Beneath Her Skin

by Beth Mikell

  An embarrassed laugh whistled out her lips, trying to forget the image Harry gave her of buying tampons in the grocery store. Some memories were worth forgetting. “Oh? And how’s that? How do I look at him?”

  Harry grunted. “Like he’s the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  Brooke’s cheeks flushed. “And how would you know that? I thought you swore off women.”

  “I swore off their shenanigans, not women,” he corrected. “Just because I didn’t marry one, didn’t mean I was immune to their charms. I’ve had my share of encounters. I was quite the ladies man in my day.” He winked, his chest puffing.

  She grimaced, feigning a loose smile. “I think this is heading into weird territory, Uncle Harry.”

  He grinned, but his smile faded equally fast. “You have a right to a life. If that means a fancy job and a guy, I’m okay with that. Don’t feel like you have to settle on a rundown business and an old fart as a companion.” She tried to protest, but he kept going, “I’m serious, Lady Bug. You go after your life and don’t let anyone stand in your way. I’ll always be here—me and this rundown shack Donnie and I put together. It was our dream and will be until I’m six feet under.”

  Sadness clouded her features. “Uncle Harry, please don’t say that. I can’t think of losing you.” Tears sparkled in her eyes, and fear trembled in her heart.

  He gathered her close, hugging her tight. “Brooke, I love you,” he whispered against her temple. “I’ll always be here.”

  They stood that way for a several minutes, and she absorbed his quiet strength and peppermint scent, praying he was right.

  ****

  Damon paced. Worry tipped his brow as he spoke with Kirk, his head of security. “What do you mean Bartley’s security team lost him?” Anger threaded his voice as his irritation rose.

  Kirk made an affirmative sound. “Our team tailed him home after drinks at a bar, and then he never made it out this morning. I sent a man to check the house, but he’s not there. No sign of a struggle either. He’s just gone.”

  “And no one stopped by his house?”

  “No one,” Kirk said. “It’s as if he vanished.” There was a slight pause. “Wait a minute. GPS tracking is coming in off Bartley’s phone now.”

  Damon could hear a few taps of the keyboard. “And?” he asked with barely leashed patience.

  “The signal is coming from an abandoned warehouse in northeast Washington, D.C.”

  Damon sighed, a terrible feeling settling in his gut. “He could be in trouble. Have his surveillance team head over there, but only engage if necessary. There’s no need to draw attention unless provoked. Keep me informed.”

  “Will do,” Kirk said.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Damon’s emotions spun out of control. Nothing was going right. Each moment threw him closer and closer to the gates of hell.

  ****

  As Uncle Harry went to ‘male-bond’ with Damon, his words, Brooke found an empty paper box. She wanted to clean out her office and take whatever personal items were there. She did have two hot air balloon figurines that Uncle Duck had given her before he passed away and a few clothes. When she opened the door, she paused, and a sense of pain stabbed her heart.

  She had grown up here.

  Walking inside the room, Brooke closed the door. She strode to the desk, running her hand over it. For years, she had done all her homework right here, while the men who had raised her gave hot air balloon rides. She hated the idea of leaving. Of moving on. But she had to.

  Harry was right. She needed to live her life, yet it was hard with so many unknown factors facing her. All week she had managed to stifle her excitement at the thought of finding her twin sister. Only imagining her, and what her life was like, made her nearly giddy.

  Did she cut the crusts off her bread too? Did she hate tomatoes like her? Did she love to fly? Or was she afraid of her own shadow?

  Endless questions evoked a tremble to rush through her veins. She hoped she found her soon.

  Grabbing a few picture frames, she stowed them in the box. Her locker was easy too, because she was never one for clutter. As she picked up a stack of jeans, she stilled. There was a cell phone and a note. Looking over her shoulder, she felt as though someone was watching her. But there was no one.

  She grabbed the note: If you are interested in discovering your past, call me.

  Her heart raced, and her breath pinched in her chest.

  A brief knock on the door made her jump as Harry poked his head in.

  “Lady Bug?”

  She couldn’t control her facial expression and he noticed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, pushing the door open, stepping inside.

  Damon stood behind him, and his eyebrows rose.

  “N-nothing,” she said, her mind racing. “It was a spider. You know how much I hate them.”

  Harry chuckled. “I know,” he said, thumbing behind him. “It’s about lunch time. Damon and I are going to pick up some lunch from the Grouchy Taco House, do you want your usual?”

  She nodded, trying to compose herself, yet her pounding heart made it nearly impossible. “Uncle Harry, I need to speak with Damon a moment.”

  He gave a small nod. “Take you your time. I need to go check the afternoon flight schedule.” He turned, walking out of her office. “I’ll be waiting out front,” he said to Damon and left.

  Damon strode closer, his sea-beauty eyes searching. “What’s wrong?”

  “Shut the door.”

  As he complied, she grabbed the phone and note, offering it his way. “I found this. I didn’t want Harry to know because he’ll worry.” She tried not to sound panicked, but her voice trembled and her lips quivered.

  He took the note, scanned it, and then looked at the phone. He powered it on. There were several beeps, and his hands flew over the buttons before he met her gaze. “We need to get you to a safe place,” he said, turning the phone her direction.

  A text message gleamed from the small screen: Not interested? What will it take? Your death?

  Brooke reached for the phone, but Damon yanked it out of reach. She gave an exasperated sound. “Give me that. Let me see what they want.”

  Shaking his head, he stowed the phone and note in his leather coat. “No way. If someone is threatening you, I will find out. This is the best way. I’ll have my security team check it out.” He kept going when she tried to protest, “If my team doesn’t find anything, I’ll consider letting you call them. We can’t just give in to their demands.”

  She let out an aggravated exhale. “You keep ‘handling’ everything, Damon. While I don’t want to sound ungrateful, I’m tired of being shoved aside,” she said, her fingers finding the hair at her ear, twirling.

  He jammed his hands in his front pockets, shaking his head. “It’s not like that.”

  Her ire rose with every breath. “Oh? And how would you label this latest development? The secret phone and the cryptic messages? A Sunday picnic? All I get from you is how you’ll look into things, but never a return conversation on your findings. I need to know what you’ve discovered.”

  His expression cooled considerably. “There’s nothing new, I promise.”

  She grunted, not believing him, ignoring his hard expression. “And my sister? Where exactly are you in finding her?”

  Damon’s jaw ticked and his eyes narrowed. “Given the situation as it is, do you really want to pull another person into this? Harry is already at risk.”

  Brooked closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “You’re right,” she said with a small sigh and met his gaze. “I didn’t think of that. God, I suck at this.”

  He moved closer, grasping her shoulders. “For whatever reason, you’ve been targeted, baby. I won’t take the chance by risking others. You have to trust me.”

  “But I’m tired of being out of the loop,” she countered. “I mean, if something happens to someone I love…” her words trailed off, her face dark
ening with a measure of pain.

  “And if something happens to you?” he asked, his hand caressing up to cup her cheek. He thumbed softly over her skin. “I don’t know who is doing this, but I will find out. I’ll make you safe again.” He drew her into his arms.

  Flush up against his body, Brooke soaked in his presence. She allowed him to carry the weight of this dilemma, wishing she could do more herself. But she was grateful Damon was here to shoulder the unknown.

  “Make me a promise,” he said, drawing back. His gaze was intense, feral even.

  “What?”

  “No chances. If someone is baiting you for whatever their agenda, you can’t take any chances with your life. I have to know that you understand this.”

  “I promise,” she said.

  Damon sighed. “Do you think you can convince Harry to eat at the restaurant? I don’t want you out of my sight.”

  A slow grin curved her lips. “Maybe. I have him wrapped around my little finger.” She held up her pinkie and wiggled it.

  He grasped her finger and smoothed a kiss over her skin.

  She gasped as heat shot up her arm. “Damon…” Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. He knew how to captivate her, even during something as serious as death threats.

  “I hate to break this to you,” he rasped, “but you, my dear, have us all wrapped around this finger,” he said, kissing her finger again.

  A soft giggled slid through her lips. “That’s so cheesy,” she said, snatching her finger away from his grasp before things turned hot and heavy.

  He grinned. “Really? I was going for romantic.” He wagged his eyebrows up and down.

  Brooke found him entirely swoon worthy. God help her.

  Chapter 9

  The threat on Brooke’s life was real. Hard breaths pinched in Damon’s chest as he listened to Kirk summarize his findings on the burner phone.

  Outwardly, he tried to maintain a calm demeanor for her sake, but he squeezed her hand to be sure she was still beside him. As the situation expanded, the more he floundered in the unknown source of danger to her life. It was real and getting deeper. Short of locking her away at S-Tec, he did not know what else to do.

  “I researched the text message,” Kirk said, pushing up his glasses on his nose before threading a hand through his spiky red-blond hair. “I was able to triangulate the text’s origination. It came from Washington, D.C, but the source is closed and not a registered user. Most likely, it came from another burner phone.”

  “Does that mean if I call it, no one will answer?” Brooke asked.

  Damon’s head of security gave a curt nod. “Yes, ma’am. No signal means no receiver. Whoever planted this in your office was probably expecting you to call before now. If you don’t mind,” he said, looking to his boss, “I’d like to keep this phone to monitor it. If any activity happens, I’ll notify you at once.”

  Damon gave his approval and ushered Brooke from the security center at S-Tec.

  A frown creased his brow as she leaned up against the outside wall, closing her eyes.

  He drew close, his hands descending on her shoulders. “Hey, this is good news,” he whispered, waiting patiently until her gaze met his. A turbulent force hit his stomach as he searched her expression. She was scared. Fear blazed behind her lavender gaze. And he would do anything to make her feel secure.

  Brooke shook her head. “I don’t see it, Damon. Someone is definitely threatening me and I have no clue why. It’s not as if I have anything.”

  Another opening to tell her the truth unfolded, but he kept silent. He would not destroy her blooming trust of him. No, not yet.

  He massaged her shoulders, working up to her neck, smoothing his fingers gently over her skin. “As long as you stay here, I can keep you safe.”

  She snorted. “But for how long? I can’t stay here forever.”

  His eyes narrowed. “For as long as it takes,” he said, his voice gruff. “Whoever is doing this can’t get to you here.”

  “Fine, but no more secrets,” she murmured. “I can deal with my lack of freedom, but I want to be clued in if there is another development.”

  He wanted to swallow back his next lie, but impossible. “Of course.” He leaned closer, her delicate scent swirling through his nose. “Take no chances, baby.” His lips almost touched hers until Kirk interrupted.

  “Um… Mr. Sinclair,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to speak with you about some… transponders.”

  Brooke gave a soft smile, stepping away. “Go. I’m headed back up to my apartment.”

  “I’ll stop to check on you later,” he said, waiting until the elevator doors closed before looking at Kirk with a raised eyebrow. “Transponders?”

  Kirk flushed. “Sorry. That’s all I could come up with on short notice.” He shrugged. “I’m an IT guy, not a performer.”

  Damon sighed with irritation. “What is it?”

  “The team following Bartley called in,” he said with a grim expression.

  “And?”

  “He’s dead. They called it in to police,” Kirk said in a grave tone. “Our guys said he was shot execution style. The local police are on it.”

  Damon’s fists clenched at his side. “Where are you with Bartley’s background check? Anything substantial?” Not that he believed so, especially if the guy had been murdered.

  Kirk shook his head. “He was clean. He was a bit of a strip club enthusiast and a heavy drinker, but no large deposits. Bartley had more outgoing funds, rather than incoming. He was a business as usual kind of man.”

  “And the forty thousand withdrawal from Brooke’s inheritance?” Damon asked. “Any hit on where it ended up?”

  “Still checking, but nothing so far. It’s bounced everywhere from Mexico to Afghanistan. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to hide it, but I’ll find it.”

  Damon tugged at his shirt collar, inclining his head. “I’ll be waiting.” He left the security floor and headed to his office.

  A million thoughts wove around his mind. He was no closer to discovering who was doing this. Now Bartley was dead? There had to be tie-in and she was upstairs in his executive apartment.

  There was no way he could trouble Brooke with this new development. She would only worry and ask more questions he wasn’t willing to explain.

  As he strode into his office, Damon headed straight for his wet bar. He needed a double dose of something. He poured two fingers of bourbon. The burn helped, but he needed more. Tipping the bottle, he measured out another portion.

  From the deep recesses of his mind, a stray reminder hit him.

  He stilled mid-swig, lowering his glass with a curse on his lips.

  It wasn’t random that Jim Bartley was killed today.

  Damon glanced at his watch, wincing. A dark pang hit him in the gut, making his heart shudder under the pressure.

  Today was his wedding anniversary. Coincidence? He didn’t think so. Grabbing the bourbon bottle, he knew tonight would kick his butt with memories and he needed a ‘friend’ to chase the demons.

  ****

  As Brooke made her way upstairs, her phone rang. She pulled her device from her purse, glancing at the caller ID. Jennifer. Her friend started speaking before she could say ‘hello.’

  “Hey, baby doll. How are you? How’s Hottie Sinclair?”

  “He’s fine,” Brooke replied, not really in the mood to discuss him.

  There were no words to describe the latest development, regarding the burner phone, she found at Ascent, but she didn’t feel like discussing it, especially over the phone. Someone had threatened her life. The feeling left her off kilter. How was she supposed to process that? She was used to making her own decisions, not hiding.

  “What’s up with you?” she asked her friend, hoping a subject change would end any Q and A.

  Jennifer blew out a breath. “I met a guy.”

  “Who? What’s his name?” she asked as she entered her apartment.

&n
bsp; Her friend giggled. “Here’s the kicker. We didn’t share names.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah. When I told him my latest run with guys, he suggested we should take things slow and get to know each other. Wasn’t that sweet of him?”

  Brooke frowned, plopping down on her sofa. “But names are important, Jen. You don’t know who this guy is or what he’s after.”

  “He’s nerdy. How dangerous can he be?” She sighed. “Anyway, we are supposed to go to the movies tonight, then coffee afterwards. I don’t think he’s gonna try anything.”

  “Still…” her words trailed off, wanting to caution her friend based on all her life drama, but Jennifer had a sense about people. However, anyone might question her ‘man’ choices. So far, they had not been wise. Skydiver Mike came to mind.

  “Just be careful,” Brooke said. “Stay in public areas until you get to know him better.”

  “I will. Don’t worry.” Her friend gave another laugh. “I’ll call and give you all the deets.”

  As their call ended, Brooke settled down to some of the files from her office. It was a bit tedious to consider working now, but boredom played tag with her nerves. She needed something to do and working would help alleviate her stress for the time being.

  After her eyes crossed for the fifth time, Brooke glanced at the clock. It was near nine at night. Wow. She had no idea where the time had gone.

  She sat up straighter, rolling her shoulders. Tension had stiffened her joints. In the back of her mind, she wondered why Damon had not checked on her. Maybe he was avoiding her—and maybe that was for the best. They had a tendency to burn hot for each other and the less time they were together—the less likely, they were to give into their feelings.

  She glanced back at the report. It was a new aviation design that had taken her by surprise. Some of the engineering ideas were innovative, but she knew there had to be another file because all she had were the meeting transcripts. Maybe she had left it on her desk. Well, one benefit of working so close to her office, she could pop down and get the file.