Bad Boy Holiday (Bad Boy Inc. Book 6)

by Eve Langlais

  While the roof appeared empty, he still crouched upon arriving and scanned the area with his goggles. A camera would emit a slight heat signature because of the wiring. Just like a person would emit a much larger warm spot.

  The chance of running into anyone up here would be slim, though. This rooftop wasn’t set up for public use even though it had a heated surface for melting snow and ice. It never failed to astonish him how many building owners neglected this point of entry. The door, made of utility metal, had a plain lock that wasn’t even engaged.

  He checked for any wiring that would indicate an alarm of some kind. Nada.

  The target office was only a single flight down; however, he went down two more stories, noting the single camera watching. It rotated slow enough he could easily bypass its digital eye.

  Only when he reached the door on the first floor did he have to pause out of sight while he waited for the camera to swing. As it traversed slowly, he waited for his chance.

  He needed to distract from his true objective. When the camera went past, he picked the locked door and, when it clicked, shoved it open, triggering an alarm. He shut the door and then moved as quickly as he could up the stairs, hearing the door at the bottom of the stairwell open. The thump of boots indicated someone coming up the stairs. A man, judging by the deep timbre.

  “Nothing on the camera, but the security system shows the door opening and closing,” the guard said. “I don’t see anyone. Going to check inside.” As expected, the guard would do a full sweep of that level.

  He waited about thirty seconds, long enough for the guard to have started his search, before triggering the second-floor lock. On his way up to the third floor, he had to hide in the stairwell as the guard emerged more quickly than expected to check on the newest alarm.

  The moment the guard went into the floor below his, Mathias bolted back down and set off the first floor again before heading inside. He crossed the office space, barely noticing the display of interior decorating, intent on the Exit sign at the far end, locked and with a sign saying, Closed for Repair.

  He set off an alarm going through it and noticed the stairwell didn’t have the same security, with wires dangling where a camera should be. He saw no other signs of construction. This staircase went down one extra flight to the basement and the electrical panel for the building.

  Mathias pulled out a sealed plastic bag and tossed a few things on the floor. Syringe. Candy wrappers. A few cigarette butts. Making it seem someone had been squatting to do drugs as opposed to anything more nefarious.

  Only once he’d set a fake stage did he turn off the power. Lights off didn’t mean he was in the dark. His goggles filtered the shadows enough for him to navigate. He quickly went up the stairs to the top floor, an ear peeled in case the guard didn’t do as expected.

  The fact there was a guard at all surprised him. Why did a building of real estate and other home-related shit have a need for paid security?

  Why, indeed, he wondered as he noticed the lock on the third floor possessed an electronic keypad, unlike the others. It also still had juice. It obviously relied on a backup supply in case of a power failure.

  A good thing he’d brought more tools. The battery he’d brought, an 18-volt rechargeable for a drill, gave him some juice once he attached wires to it, then the lock. It shorted, probably setting off yet another alarm. But the guard wouldn’t pay attention to it given he had bigger problems. Right now, he was having to maneuver in the dark.

  Mathias entered the target area and was glad to see the power source didn’t extend to anything else inside. The camera above the door was dead, but it wouldn’t stay that way. He needed to move fast.

  The office appeared much like any other successful business with short carpet on the floors and many closed doors with gleaming plaques inscribed with names.

  He knew them all. After all, he’d done his research. Looked up the employees best he could and found them on social media, in government records. Everything appeared on the up and up. No criminal records. Nothing untoward to be seen, which to him rang false.

  Everyone working here seemed too perfect. Which probably explained why he’d been hired to go after the owner himself. The elusive Hugo Laurentian, who’d recently set up BBI Realty offices around the world. A man rarely seen in person.

  Originally, Mathias had planned to visit the guy in the Caribbean, which he called home, but he’d gotten a tip that Laurentian would be in town for Christmas with his wife, closing a deal on a chalet.

  Which chalet? And when would Laurentian be showing up to finalize the sale? Once Mathias got that information, he’d plan his next move.

  Despite his many violent skills, he wasn’t expected to kill anyone. On the contrary, the person who hired him simply wanted a package delivered. A small box with only a broken watch inside. He knew because he’d looked. Run it through a scanner to make sure he wasn’t carrying around some kind of radioactive bomb. Nothing about the watch or box set off any alarms. Meaning the gift was about the object itself. Given Hugo had lots of money, he was going to assume blackmail.

  Not his problem. His instructions were to deliver the box into Hugo’s hand. Easy money.

  None of the computers would load, the power still not having come back on. Even if they had, he didn’t have the time to hack one, plus add the fact no reputable company actually had any hard drives on site. They all relied on servers and clouds to save information. It should be noted he was more old school when it came to information gathering. He disliked the internet but used it if necessary. Problem being most of the world had moved away from hard copies. And their firewalls were getting better and better.

  He couldn’t find a single filing cabinet. Paper appeared scarce in this modern office. It wasn’t until he reached the reception area that he finally got a clue.

  A spiral-bound calendar sat on the surface with notes penciled in. Tuesday, pick up dry cleaning for Blake. Thursday, get Mom’s present. And then he saw it.

  Office Christmas party. What were the chances the owner of the company, who was planning to be in town, wouldn’t appear?

  The lights suddenly came on, and he quickly shut his eyes and shoved at his goggles. He remained crouched behind the reception desk. The security system, including the cameras, would have to be brought back online. He probably had a minute or two before that happened. He stood and began moving for the stairs he’d used to enter, only to freeze as he heard the distinctive beep as the alarm system came online and then, more astonishing, the sweeping red lights. Motion sensor beams, the kind he couldn’t hope to avoid.

  What the fuck? Did this company think their land deals were state secrets? And more importantly, how to get out without getting caught?

  He eyed the strobing lights and remembered the placement of the cameras on his way in. No way to hide his exit, which meant the company would be alerted as to an intruder, and he might have just screwed his mission. If the mysterious Mr. Laurentian heard, he might cancel his plans, and there went his easy money.

  There had to be a way out of here. He could only think of one. It involved subtly putting out a foot and triggering a motion sensor out of camera view. The guard would either have to turn off the alarm to investigate or chalk it up to more wonkiness and reset.

  No alarm sounded. Had it not sensed his foot? He poked it again, more thoroughly this time, through the red beam.

  Then he waited.

  It took that lazy fucker fifteen minutes to come looking. Mathias readied himself as he heard the lock to the main office door being disengaged. The person entered and jangled some keys. A second later, he heard the beep, beep, beep as they keyed in a sequence that removed the motion sensing beams.

  “Stupid glitching alarm system,” muttered a female voice. A familiar one.

  Could it be?

  He peeked around the counter’s edge, and there she was, dressed in yoga pants that clung to rounded thighs and a bubble butt, tossing a jacket on a chair. Her ribb
ed sweater, with its snowflake pattern, bunched just above the swell of her hips, filled out nicely by her chest.

  Shit, he was staring.

  He practically threw himself behind the barrier, his heart racing.

  His heart didn’t race.

  He had nerves of steel. Ice in his veins.

  A hard-on in his pants.

  Fuck.

  What was she doing here?

  She works here, dumbass.

  Obviously, but how did she get here so quickly? Surely there weren’t many buses running at two a.m.

  Lights flipped on, making it even harder to hide. It wasn’t easy to keep track of her, and yet he had a sixth sense of her location. Instinct had him crab-walking around the counter as she went behind it. A game of cat and mouse.

  Her phone rang. “Hello.” A pause. “I took a taxi and am at the office right now about to check.” She tapped a few keys, muttering, “Hold your horses and give me a second to see if the cameras caught anything.” Another pause of silence. “No, Norris didn’t come up with me. He’s still checking the first and second floors. Apparently, they were the ones that glitched out first. If you ask me, it’s that damned mouse I’ve been telling you about.” She was quiet for a second before chuckling. “Well, either it’s a mouse and we need an exterminator, or one of you jerks ate my last candy bar.

  “Yeah, yeah, sure you didn’t take it. Whatever,” she teased, her amused lilt making him wonder who she spoke to in such a friendly manner. “I’m going to hang up now because I need coffee and a donut. Make that two donuts.” The chair creaked as she rose, muttering, “Yes, I will call you if I see anything. Bye.” The phone hit the desk, and she walked away toward the break room he’d seen during his quick search.

  This was his chance to escape.

  Only as he stood, he saw her phone on the counter, screen unlocked since it hadn’t been inactive long enough.

  He couldn’t resist opening her contact list. Lifting his wrist, he only had to flex it to take pictures as he scrolled.

  He heard her singing and banging around. How long would it take to make her coffee?

  Not long enough. He closed the contact app and then sprinted for the nearest stairwell. He held the door to slow its closing and minimize the click as it latched. He paused to see if she’d notice. Heard nothing so he exited the same way he entered, heading for the rooftop and his rope. He untied it from the chimney and ran for the edge with it clipped to the harness he wore over his black outfit. As he swung over the gap to the next building, he waited to see if anyone noticed his presence and shouted.

  He hit the other building with his soft-soled shoes and then climbed up. Within ten minutes, he was back in his hotel room, masturbating as he imagined her eating the donut off his dick.

  Chapter Four

  It’s the most wonderful time of the year; unless you’re single and buying presents for yourself.

  He’s stalking me, was the first thing Blake thought when he walked in to the office lobby the next day. Of course it would be while she was fixing the Christmas garland hanging off the front counter, hand waving madly because of the tape that was stuck to it.

  His appearance caused a bit of a flutter. The handsome stranger had come looking for her. Flattering, or a sign he was a psycho? Even if the latter, it was still kind of sexy.

  But this was her place of work.

  Wrenching the ruined tape from her skin, she dropped it into the garbage pail, missed, then stepped on it, making a crinkling noise as she rounded the reception desk to intercept him. She ordered her flip-flopping tummy to ignore his slowly emerging smile. She also resisted the urge to bend over and wrestle some more with the tape that hated her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I would ask the same of you. What a surprise.”

  She focused on the lie to ignore the seductive quality of that granite countenance. “Please. We both know this isn’t a coincidence. I thought I made myself clear. I’m not interested.” She grabbed Mr. Handsome by the arm and steered him in the direction of the elevator.

  “I know you did, and yet, fate appears to have other plans.”

  She snorted. “You are not a guy to believe in fate.”

  “On the contrary, I do. Me running into you has to be karma.” He flashed a smile and a smoldering gaze that warmed her down to the toes.

  “No, it’s called being pushy. You can’t be here.”

  “And yet I am and getting the distinct impression you’re trying to get rid of me.”

  “What gave it away?” was her mocking rejoinder.

  “It seems you’re suffering from a misunderstanding.”

  “What’s to misunderstand? You don’t know how to accept no as an answer, which some women might find cute, but it gives me an urge to report you to authorities for harassment.”

  His brows rose. “Harassment? I’ve done nothing.”

  “You call being here nothing?”

  “I’m here because I have an appointment.”

  She gaped at him. “Wait a second, are you Larry Arbuckle?” Because he sure didn’t look the way she expected. A guy like him should have a name like Malcolm Steele or one like those famous models.

  “I am Mr. Arbuckle. Here to meet with Blake Jenners.”

  She felt all kinds of stupid for her accusation. “Ah shoot. I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed now.” Indeed, her cheeks heated, a surely lovely shade of tomato red. Some women looked coy and cute when they blushed. She appeared to be having an allergic reaction.

  To his credit he ignored the fact her face might explode. He smiled, looking perfectly put together, with every hair in place—a temptation that demanded ruffling—jaw smooth shaven, pea coat not holding a single speck of lint. “Perhaps as an apology, you’ll now have dinner with me.”

  The guy never stopped trying. “Still not interested.” She turned before he could see the lie. “Nor is it allowed because of company rules.” She led the way down a carpeted hall to a door missing a plaque.

  She didn’t knock before opening and knew what he’d see the moment he walked in: a modest-sized space with a wooden desk, a sideboard with a display of flowers, and a pair of chairs. Not the deep plush ones seen in the bigger offices. Not for the newest associate.

  Arbuckle glanced up the hall before following her inside. He inclined his head toward the empty chair behind the desk. “Is Mr. Jenners running late?”

  Just as she was about to correct Mr. Arbuckle, he turned and wandered to the wall to look at the degrees.

  She waited. Noticed his frown.

  “Hey, how is it that, according to the BBI Realty website, Mr. Jenners is listed as having been in the real estate game since being licensed in nineteen eighty-three. And yet this”—he jabbed a finger at the framed document on the wall—“is dated less than five years ago.” He spun as he finished asking.

  She took a seat behind the desk. “Because that’s my degree.”

  “You’re Blake Jenners?”

  “If I were a son, you’d add junior,” she remarked, hands folded in front of her.

  “I didn’t realize… None of the company info indicated he had a daughter.” His brow remained creased.

  “An error on our part. I’ve only recently begun working here for my dad. They haven’t updated the website yet.”

  “I see.”

  “Is working with me going to be a problem?” She kept her tone level and measured, as he continued to have a serious mien.

  “Yes,” he admitted finally.

  Before she could tell him to shove his misogyny, he said the one thing to steal her voice. “If we work together, then we can’t have dinner.”

  “On the contrary. We can have dinner. Lunch. Even breakfast if you like,” she sang with a smile. “We just won’t be doing anything other than eating and business.” No sleeping with clients. Ever.

  “Is that a dare?” he asked in a deep rumble.

  “Most certainly not.”

  “Maybe I should mention th
e fact I don’t always like to follow the rules.”

  “You will if you intend to do business with us.”

  “You mean do business with you.”

  “Are you incapable of seeing women as anything other than sex objects?”

  He coughed before managing a raspy, “I assure you it’s never been a problem before.”

  “Meaning what?” She suffered under no illusions. She was pretty, yes, but not a thin girl by any means. Not fat either, just padded all over. Big boned as they used to say.

  “Meaning there is something about you, Blake, that I find very intriguing.”

  She startled, mostly because he sounded surprised. As if he couldn’t figure it out either. “I’m sure you won’t think that once you get to know me.”

  “On the contrary, the more you talk, the more I find myself fascinated. And attracted.” His gaze wandered, and she squirmed in her seat.

  The man truly was too sexy for his own good.

  He was also trying too hard. It made no sense. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Arbuckle.”

  “Larry.”

  “Mr. Arbuckle,” she enunciated. “I take it by your continued insistence on flirting that we won’t be able to work together.” She stood. “I’ll see if I can find someone else to handle you.”

  “Don’t bother. I want you.”

  She knew he meant for real estate, and yet there was that stupid flutter again. “If you wish to hire me as your agent, then you’ll have to stop flirting.”

  “Why?” Again, he smiled, and the tingle spread.

  “Because it’s not appropriate.”

  “Not appropriate would be me kissing you.”

  Her lips rounded. Why did he have to suggest it? Her gaze went to his mouth. She mentally shook herself. “No kissing.”

  “Unless there’s mistletoe, then it’s kind of mandatory.”