Edge of the Enforcer

by Cherise Sinclair

  Lindsey couldn’t help the accusing look she sent her friend. Discussions between the women were supposed to be secret. Well, okay, job hunting wasn’t particularly confidential, but still…

  Simon’s lips quirked. “Maybe I can help your search, since Xavier and I know quite a few business owners. Have you attended college or taken any training?”

  God, how could she explain? Her thoughts tangled as she backtracked through the lies she’d used. Should use. Had she told Rona—

  “Lindsey?”

  Under his dark, intimidating gaze, she blurted out the truth. “I have a master’s degree in social work.”

  Abby gasped.

  “I’d only been working for a couple of months when”— when I fled, leaving everything behind—“when I left Texas.” Just ahead of being arrested for murder.

  Simon frowned. “With that kind of background, why are you a receptionist?”

  “I…I don’t want to be found.”

  “The divorce was bad? Did he try to hurt you?”

  Divorce. Abby and Rona must have disclosed her lies. If only an angry ex-husband was all she was running from. She shivered. “Oh yes.”

  Simon’s eyes narrowed…as did Rona’s.

  Abby put a warm hand on Lindsey’s forearm.

  Aw heck, she was making a hash of this. Lying wasn’t in her skill set. “I think eventually he’ll forget about me.” Her assumption was valid…since he was dead. Regrettably Victor’s brother was the police chief; he’d never forget. “Meantime, I’m playing it safe”—real safe. Even her name and social security number were falsified—“and not leaving a trail by requesting school records or résumés. Instead, I take crummy jobs.”

  After another moment of study, Simon moved his chair, positioning himself knee to knee with Lindsey. He took her hands in his heavily callused ones. His eyes were steady. “Tell me about your work experience.”

  She glared at Rona. “Next time you arrange an interview, would you set it up for before I’ve been drinking?”

  Rona and Abby burst out laughing.

  Simon’s fingers tightened. “Answer me.”

  God, the low command sent a quiver down her to her toes. His gaze stayed on her face as she swallowed against the sudden dryness.

  Be honest. Don’t put him on the spot with his friends. “Okay, it’s like this. I think I’m good at counseling, and people who worked with me said I was great.” On the other hand, she’d only had a couple of months’ experience. “As a receptionist, I did well enough, even though I hadn’t used some of the software. My boss says she’ll be happy to give me a reference.”

  Her sister had scolded her before for being too modest. Had said she should never run herself down.

  Someone else had no problem making her feel like scum. “Debt paid.” Damn deVries.

  “I might not have much office experience; however, I learn quickly, I’m smart, I’m organized, and I’m good with people.” There, that sounded nice. Maybe too boastful?

  Simon squeezed her fingers and let her go. “Very well laid out. I’ve seen how easily you handle the desk at Dark Haven.” His measured gaze moved over her, as if weighing her in his mind. “Let’s try this. My executive assistant needs to work part-time for a couple of weeks. She hasn’t found anyone in-house to assist her—at least not one she likes. Possibly she’d get along better with a smarter, less experienced person. Would you like a crack at it?”

  Her ears followed his words; her brain lagged behind. The fact her lungs ceased working didn’t help. After a second, she wheezed, “Did you just offer me a job?”

  “This is the first time I’ve interviewed someone in a bar, let alone an applicant who wasn’t remotely sober.” His mouth curved up. “Yes, Lindsey, I offered you the chance to see if you can impress my admin. If you can’t, no harm done. Either way, I’ll help find you something. However, this would bring you in some money while you’re searching for a better match.”

  “It’ll work,” she promised him and a smiling Rona. It will damn well work.

  Two hours later, a horrifying thought brought her upright in bed.

  DeVries worked for Simon.

  Chapter Five

  On Friday, deVries stepped off the elevator at the eleventh floor and walked around the corner. He’d gone straight to the Demakis offices after a long week of bodyguarding the prissiest, bitchiest movie star he’d ever met. And he’d met quite a few. He’d thought he was fairly easygoing, well, not really—but Jesus, by the time the week ended, he’d considered paying her stalker to take her out.

  To top it off, she’d thrown a tantrum at his announcement he was leaving. When his replacement, Marley, looked as if she were considering walking out, damned if he hadn’t fled like a wimp.

  As he shoved open the door to the offices of Demakis International Security, he shook off his irritation. At least he’d be in San Francisco for a while. He could visit Dark Haven tonight and find someone to play with. Maybe johnboy or HurtMe. Or Dixon might be available, even if the submissive couldn’t take as much pain.

  After a good S/M session, deVries could fuck his brains out with a willing female.

  His mouth tightened as he remembered the previous week. The innocent-looking, cute…money-grubbing…submissive. Been years since a woman had taken him in so thoroughly. Yeah, she was good. Might even have a bit of a conscience left, considering the guilt on her face when he’d asked if her ex was in a ritzy place like hers.

  Did some women have a biological glitch making them more mercenary than men? They might appear loyal at first, but wave a wad of cash in front of them and some would sell out their own kin.

  Or, in the case of his mother, her son.

  As he stepped into the reception area, he stopped abruptly. “What the fuck?”

  Lindsey, the Texan with a calculator for a heart, sat at the admin’s desk. “Mr. deVries.” Expressionless, no light in her wide brown eyes. Her voice was icy. “Mr. Demakis said you were to go straight in when you arrived.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Working. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Guess so.” He set his hands palm-down on the desk and leaned into Lindsey’s space. “I don’t like you.”

  The tiny lines around her eyes flinched, but she didn’t move. Didn’t evade his gaze. Didn’t display fear, and he had to give her props for that. A pity she’d be afraid very shortly when he—

  “Zander, I’m glad you’re back,” Simon said from behind him. “How did you enjoy Los Angeles?”

  DeVries turned, and his boss’s knowing smile pissed him off good. “Did you know what a bitch your so-called star is?”

  “Of course.” Simon motioned him into his office and said to the Texan, “Take an hour for lunch. Mrs. Martinez is on her way up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Without looking at deVries once, she bent over, digging in a drawer in her desk. Her desk.

  DeVries dropped into a chair in Simon’s office and glanced around. Creamy carpet. Off-white walls. Yet the mahogany desk, leather furniture, and colorful abstract art kept the place from the frozen feeling of the Texan’s fancy condo. “You hiring Dark Haven subbies now?”

  Simon’s gaze cooled. “Mrs. Martinez’s daughter is getting married, and she requested help for a couple of weeks. Rona suggested I hire Lindsey.”

  And Simon gave his wife just about anything she wanted. DeVries considered mentioning Lindsey’s past. Unfortunately, what she’d done to an ex-husband had little bearing on her performance as a secretary. Odd she was working at all, but perhaps an upscale office was the perfect hunting ground for her next sucker.

  “Do you have a concern with Lindsey?” Simon asked evenly.

  Fuck. “Nothing related to work. Won’t be a problem.”

  “Good enough.” Simon flipped open a folder on the desk. “Now debrief me on Los Angeles. I also want your input on security for the Scofield’s residence.”

  DeVries turned his a
ttention to the matters at hand. The Texan would undoubtedly stay out of his path, both here and at Dark Haven. She didn’t strike him as suicidal.

  For over an hour, they tossed ideas back and forth, and finally Simon nodded. “Looks workable.” He glanced down at the notes he’d jotted. “Give this to Lindsey to type up, would you, please?”

  DeVries took the papers. At the door, he stopped. “How’s she working out?”

  Simon’s level look made him feel like a fool. “Very nicely. Her degree is in social work, and she lacks office experience; however, sheer doggedness gets her past that. I’ll keep her as long as she wants to stay.”

  Social work? Jesus. “Why the fuck would a rich girl major in social work?”

  “Rich girl?” Simon gave him a quizzical glance. “Where’d you get such an idea?”

  “Saw her condo. Pacific Heights.”

  With a disgusted sound, Simon leaned back in his chair. “Someday you might want to talk to the woman you’re fucking.”

  Unable to think of a response, he closed the door. Simon’s reaction implied Lindsey wasn’t rich, and deVries was off base.

  Or Simon had been taken in by someone’s puppy-dog eyes and an oh-pitiful-me story.

  DeVries crossed the hallway to the reception area. Lindsey was behind the desk, sitting beside Mrs. Martinez.

  The gray-haired secretary’s tailored silvery suit hinted at her impressive efficiency; her pleased smile showed her true nature. Sweetest woman on the planet.

  “Zander, it’s wonderful you’re back.” She held her hand out to him and accepted a kiss on her cheek as her due. “If you’ll be here a few days, I’ll make you an apple pie.”

  His mouth watered. The woman knew how to cook. “If I’m out of town, I’ll fly back.”

  Her laugh was delighted. Still smiling, she turned to the silent little Texan. “Lindsey, do you know Alexander deVries? He’s Simon’s best operative.”

  “Yes, we’ve met.” Lindsey tilted her head stiffly. “Mr. deVries.”

  Well, if that was the way she wanted to play it, fine. He gave her a nod and handed Mrs. Martinez the papers. “Simon needed these typed up.”

  In his office, he dropped into his chair. As one of Simon’s three lead security agents, he rated his own space rather than a cubicle. Not high on his list of priorities, but he liked the privacy. Leaning back, he stared out the window where the Bay sparkled in an undoubtedly short interlude of sunshine.

  Quite the puzzle. A pretty divorcee who ended up well-off enough to live in Pacific Heights—yet worked as a receptionist.

  She’d dressed…comfortably. Not rich. Black jeans and boots, silky red shirt. A black jacket dressed her outfit up adequately for an office.

  Mrs. Martinez dressed fancier.

  Lindsey had a degree in social work—or so she’d told Simon. Social workers and con artists didn’t belong in the same box.

  He scowled. Although she’d lied to him last weekend, he hadn’t noticed any dishonesty before that. However, he’d been played for a fool before. Tamara had lied to him constantly, and he hadn’t caught on.

  Even so, that was a decade ago. He’d been younger. Hadn’t been a Dom and used to studying for small telltale signs of deception. He’d never have thought to distrust his wife.

  The sound of Lindsey’s giggles came through the closed door. Sweet. Open. Her apparent sincerity was one of her traits he’d found compelling.

  Simon knew about her ritzy condo, yet didn’t think she was rich. Had he checked her references? Seen her college transcripts? He wasn’t an idiot, after all.

  “I’m missing something,” deVries muttered. As a kid, he had never been able to step away from a puzzle. Got into fixing computers for the sheer fun of figuring out how they worked. As a SEAL, he’d specialized in surveillance, surreptitious entry, and breaching. Now, as a trained investigator, he should be able to unravel the puzzle of Lindsey.

  He leaned forward and brought up the first search program.

  * * * *

  Why couldn’t the man go do his investigating and bodyguarding somewhere else? Like maybe New York? Late that afternoon, Lindsey walked past deVries’s office. Door closed. Through the smoky glass, she could see him at his desk. Having him in the same building made her more nervous than her resident rodent on cleaning day. Little Mouse Francois had the right idea—jump in a hidey-hole until it was safe to come out.

  What kind of a man could be so nice to her all night and zip straight into disliking her? That was just…wrong. Made her feel as if every certainty was gone.

  When he’d said, “I don’t like you,” she’d almost started to cry.

  Behind her, in reception, the phone rang, and Mrs. Martinez answered.

  Lindsey wanted to help, but she’d been told to enjoy a break before the admin left.

  The break room was tiny, with a small table, fridge, sink, and microwave. The new coffeemaker obviously got the most use. Lindsey put a clean cup under the spout and inserted a hazelnut-flavored pod. As she waited, she called her sister.

  “Hey, it’s Lindsey.”

  “Sissie!” Amanda’s high voice was delighted. “Changed phones again?”

  “You betcha.” The better to make sure her number never got in the wrong hands.

  Her little sister gave an unhappy sigh. “I wish—”

  “Me too.” She forced cheerfulness into her voice.

  “Well, I’m glad you called. I wanted to talk to you.”

  Worry tightened Lindsey’s throat. “What’s wrong? Have you been to the doctor?”

  “Criminy, relax!” Her baby sister heaved an exasperated groan. “I’m fine. The last scan showed I’m clear. It’s all good, Linnie.”

  “Oh.” Lindsey’s shoulders slumped with relief. The cancer hadn’t come back. “Okay. Sorry.”

  “You worry more than Mama and Melissa combined.”

  “I know.” Hearing Amanda’s giggle, Lindsey felt her spirit soar. Just listen to her. Alive. Laughing. So different from three years ago, when she’d been diagnosed with cancer and was well on her way to dying. She’d been losing weight, her face drawn tight with pain. Now she sounded as she had before—Mandy had laughed all through childhood. “So what’s up?”

  “Texas A&M accepted me. I’m going to be an Aggie!”

  “Really? When did you get old enough to go to college?”

  “Linnie!” The reprimanding tone made Lindsey chuckle and tear up at the same time.

  “S-sorry.” She cleared her throat. It had been worth it. Sure, if Victor hadn’t offered to pay for Amanda’s treatment, Lindsey wouldn’t have rushed into marrying him. Maybe she’d have had a chance to learn what an evil person he was or even why he’d been so eager to get married.

  She curled her lip. At a guess, he’d needed only one smuggling trip to reimburse him for everything spent on Mandy’s treatment. Yet the past didn’t matter. Her sister was alive, laughing, and planning her future. That was what counted. “Congratulations, Mandy. Seriously. That’s awesome.”

  “I know, right? I can’t believe I actually caught up on all those classes I missed. And Mom’s giving me a birthday party next week.” A pause and smaller voice. “I wish you could come.”

  The thought of setting foot in Parnell’s jurisdiction, of what might happen to her… Lindsey’s stomach twisted painfully. Relax. She was far, far from Texas. “Sorry, sissie.” Would she ever be able to go home? “Are y’all doing okay?”

  “The cops swing by every couple of weeks to see if you’re hiding under the couch or something.” She snickered.

  “You’re not telling them anything, right?”

  “Nah, we only say we don’t know where you are. I’m glad you don’t tell us, so I don’t feel like a liar.” She hesitated. “Chief Parnell is…kinda scary, though.”

  Lindsey stiffened, remembering the twisted hatred in the police chief’s eyes. I shot his brother. And Parnell liked to kill. Thank goodness Mandy would soon be leaving town. “You never see
him alone, you understand me? Never.”

  “I’m not stupid. If Mama’s not home, I go out the back door and over the fence.” Mandy giggled. “But it’s fun when she’s there. She knows she can’t lie worth a darn, so she just goes into a crying fit whenever the chief mentions your name. And he gets all disgusted and leaves.”

  Even as guilt settled in Lindsey’s stomach, she grinned. She could see her mama doing excellent hysterics. With proper Southern gentility, of course.

  “Melissa came over for supper last night. She’s getting the day off to come to my party!”

  “Good.”

  “And she says she’s still keeping the cattle and the hands away from your property.”

  “Even better.” Thank God for Melissa. The two of them had always taken care of Mama and Mandy. Like when Amanda got sick, Lindsey had obtained the money for the experimental treatment, Melissa provided the support, and Mama had—Lindsey rolled her eyes—Mama had cried. They all loved their mother, despite the fact that in an emergency, she was as much use as tits on a boar. “Now tell me about what you’re going to take the first semester.”

  After her sister finished with the local news, Lindsey dumped her coffee into the sink and went back to the reception room.

  “I’m off to help my baby with her flower arrangements,” Mrs. Martinez said and pointed to a pile of papers on the desk. “If you have time, can you file those away?”

  “You bet.”

  Lindsey stood and watched the short woman hurry out of the office. After a minute, she recognized the feeling welling inside her as grief. She’d been a bride twice now. Even with Victor and having a few qualms, she’d thought there was love. She’d looked forward to children.

  Surely the death of dreams should have some ceremony attached.

  Feeling the thickening in her throat, she shook herself.

  The wagon train of destiny has passed, girl. Barking after it won’t make it stop.

  Carrying the papers, she went into the narrow filing room. Tucked behind the reception area, the room was isolated and perfect, since she couldn’t see deVries’s office.

  Mood lightening, she hummed to herself, answered the phone when needed, and filed papers. As, Bs, Cs…