A Soldier's Honor (The Riley Code Book 1)

by Regan Black

  He shook his head. “The bears are for my business partner who is expecting a set of twins in a couple months and the scotch is...”

  “To ensure that they all get a few hours of sleep?” she said, finishing his sentence.

  “No. For my other business partner, who is getting married early next month.”

  “I see. Well, good wishes to them all. Does it rain like this every day?”

  “Only for a couple weeks out of the year,” he said. “Where are you from?”

  “California. Near Carmel.”

  He’d spent a few weeks driving Route 1 along the coast a few years back. “Nice place,” he said.

  “I suppose,” she said, not sounding convinced.

  “First time in Vegas?”

  “Third.”

  “What brings you here?”

  “Business,” she said.

  She was the queen of one-word answers. “Not the gambling.”

  She laughed. “My business is enough of a gamble.”

  That made him curious. But before he could ask, she glanced at her watch and said, “I think I’m going to have to make a run for it.”

  Wait. It almost came out of his mouth. But that was crazy. “Good luck,” he offered instead.

  She gave him a dazzling smile. And took off fast. In the opposite direction of where he was going.

  And seconds later, his own steps back to his office were slower, even though he was getting really wet. She’d taken her energy and maybe some of his with her.

  When he got to the Wingman Security offices ten minutes later, he was still thinking about the woman. About how fast she talked. About the color of her eyes.

  He opened the door, waved at Jane behind the reception desk, who was on the phone, and quickly walked down the hallway to his office. He shoved his purchases into the credenza behind his desk. He had a lot of work to do before tonight’s party. His first appointment after lunch was due in fifteen minutes.

  He took a seat behind the desk, which was almost entirely covered by piles. Files to review, security-related white papers to read, personal bills to pay and his laptop computer.

  He glanced up when a shadow passed by his door. “Hey,” he said.

  Royce Morgan stepped into view. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were back. You’re soaked,” he said.

  Right down to his underwear. “Get any sleep last night?” he asked.

  Royce shrugged, not looking that concerned. “Couple hours. Grace and I got some quality bonding time in the middle of the night.”

  Royce’s seven-month-old daughter was teething. “Is she your date for tonight?”

  “Yeah. Jules doesn’t get back from New York until this weekend.”

  How Jules managed motherhood and being the CEO of a large pharmaceutical company was beyond him, but she seemed to do it effortlessly. Royce had really lucked out there.

  As had his other two partners. Trey Riker had married Kellie McGarry last fall and his tux was ready in his closet for when Rico Metez and Laura Collins got hitched next month.

  Then he’d be the only bachelor left at Wingman Security.

  Fine with him.

  “Don’t let her drink too much,” he said.

  Royce shook his head. “She has to be at least two before she can have a cocktail.”

  Seth laughed. Royce was a supergood dad. Not that any of them had had any doubts.

  “You got a date for tonight?” Royce asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Still between prospects?”

  That’s how he’d explained his dating situation a few weeks ago when he, Royce, Trey and Rico had gone out for a few beers. “I’m not looking,” he said. “I think it’s good if one of us stays single. We don’t want to cut ourselves out of a key demographic.”

  “Which is?”

  “Single woman looking for protection. They aren’t going to want one of you married types.”

  “You don’t tell single clients that, do you?” Royce asked in response, perfectly serious.

  Seth knew his partners thought he could be a little blunt sometimes. He preferred to think of it as being a direct communicator. “Not unless they ask,” he said.

  “Marketing strategies should always be a secret.”

  Seth held a finger up in the air. “I knew I should have gone to business school. All I cared about was trying to keep my ass from getting shot out of the sky.”

  Royce laughed and disappeared from view down the hallway. Five minutes later, Seth’s desk phone buzzed. It was Jane, telling him that his appointment had arrived. He checked the name again on his phone calendar.

  Abigail Chevalier. Some thirty years ago, her mother and Kellie McGarry’s mother had been sorority sisters. That connection was enough that she’d been able to land a spot on Seth’s calendar with barely twenty-four hours’ notice.

  When he got to the lobby, his potential new client was staring out the window. She turned as he approached. She was short, with short blond hair tucked behind her ears, and very pregnant.

  “Would you like a chair?” he said quickly.

  She shook her head. “It’s easier to stand at this point. More room for the baby, you know?”

  He didn’t know. And maybe that’s why he was uneasy. Or maybe it was because there was something about Abigail Chevalier that seemed familiar. But he was pretty confident they’d never met.

  He led her back to his office and pointed at the chair. “Sit or stand. Your preference.” He went behind his desk and sat. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Chevalier?”

  “Please, just Abigail. I’ve only been married for four months so I’m still getting used to the name. My maiden name of North was a little easier. Anyway, I’m rambling. I do that when I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be nervous,” he said.

  “I need security.”

  She’d chosen to stand, but because she couldn’t be much over five feet, he didn’t have to look up too far. “For yourself?” The idea that a pregnant woman might need security spiked all kinds of protective emotions in him.

  “For my sister, Megan North. She was supposed to meet me here but she’s running a little late. Her meeting at the bank ran long.”

  “Why does your sister require security?”

  “Megan and I are not just sisters, we’re also business partners. We’ve purchased an existing small chain of high-end women’s boutiques. Four locations in total. The Vegas store is right across the street from here.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. He knew the place. Hadn’t paid too much attention to it, but it had interesting window displays at times of sexily dressed mannequins. And he recalled a story where his partner Trey had picked out a red sparkly dress for Jules Morgan when she and Royce were undercover in Vegas. Rumor had it that Royce’s jaw had dropped. “Four locations,” he repeated. “Where are the others?”

  “Sedona, Arizona. Albuquerque, New Mexico. Colorado Springs, Colorado. In Vegas, we were able to purchase the building, and in the other locations, we’re renting space. We’re rebranding the properties and reopening all four as North and More Designs.”

  “Very exciting,” he said.

  “Yes. But I’m due in five weeks and my doctor isn’t crazy about me traveling, and that’s all my new husband, who is very French and very protective, had to hear. He insists that I not go. But that means that Megan is going to have to do the openings herself.”

  It sounded like a good reason to hire an assistant, not necessarily a security specialist whose bill rate was $2,500 a day. “Wingman Security might not be—”

  “There was another potential buyer in the mix,” she said, interrupting him. “We beat their bid and we understand they’re not too happy about it.”

  Probably not. Nobody liked to lose. But still. “You’re anticipating that they’ll transfer this unhappiness into action against your sister.”

  “Not her,” she said. “I don’t think they’re that crazy. Thank goodness. But possibly against the properties and
the events associated with the reopening of the properties. They’ve been the losing party before and while it was never proven, most of us in the industry think they had some responsibility for a fire that consumed their competitor’s warehouse.”

  Well, that put a different spin on things. “Reopening four stores in four states,” he said. “Over what time period?” He had to be here for Rico’s wedding.

  “The next twelve days. We’ll be done by the end of the month.”

  That would work. Rico’s wedding was the first weekend of next month. “Has the travel been booked?”

  “Hotels, yes.”

  “Air travel?” That’s what he’d meant.

  “All travel will be done by car. Megan doesn’t fly.”

  He felt the first shiver of unease. Flying was like breathing to him. But he didn’t want to disappoint Kellie McGarry by refusing to help a family friend or turn away good business. “I’ll get somebody started on the contract,” Seth said. He got up from his desk at the exact moment his intercom buzzed. “Yes,” he said.

  “Megan North is here to see you.”

  “Oh, good. She made it,” Abigail said.

  “Thanks, Jane,” he said. “Bring her back, would you?”

  Abigail Chevalier waved her index finger to get his attention. “I probably should have mentioned this,” she said, her voice a mere whisper, “but Megan isn’t too happy about this.”

  And before he could ask why, in walked the brunette he’d stood in the rain with.

  * * *

  Megan suspected she looked every bit as stunned as Seth Pike. “Hello again,” she said, working hard to sound nonchalant. She barely made eye contact, instead focusing on her younger sister.

  “Hi, Abigail,” she said, taking one of the empty chairs. She wasn’t surprised to see her sister standing. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” her sister said. “No different from when you asked me two hours ago.” She said it without angst. She knew Megan worried. And tried to be a good sport about it. She was sweet like that.

  But under all that sweetness was a rip current of manipulation, Megan had realized, when two days ago, her sister had no trouble using Megan’s concern to her advantage to get Megan to agree to hiring security.

  Megan had been excited to be away from Carmel, away from the craziness that had permeated her life for the last few months. The craziness that nobody else had heard, seen or believed, especially the police. The craziness she hid from Abigail.

  The way her life had been going lately, she should not have been the least surprised that it was Seth Pike she’d shared a dry spot with earlier that afternoon. Coincidences, both alarming and not, seemed to abound lately.

  “Mr. Pike,” she said, extending her hand to him. He was still standing by the side of his desk. His shirt and pants were drying but he looked as if he could use a good iron. “Good to see you didn’t melt.”

  “Oh, I’m not that sweet,” he said.

  No, but he was a bit of eye candy. Lean and tall, but not too tall. Probably just under six feet. His dark brown hair was cut short and he had very light brown eyes. His skin was tanned.

  “Ms. North, I presume,” he said.

  “Please, just Megan. After all, we have history.”

  Abigail looked at Seth, then Megan. “Do you two know each other?”

  They both shook their heads. Megan turned to her sister. “Earlier today, I got caught in the rain. As did Mr. Pike.”

  “Seth,” he said.

  “As did Seth. We shared a canopy before I had to dash to the bank. Which, by the way, went well.”

  “Good,” Abigail said.

  “Now that I see the two of you together, the resemblance is definitely there,” he said.

  She was six years older, seven inches taller, and had dark hair. But she understood. Their eyes were the same shape and almost the same color. They both had their mom’s smile and their dad’s long fingers. “Most people don’t see it,” she said.

  “I have always taken some pride in not being most people,” he said.

  There was a pregnant, no pun intended, pause in the room. Megan looked from her sister to Seth Pike. “So, did you two get the details all worked out?” She tried hard to keep the irritation out of her voice.

  “I think I’ve got the basics,” Seth said. “You and I will need to work out some of the finer logistics. Which should not be as painful as your last root canal,” he added.

  Ouch. Maybe she wasn’t doing that good of job of keeping her feelings at bay. “Of course,” she said.

  “Two rooms have already been booked,” Abigail said. “Our assistant did that weeks ago when I thought I’d still be able to go.”

  “Excellent. If you’ll give me your email address, I’ll send over the contract this afternoon.” Seth pushed a piece of paper her direction and held out his pen.

  Once the contract was signed, it would be too late. This was her last chance to put a stop to this nonsense. She could find another way to give Abigail peace of mind.

  She stood up. “Actually, Seth. I—”

  Copyright © 2018 by Beverly R. Long

  Geek girl Lexi Carmichael thought getting engaged would mean calmer days ahead. But when her fiancé’s past brings up more questions than answers, she’s not going to let anything—or anyone—drive them apart.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at No Stone Unturned by Julie Moffett.

  No Stone Unturned

  by Julie Moffett

  If my mom texted me a picture of my own engagement ring one more time, I was going to lose it.

  Apparently she was trying to send them to her best friend, Candi Schmidt, but Mom and her new phone were still coming to an understanding, so she’d texted me the same picture seven times in the last five minutes. It was my picture to start with, and I’d only sent it to her after she bugged me for a week, threatening that if she didn’t get a photo, she’d post an engagement announcement on my behalf in the Washington Post. That horrified me enough to snap a photo of my ring and send it to her. Unfortunately she now wanted to share it with all her friends, which essentially meant the entire greater DC area. I had seriously been considering hacking her phone so it went exactly nowhere, but it seemed that wasn’t necessary. For now, I gritted my teeth and tried to be happy that the photo was coming back to me, over and over, instead of to her ginormous circle of friends.

  My phone dinged again, but I ignored it. Mom was just excited for me, but she was telling everyone about my engagement, while I’ve struggled with telling anyone, even close friends and family. Her enthusiasm was starting to make me feel weird about the mixed-up feelings I was having about getting engaged. I’m a geek girl who loathes attention, and telling people that Slash and I are engaged inevitably leads to screams, hugs, and a thousand questions about a wedding I haven’t even thought about yet. The stress was getting so acute that not even reciting Frederich Karl Gauss’s Theory of Reciprocity could take the edge off my social anxiety.

  My name is Lexi Carmichael and my life was a bit weird even before I got engaged. My fiancé and I are both uberhackers—me for a private cyber intelligence company called X-Corp and Slash for the NSA. His nickname is short for backslash in hacker lingo, and only a few people know his real name because of the covert nature of his intelligence work. He’s recently taken a much more visible position, and is now the youngest director of the Information Assurance Directorate in NSA history, followed around the clock by his own special Secret Service detail.

  My own job isn’t exactly lacking in excitement either. X-Corp is based in DC, but despite the virtual nature of my job, I travel a lot to secure my clients’ assets. I used to think that being an expert in cybersecurity meant a safe, quiet job behind a desk. I’ve discovered that couldn’t be farther from the truth. It’s a new world out there, and security is more often than not managed by strokes on a keyboard. Since humans are often the weak link in cybersecurity, I’ve had to do considerable work with people to k
eep data safe and secure. All that means both Slash and I are at the forefront of protecting national security, as well as business interests. It sometimes puts a strain on our relationship, but we decided to take it to the next level and commit ourselves to each other anyway.

  At this particular moment, national security wasn’t even on my radar. Instead I was focused on the engagement party Slash had informed me was inevitable. As the news of our engagement filtered out, our friends and family wanted to see us in person to congratulate us and see the new house we’d recently moved into together. Although we’d planned the party for this Friday, I was obsessing and stressing because this would be the first one I’d ever thrown in my own house. Slash was helping, which meant we were muddling along, trying not to kill each other in the process.

  “Do we really have to allow people to bring a guest?” I asked him for the third time, studying the spreadsheet while chewing on the eraser at the top of my pencil. We were sitting at the counter with mugs of coffee and a printed spreadsheet of all the things we had to do for the party. I’d carefully divided the spreadsheet into three parts—my responsibilities, Slash’s jobs and our joint tasks. Inviting people was part of our joint-task column, so here we were, hammering it out.

  He glanced up from the spreadsheet and my breath caught in my throat. He was unquestionably the best-looking guy I’d ever dated. Okay, he was pretty much the only guy I’d ever dated seriously. Still, when he spoke with his sexy Italian accent and gazed at me with his deep brown eyes, all logic left my brain. I knew that sometimes he used that to his advantage.

  His mouth quirked slightly at the corner, probably because he could see the glazed look coming into my eyes. Yep, Seduction 101, that’s exactly what he was doing. Even though I was fully aware of it, it was still working.

  “Your brothers have girlfriends, right?” he replied. “Guest plus one is standard.”

  “Who cares about plus one?” I groused. “I don’t even know who their girlfriends are this week.”

  He didn’t respond, so I let out a loud huff of annoyance before reluctantly adding two extra people as the unknown guests of my brothers. “We’ve already got sixteen people, including my parents. “It’s too many guests. We’ll never fit them all.”