to appease her. I spent time with all my nieces and nephews, attended family barbecues, smiled, and even laughed from time to time. I did everything I was supposed to do, but they still seemed to think I was broken and needed their help.

  They were half-right.

  Being held against my will by a man who forced me to do things that I knew resulted in thousands of deaths—both directly and indirectly—was not something I would ever recover from. I was broken. But I didn’t need to be treated like a child.

  I wondered if the phone calls would stop when I had a child of my own. When I did something that seemed normal.

  I pulled to a stop at a light and pulled down the visor, touching a picture of my son, PJ. He was six now, a tall, willowy thing with my blond hair and his mother’s green eyes. Handsome boy. But he only knew me as his uncle. My brother married PJ’s mother just after he was born and thought it would be too confusing for PJ to know the truth.

  Maybe he was right. And maybe Cole just felt threatened about the idea that I might want to be a father to my own child. I didn’t know. All I knew was that Amber was happy with Cole, and that she was in her element raising their three children. It wasn’t Cole that kept me from asserting my legal rights with PJ. It was Amber.

  She deserved happiness.

  I had my life all figured out when I graduated college. I was going to join my father’s company and run the software department until he was ready to retire. I’d get married before I was thirty, have three or four children before forty, then retire in my fifties so I’d still have time to travel the world before I was too old to enjoy it. But with one misstep, all of that disappeared.

  I wished I had never looked into that illegally sold software. I wished I’d listened to Luke Murphy when he told me to back off. I wished I’d remained a boring software developer working for my daddy.

  I wished PJ was my kid and that it was my shoulders he rode on when he went to see the Houston Texans play the first game of the season.

  I wanted a child of my own. I’d thought if I threw myself back into the dating game, if I met the right woman and had another child, it would fill the hole that was ripped open every time I visited my brother and watched him with my son. But dating was less than encouraging.

  Most of the women I met—either through dating apps or friends—were either so ambitious they’d never consider settling down to have a family, or they knew who I was and there were dollar signs in their eyes as a result. Neither was really ideal for what I wanted.

  I began researching surrogacy, but when I mentioned it to Megan in an off-hand sort of way, she made it pretty clear she thought the idea was lunacy.

  You’d have to be desperate to rent a uterus. And with all the things that could go wrong … I don’t know why anyone would do it.

  So I’d have to be clever. Hide the truth from my family. But I was determined to have a child and a family of my own. I just needed to find the right woman, the right situation to keep my family from thinking I’d finally gone over the edge.

  That was going to be the hardest part.

  The light changed and I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex whose address was in the file Hayden gave me. It was an impressive place, at least thirty stories high. The parking lot was filled with luxury cars. And, if the woman walking out the front door as I passed was any indication, the tenants were just as exclusive as their apartments.

  Dragon knew how to care for its own.

  ***

  Reynolds Robotics was a large firm located in downtown San Antonio, sandwiched between the offices of James and Associates—accountants—and Peters, Martinez, Jimenez—lawyers. It reminded me a little of the offices where my therapist had her office back in Houston.
/>   “Mr. Clark?”

  I smiled politely as the receptionist read my badge. I enjoyed the names Hayden picked for me when I was undercover. Keep it simple, he always said. You couldn’t get much simpler than Peter Clark. No chance I’d forget my first name, anyway.

  “They said I’d be working on the second floor? Sales?”

  “That’s what it says here,” she said, reviewing something on her computer screen. “Have you worked at a robotics company before, Mr. Clark?”

  I had, actually. But Peter Clark hadn’t.

  “No, ma’am. But I understand this is just a clerking position.”

  “It is. But we do things a little differently here. Let me call up and ask someone to come show you around.”

  “Of course.”

  I took a seat in a group of chairs across from the receptionist’s desk. It wasn’t but maybe three minutes before a petite brunette stepped off the elevator. She was wearing proper office attire—a khaki pencil skirt and a soft pink blouse—her ankles delicate above the pencil-thin heels she had strapped to her feet. I couldn’t help but study her, my thoughts moving into areas they hadn’t gone to much lately.

  She had wide hips, narrow thighs, a tight little waist and full breasts, thin shoulders and a heart-shaped face that was accentuated by a lovely, slightly upturned nose. Her eyes were such a clear, delicate blue that I could see the color from halfway across the room. When she approached me, I almost turned around to see if she was looking for a man behind me.

  “Mr. Clark?”

  I stood, not really towering over her, but tall enough that she stepped back slightly so that our eyes could meet.

  She slid her thin fingers into my hand. “I’m Heather Bryant, Mr. Malcolm’s secretary.”

  I inclined my head, completely in the dark as to whomever Mr. Malcolm might be. I squeezed her hand lightly, almost regretting the moment she pulled it away.

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  She seemed to hesitate, a smile just barely touching her lips before she spun on those thin heels and turned.

  “You’re the temp who’s supposed to be helping out on the sales floor?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Please …” She glanced back at me as we waited for the elevator. “Just call me Heather. I know ma’am is polite, but it makes me think of my mom, you know? And the last thing I want to do right now is think about my mom.”

  “I believe I know that sentiment.”

  She glanced at me again before stepping between the still-sliding elevator doors. That smile was there again, brighter this time.

  “Things are very regimented around here,” she said, stabbing the appropriate button on the elevator’s keypad. “We don’t usually have temps, but several of the clerks on the second floor all went on sick leave at the same time, and they’re really getting behind. Mostly all you’ll be doing is inputting sales information in the computers. Boring work. But it pays all right, I suppose.”

  “Work is work.”

  She nodded. “I suppose so.”

  I found myself studying the way her thick, wavy hair refused to remain in the loose clip she’d used to pull it back. It wasn’t strictly brown, but gold and red, a rich combination of colors that made her slightly tan skin seem to glow in contrast. And her neck was delicate, like it was made of fine china, the tiny bumps of her spine pressing roundly against it. I wanted to run my finger over it. I wanted to slide my fingers over the entire length of her spine.

  I had to shake myself. My thoughts were really going places they shouldn’t have.

  “You’ll be working in the pit with the salesmen. Most of them are pretty nice.” She glanced back at me. “We have two separate sales departments here. The one you’ll be working with is the commercial division. And then we have the salesmen who deal with the corporate sales, things like electronic arms for manufacturing and robotic components for labs all over the world. But you don’t have to worry about that.”

  I inclined my head slightly. “Good to know.”

  Actually, I already knew all this. It was in the file Hayden had given me. I’d spent half the night reading through it, memorizing the things I would need to know once I got here and glossing over the things I wouldn’t.

  The elevator door opened, and we stepped out. The sales floor was basically a series of cubicles where the employees spoke into headsets, reading from a script in front of them. Heather led the way to the back of the room and gestured for me to take a seat in an empty cubicle.

  “Basically all you do is go through these sales sheets, enter the information on the computer, and move to the next sheet.”

  “Simple enough.”

  She nodded. “If you need help or whatever, Tish over there”—she gestured to the back wall of the cubicle—“can help you.”

  “What about you? Will you be around?”

  She smiled softly. “Over in the corner.” She pointed further back in the massive room. “My desk sits right outside the supervisor’s office.”

  “Mr. Malcolm.”

  “Yes.” Her smile widened slightly. “You’re starting to figure things out.”

  “I’m trying.”

  She inclined her head slightly, her eyes never leaving mine. That smile was threatening to break my heart. I watched her walk away, even leaning through the opening in the cubicle walls so I could see her a second longer.

  “I wouldn’t waste my time,” a male voice behind me said. “She doesn’t date people from work.”

  “Yeah?” I turned to find an Asian man leaning over the wall to the left of my desk. I held out my hand in greeting. “Peter Clark.”

  “John Ng.”

  That was one of the names on my list. I stood so that I could see into his cubicle, trying to be less than obvious about it as I took in the pictures in tiny frames and the odds and ends that covered his desk and shelves. He was clearly married. There were multiple pictures of him with a pretty blonde woman. The woman was wearing a wedding dress.

  “You know Heather well?”

  “We’ve worked together for more than three years, so, yeah, I suppose so.”

  “She seems nice.”

  “Really nice. But she also doesn’t suffer fools lightly, as my mother used to say.”

  “Oh?”

  “Last guy who looked at her the way you just looked at her found himself out of a job a week later. Mr. Malcolm will do just about anything Heather asks of him.”

  “And Malcolm runs this department.”

  “Yep. So I’d watch out, buddy.”

  John returned to his seat, sliding the headset back over his head. But no sooner did I turn to the computer than someone else popped up from one of the cubicles. I found myself telling my life story—or Peter Clark’s life story—more than a dozen times as the morning wore on. I met all three of my marks and learned before lunch that one of them—Kitty Summers—was contemplating a divorce because her husband was cheating on her. And this didn’t come from Kitty, but from Miss Johnson, the office gossip.

  I caught sight of Heather toward the end of the day, walking from the copy room to the break room. She glanced at me and that bemused smile came out again. The desire to get up and follow her around like a lovelorn puppy dog was almost too much to resist. But I was good. I stayed at my desk and inputted the sales information that arrived continuously all day.

  John popped up again just a few minutes before quitting time.

  “A group of us go to a local bar every night after work. You should come.”

  “Every night?”

  “Just for one or two drinks. Nothing big. Some of us stick around for dinner. Others go home to the wife and kids.”

  I nodded. “Sounds good.”

  “Cool. See you there.”

  John slid his headset off and walked away. I turned back to the computer, to input a few more sheets. But then Tish came around to my cubicle.

  “Don’t show off, temp. You don’t want to make the rest of us look ba
d.”

  “Wouldn’t want that.”

  I put my things away and stood. Tish slid her arm through mine, the blush on her cheek suggesting she was having something of a reaction to me like the one I’d had to Heather. I touched her hand, smiling down at her, wondering what she’d think if she knew the truth about me, the truth about why I was there. The truth that included the nightmares that woke me nearly every night.

  I wasn’t the catch she thought I was.

  Chapter 3

  Heather

  He was hot.

  I found it hard to remember what it was I was supposed to be talking about the whole time we were on the elevator. I should have told him about his lunch hour, about the daily schedule, and made sure he’d gone down to human resources and filled out all his paperwork. But somehow none of that crossed my mind. All I could think about was how well he filled out the clearly expensive suit he was wearing. What a temp was doing in such an expensive suit, I would probably never know. He probably had a sad story I didn’t want to know about. The last thing I needed was other people’s drama. But … damn, he was hot!

  And when he asked where I’d be …

  I couldn’t stop thinking about him all day. A part of me was hoping he’d come over for a conversation during the day, but he never did. So, when Miss Johnson once again asked me if I’d join the others at a local bar after work, I couldn’t help myself. Normally, I avoided those little get-togethers, but if he was going to be there, I couldn’t pass up the chance to learn a little more about him.

  I sat on the edge of a stool and watched from a little bit of a distance as the guys from the office tried to play darts. The only problem was most of them couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a guided missile.

  Peter glanced back at me, those blue eyes sliding over my legs before moving up to my face. His gaze was so heavy that it almost felt like a physical touch. And his smile made my insides quiver. I’d never known this sort of instant attraction before. It made me kind of want to do things I’d never done before. Like invite him over for a drink and whatever came after that.