“My mother’s Russian. I grew up outside Moscow and moved to the States when I was fifteen,” John responded.
Connor reached for the T-shirt he had discarded and pulled it over his head. “Congrats on being champion.”
“Thank you.”
He rooted around in his bag and pulled out his cell, then tapped at the screen. “I have a meeting in Jersey, so I should probably head out.” He toyed with his phone another second before looking up at me. “Walk with me?”
Oh God. He was saving me. “Is that okay?” I asked Declan, knowing he’d say yes. He needed to make Connor happy to get him to agree to the deal.
A deal that apparently involved selling an advanced weapon to terrorists.
“Sure.” Declan nodded at me and focused his attention on John. “Get changed. I don’t have all day to kick your ass. I have meetings, too.” He laughed.
“You’ve never beaten me. And you never will.” John cracked his knuckles but kept his eyes on mine.
Chills dashed up my spine, and I averted my eyes to the floor again, worried that John’s friends would call me out. All would be lost. But I was equally anxious that I’d lose control and lunge at the men—claws out, ready to kill.
“You ready?” Connor slung his bag over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to steady my breath, to hide my heaving chest.
“Enjoy your night off.” Declan reached for a water bottle before switching his attention to Connor. “Can you make a decision by tomorrow?”
“I’ll let you know,” Connor was quick to reply, his voice steady.
I shuffled past John and his men, avoiding eye contact, and released a breath once outside the boxing area. “Thanks for saving me. I didn’t feel like hanging out in a room full of egos and testosterone.” Or having my cover blown.
“Of course.” We started past the free weights, passed a row of treadmills, and stopped outside the ladies’ locker room.
I was hanging on by a thread, my sanity at the threshold. “How come you haven’t told Declan that you’ll make the deal?” I moved out of the way for a woman to enter the locker room and stepped back closer to him once she was gone.
I needed to tell him the truth.
“Having second thoughts. Not a fan of getting into bed with strangers.”
Because he was a good guy. Well, except for when he screwed me over. “I’d better shower.” The words rolled off my tongue by some small miracle.
“You’re off tonight.” He slung the weight of his bag behind him and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Maybe we can get together?”
My heart started flapping like it had grown wings. “Another business dinner? We got interrupted at our last meal.”
“I have a friend coming in from out of town tomorrow, and I’ll be tied up for the next few days. I might swing by the club at some point and let Declan know my decision, but I’d like to see you tonight if that’s okay.”
“Why?” I didn’t mean for the little three-letter word to slip from my lips, but it came out before I could clamp my mouth shut.
He took a step back from me and removed his hands from his pockets. “I have no idea why to be honest.”
What was I supposed to say? “I was going to grab dinner with a friend tonight.” A big fat lie. “But maybe I can change my schedule around. Can you call me later? I’ll let you know.”
He frowned as he programmed my number into his phone. “We shouldn’t see each other, right?” His doubts mirrored my own. But my reasons for holding back were so much bigger, and he had no idea.
“I don’t know.” I sighed and touched my neck. It was impossible to think clearly, knowing those men were still so close.
“You okay?” Connor’s hand was now on my arm.
“I’m just thinking about my sister,” I said, and it felt good to be honest for once.
My skin grew cold at the loss of his touch. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s okay.” Lie. Lie. Lie. “I’d better shower.”
I needed to cool off, to strip away the pain, anger, and fear that crawled beneath my skin.
Before he could say anything else, I shoved open the locker room door and disappeared inside.
Connor
“Just sent you some photos. They aren’t the best. I had to snap them fast and without notice.” I leaned against my kitchen counter and stared out the window, which offered a view of Central Park. A light mist of rain had started.
“Who are they?” Jake asked.
“The one in the middle is John Jackson, a pro-fighter. All three had Russian accents. Can you see what you can find out about them?” I moved to my fridge and grabbed a beer. I’d spent ninety minutes in traffic and had decided to head home instead of back to the office.
“I’ll do my best. The picture quality isn’t great, but maybe this Jackson guy has prints on file, and I can cross reference his name to any known associates.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“I looked into Lauren Tate’s background.”
“And?”
“She’s clean. Born and raised in New York. Her father is a construction worker, and her mother never worked. She graduated from Rutgers with an undergrad in business law and finished her MBA August 2015, right before she started working at Matthews Tech. She has no record. Not even a parking ticket.”
I took a sip of my dark wheat beer and processed what he’d said. I was having a hard time believing Lauren was legit. “She always lived in New York?” I probed.
“Born and raised. Her parents are native New Yorkers, as well.”
“Then her background is bullshit.” I set my beer down and pressed my palms to the counter. “She has an accent. It slips out every once in a while.”
“She’s trying to hide an accent?”
“I asked her about it, and I think she lied to me.”
“Do you think you’re just paranoid?” he tested.
I stood up straight, pinching my shoulder blades together. “No. If she wasn’t so damn up, close, and personal with Declan, then maybe I would let it slide.”
“What type of accent?”
“Russian, maybe.”
“Shit. That can’t be a coincidence.”
I reached for my drink again, needing to cool my brain before it overheated. “Why would Declan even want me to meet those guys?”
“I don’t know.”
This was giving me a headache. “When’s your flight? We can talk more about this in person.”
“My flight leaves Dallas at nine. I should be at LaGuardia around noon.”
“I’ll pick you up. Text me when you land.”
“Sounds good.”
“Thanks for coming. See you tomorrow.” I tossed the burner phone I’d bought in Jersey on the couch and brought the beer to my lips. How much did Olivia know about Declan? Although my judgment was clouded by both anger and by lust, I wanted to protect her, even if she was on the wrong side.
I dug into my pocket for my regular cell and scrolled through my contacts.
Olivia Taylor. I still didn’t understand why she wasn’t going by Olivia Scott. She mentioned fudging her resume, but why her name? There had to be more to the story, and I planned to find out.
A half hour later, I parked my car in the garage around the corner from her apartment building. The clouds opened up, and I was hammered with rain as I made my way down the street to her building.
I pushed my wet hair off my face with both hands, shaking my head like a damn dog.
I impatiently waited in the empty lobby outside the set of elevators. I shook my T-shirt and was thankful it wasn’t drenched. The rain had only started to pound onto the street just as I closed in on her building. I didn’t want to make it a habit of needing to strip and have my clothes dried every time I was around Olivia.
Once inside the elevator, I pressed my hands to the wall and shut my eyes.
Part of me hoped Olivia wouldn’t be home. I needed to talk to her, and yet I kn
ew it was such a bad idea to be going back to her place. My mind spun with all I wanted to say. A knot formed in my stomach, the kind I used to get when I was positioned on a rooftop in Iraq or a mountain in Afghanistan, my brow sweating as I peered through the scope—waiting. Watching.
What was it about Olivia that had me feeling like I was in the middle of a war?
I opened my eyes at the sound of the elevator doors popping open, and I attempted to ease the tension from my neck as I walked to her room.
At her door, I hesitated for a moment, my fist hanging in the air. I could hear music playing inside her apartment. Was she alone?
I never got the chance to knock. The door opened, and I dropped my hand to my side.
Olivia leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms. “I thought you were going to call.” She fought the smile that threatened her lips. “Were you so confident I’d rearrange my dinner plans for you?” There was the feisty personality I remembered from our youth—and God did I love it.
“Of course,” I responded and tipped my head down a little, but kept my eyes on hers.
Her cheeks bloomed to echo the red of her T-shirt, and she stepped back, allowing me entrance.
I pulled the door closed and followed her into the living room. “Was there ever a dinner?” I challenged.
She approached her iPad on the coffee table and lowered the music. “Maybe,” she said as she flashed her dimples. “Why are you here?” Her mood shifted pretty damn fast, and an underlying edge cut through her voice. “I thought you said seeing each other was a bad idea. You’re confusing me.”
I was confusing myself. “We should talk.”
“About?” She remained standing a few feet in front of me, just inside the living room by the coffee table, with her arms folded in defiance across her chest.
“I want to talk to you about your job.”
Her forehead creased, and her lips parted a fraction. No sound.
“This deal with Declan may not be legal, and I’d hate to see you get caught up in the middle of it all,” I confessed, although I couldn’t outright tell her all my concerns. She’d betrayed me in the past, and I wasn’t certain she wouldn’t do it again, even though my gut was telling me she was innocent.
“So, you decided not to do the deal?”
Was that relief? Her face changed to a blank slate before I could be sure. “I am doing the deal, but I don’t think you should be involved. It seems risky, and I’m getting the vibe that Declan’s business partners may not be on the up and up. But my father’s company might fail without a partnership with Declan . . .”
I hated lying to her, but I couldn’t open up. Not yet, at least.
“Which would be worse—handing over an unsuccessful company or a jail sentence?” she spat, but then covered her face with her hands for a brief moment. “Sorry. I’m supposed to be on Declan’s side.”
Supposed to be on Declan’s side? What did that mean?
She shook her head and steepled her hands together, her fingertips brushing against her lips. “Connor. I’m an adult. I’m capable of making my own decisions. Is that the only reason you came here?”
No. My damn body ached to simply be near her. “Olivia, you shouldn’t be working for Declan. You’re better than that.” I didn’t mean to say being a personal assistant wasn’t a good job, but—with Declan? “You were preparing to rule the world when we were young. You were going to be a lawyer. Hell, a senator. Or more.” I took a step closer to her, and she attempted a step back, but bumped into the table. Her palms rubbed against her jeans as her eyes focused on the floor.
“Things change.”
Of course—her sister. This wasn’t what her sister would have wanted for her, but who was I to say? And who was I to remind her of that pain?
“What about you, Connor? Are you the man you always wanted to be?” She looked down at my hand, which was now on her arm, and I tugged her close to me. I tipped her chin up and pulled her gaze to mine. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve been adrift for a long time,” I remarked, a painful honesty slicing through my words.
“Why’d you join the Marines? What happened to you?”
I released my hold on her and exhaled sharply before moving past her and into her kitchen. “Got anything to drink?”
“Connor,” she followed after me, “you haven’t changed, have you? Always sidestepping the big issues.”
I spun around, practically pinning her to the counter in the galley kitchen. My hands braced the granite top on each side of her, and her chest rose and fell enough to give her away.
“Connor.”
My eyes narrowed on her as I angled my head, listening. “Do you hear the song playing?”
She nodded as she rolled her tongue over her teeth. We were so close I could almost feel her body quiver.
“Do you remember?”
“How could I forget?” She touched my arm and moved it, scooting free from me. “This song played the first night I finally agreed to dance with you.” She grabbed a beer from the fridge and tossed it at me. “I didn’t have a clue how to dance to house music. But you insisted, and God, did I look like an idiot the first time.”
“You were adorable. I wasn’t sure what you were doing at first. The jive, or something? But once you got into your groove, I knew I was done for. The way your body moves should be a sin.” I cleared my throat, remembering her body against mine on dance floors all over Manhattan.
She swallowed and moved away from me again.
I removed the top of the beer and found her standing in the living room, her back to me.
The rain had stopped. It must’ve been a quick shower. My hair was still a little wet, but my clothes weren’t bad. I’d forgotten all about them the second Olivia had opened her door.
I brought the bottle to my lips and sat in the chair, my fingers tapping the side to the thumping beat of the music.
“You going to answer my question? Why’d you turn into your father?”
“I’m not my father,” I snapped, my body growing rigid at the very idea. “And are you going to tell me why you changed your last name and work for some creep like Declan?”
She faltered a little as she turned around. “I wanted a fresh start after Jessie died.” She stared at her bare feet. “A new name. A new life.”
I knew she was lying as soon as she looked up at me. Her mouth was tight, her brows slanted. She was panting, just slightly. What was she hiding?
I took another swig of my beer. Of course, I wasn’t being totally honest with her, either.
“I answered. Your turn.” She took a seat on the couch and pulled a pillow to her chest as if to guard herself.
“After the baby,” I started, but had to look away from her. It hurt too much to look her in the eyes and talk about this, “my father and I got into a big fight about you. I was angry at everyone and everything. I decided to get the hell out of New York. I took off, and the next thing I knew I was in boot camp.” I scratched my chin and released a breath. “I didn’t talk to my father for a long time after that.”
Her mouth opened as her eyes darkened, but she didn’t say anything.
“I don’t want to talk about our past anymore, though.” I stood up and rubbed the back of my neck. I almost forgot why I had come.
“I think we need to talk about it.” She folded her arms and rose to her feet. “You shouldn’t have left me.” Her voice was raw. Gritty. “You don’t get to be pissed at me.”
Was she out of her mind? Did she forget that she had wrecked my damn life? I couldn’t do this. I thought we could both move on if we just avoided the elephant in the room, but who was I kidding? The tension between us was too thick to elude. “I’m out of here.” I set the bottle down in front of me and moved to the door.
“Connor, wait.”
My hand froze on the knob, but I couldn’t turn around. My hands slid up and I pressed both palms to the door, lowering my head, not sure what to do. This woman had me skipp
ing down memory lane one minute and ready to run the next. The flip-flopping was making me sick.
I knew it would be better if I never saw her again, but as long as she worked for Declan, and as long as there were unanswered questions about my father and the company, I would have to face her.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t press.” Her hand rested on my back, and my shoulder blades flexed back at her touch.
“Damn it, Liv.” My voice was deep and gravelly as I squeezed my eyes shut. “I hate myself for still wanting you.”
“I’m in the same boat,” she said in a soft voice.
I turned to face her, and I couldn’t fight it anymore. I pulled her against me and snaked my hand through her hair, cupping the back of her head, as my mouth found hers.
18
Olivia
Connor was kissing me. And I was letting him. No, not just letting him. I was kissing him back.
I told myself to stop. I told myself to back away. But I couldn’t.
Instead, my hands slipped beneath his slightly damp T-shirt. My fingertips brushed against his warm skin; he raised his arms, and I peeled the shirt off.
He lifted me up, and my legs wrapped around his hips as his tongue pushed into my mouth. As he carried me down the hall and to my room, I wondered how the hell something so wrong could feel so unbelievably right. You’re mine, Liv. Forever mine. The memory of Connor’s promises pushed into my mind. He didn’t use his words lightly—they came in the moments that really mattered. For a nineteen-year-old-girl, those words had been everything.
Connor released me in front of my bed, and my feet found the ground. I started for my own shirt, desperate to have his hands on my body. His breath hitched, and his eyes darted to my chest once my lacy bra dropped to the floor.
I pulled air into my lungs as he lunged for me, his hands in my hair again, his mouth on mine. His fingers grazed my neck, traced the line of my collarbone, and dipped down to cup one of my breasts. My nipples tightened as he crushed his lips to mine, taking my mouth like he couldn’t get enough.
The Hidden Truths Series Box Set Page 60
