The Score (Massey Security Duet Book 2)

by S. Nelson

Mixed emotions plagued me whenever I spoke to or about her. I hated that what happened overshadowed our friendship, and I never had the time to process or deal with anything before her family moved to California. Then, as time passed, I dove headfirst into a life of reckless behavior and avoidance.

  Me: Can’t wait either. It’s been too long.

  Steph: Definitely.

  Me: Can you send me the info again?

  Steph: Give me a few. Last minute deets to handle.

  Twenty minutes later she texted me the address, which happened to be on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. It would take us close to two hours to get there, and that was if traffic was light. I didn’t care about the drive, but I wasn’t sure how Ford would feel about the travel.

  As I entered my closet to check to see if I could locate a pair of earrings I wanted to wear on Saturday, the thought I even considered how Ford would react to driving so far annoyed me. Why should I care all of a sudden? I most certainly hadn’t before.

  Locating the earrings in question, I rushed from my room, wanting to snatch Emily’s dress back to make sure it didn’t need any other alterations. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I ran right into Ford. Literally. My forehead bumped against his chest.

  Because of my surprise, I inhaled through my nose. He always smelled so good, and right then wasn’t any different—a hint of the outdoors mixed with mint. I was sure it sounded like an odd combination, but it was intoxicating.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, retreating until there were a few feet of space between us.

  Every type of snarky response coiled in my head, ready to strike, but as I stood there looking at him, I didn’t want to use any of them. What is happening to me?

  He was dressed in his customary black slacks and white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. I never considered a man’s forearms a point of interest, but his were sexy. His large hands disappeared into his pockets, something he seemed to have a habit of doing.

  “I was actually going to come looking for you.” I leaned against the wall, my body language foreign to me because it portrayed ease, and that was something I most definitely wasn’t while in Ford’s presence.

  “What for?”

  “We have a charity event to go to on Saturday. It’s in Manhattan.” I took a breath and let him digest the information. He didn’t say anything, but did I really expect him to? What was he going to do, complain? Refuse to drive me there? No, he wouldn’t do either of those things.

  If I thought about all the times Ford appeared to give me a hard time, it had always been in response to something I’d done or said. I often lit the torch, hoping for an explosion, and sometimes my wish was granted when Ford reacted.

  “Okay. What time?”

  “It starts at seven. It’ll take almost two hours to get there, but if we hit traffic, which we probably will because it’s the weekend, it’ll take us longer. So, I want to leave by four. If we’re early, we can swing by someplace and grab a drink beforehand.”

  “I’ll let Owen know.” He brushed past me without another word and entered my bedroom, only to return several minutes later. Pesky rounds.

  After I retrieved Emily’s dress, hanging it up in my closet for safe keeping, I started working on my outfit. I had a little less than forty-eight hours to complete it. Talk about down to the wire, but I always worked best under pressure.

  * * *

  Ford

  The moment I caught sight of Cara descending the stairs, I wanted to make up any excuse I could think of as to why I couldn’t accompany her to the event that evening. And the reason was simple. My dick would be hard the entire time.

  Covered head to toe in black did nothing to diminish the glow she emitted, a beam of pride curving her lips with each step she took. She knew she looked good. Hot. She wore her blonde hair down and in loose waves. Images of me grabbing hold of her locks and spinning them around my fist so that I could anchor her to me assaulted my every thought.

  When she cleared the last step, she stood there watching my reaction, a flash of uncertainty surfacing on her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

  “You look very nice” was the only thing I could think to say that was appropriate. Anything else I wanted to blurt out would’ve gotten me slapped.

  Her face brightened. “Thank you.”

  As she moved past me, I saw that the side of her silk jumpsuit was a nude lace material, her skin visible from her ankle all the way up to underneath her arm…on both sides. With my eyes glued to her, watching her every movement, it was apparent she wasn’t wearing any underwear. No bra. No panties.

  The absence of her undergarments wasn’t in-your-face obvious, but to anyone who dared to take a longer look, it wasn’t hard to figure out. And I had no doubt that Cara would have countless sets of eyes glued to her all night.

  To say I was attracted to the woman was true. I wasn’t about to deny it, never had, but that was as far as it went. I’d kept my thoughts to myself and never so much as shared them with Owen. Although, something told me he knew, just from the way he liked to tease me. He wouldn’t say anything if he hadn’t picked up on a hint that I thought she was beautiful.

  I was aware Cara had made both hers and her sister’s outfits for the night’s event, having witnessed her creative process strewn around her room while I completed my rounds. For as little as I knew about her, I realized that the smile I now saw ghost across her face was a gift. To herself. She seemed happy. Driven.

  My intention after I’d set up the faux kidnapping was to point out how careless her actions were, to try and make her aware that how she acted not only affected her but those around her. Initially, she hadn’t taken it well, but I’d expected her reaction. What I didn’t expect was the change I saw in her these past two weeks.

  It was as if the experience shook her, jiggled something loose only to burst open. Maybe it was the jolt she needed to appreciate what she had. What she could have, if she stopped fucking around with her life and really started to live.

  “Ready?” Owen appeared in the foyer, standing right next to me with the women behind him.

  He’d been in the living room chatting it up with Emily, complimenting her more than once on how beautiful she looked. And she did. Cara had done a great job on her sister’s dress. And her own outfit, as well. Too good a job if my opinion counted because I could predict what kind of night was in store for me.

  Fending off plenty of fuckers brave enough to try and get close to her. I only prayed the guys who were attending would respect the purpose of the event and behave themselves. Although, when alcohol was part of the scene, all bets were off. That much I knew.

  A curt nod from me and we all walked out the front door.

  We decided to drive together into Manhattan because it was pointless to take two vehicles. Besides, at least I’d have company in case Cara reverted into one of her typical moods. She’d been decent the past few days, our interactions not grating on my nerves like usual, but I remained on guard because that could all change in the blink of an eye.

  With me behind the wheel and Owen at my side, the women sat behind us, Cara directly behind me. I caught her eyes in the rearview mirror every so often, staring longer than was safe. Not only was my focus pulled from the road, but I was giving her more attention than was appropriate.

  “I hope traffic isn’t a nightmare. You know how I get.” Owen smiled, but he was serious. He hated other drivers almost as much as I did, but he often took it up a notch, honking when they didn’t move out of his way quick enough.

  “Why do you think I’m driving?” I reached over and turned on the radio, the satellite tuned into the Sinatra station. I glanced in the mirror and waited for Cara to roll her eyes or make a comment about the music selection, but her eyes were glued to her phone. Whatever she read had her biting her bottom lip and causing a deep crease between her brows.

  Emily noticed her reaction, as well. “What’s going on?” she asked, leaning over her siste
r to try and look at her cell. More lip biting from Cara followed by a deeper frown.

  “I don’t know why I’m considering it.”

  “Considering what?” Emily asked.

  Cara turned her phone toward her sister so she could read it. If I don’t keep my eyes on the road, I’m gonna get us killed.

  “Yay,” Emily cheered. “You should definitely do it. You never know who’ll win.”

  “True,” Cara confirmed, glancing up to look at me in the mirror.

  “What are you talking about?” Owen had no qualms about being nosy, a trait which annoyed me most times, but right then I’d never been so grateful for his inability to mind his own business.

  Emily was the one to answer, scooting forward to be closer to us. Well, closer to him.

  “Stephanie, the one who organized the event, just asked Cara if she’d be willing to auction herself off to raise money.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, trying to hide the disapproval from my voice, but Cara heard it loud and clear, an air of cockiness in her reply.

  “It means I’ll be auctioning off a date to help out.”

  “Like hell you will,” I barked, gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles turned white.

  “Hey,” Owen warned, “calm down.”

  Choosing to ignore my brother, I kept my eyes on the road ahead so as not to have to meet her icy glare. Trust me, I knew she was throwing me daggers in the mirror. And if they weren’t daggers, she had a haughty look on her face, an expression that would also piss me off.

  “I won’t calm down. It’s not smart. Not with everything else going on. For all you know, the person who’s been sending the threatening notes to your father could be the very same person to bid for a date with you. How much easier could it be?”

  “I didn’t think of that,” Emily whispered, turning to look out the window.

  “The likelihood of that happening is pretty slim. No one even knows I’m doing this. Besides, what are the chances the creep will be there? It’s not like I publicly announced I was going.”

  “Your parents are going. Therefore, it’s public knowledge. Everyone who needs to know does.” Walter had called us earlier that day to let us know they would be in attendance, and to be on alert because it would be a highly public event. No matter if there were five people around or five hundred, Owen and I would do our job to the best of our ability. But I understood why he’d made the comment. These were his children. Enough said.

  “You’re overreacting. As usual.”

  “Listen, I don’t think you shou—”

  “Just do your job and I’ll be fine.” She moved closer to the window and out of my line of sight of the rearview.

  * * *

  Cara

  We arrived ten minutes before the start of the event. Traffic hadn’t been too bad, and while the tension in the car quickly became stifling, there was no other outburst from me or Ford.

  I supposed it was only a matter of time before we both reverted to the way we treated the other. He was an obtrusive pain in the ass, and I spoke my mind. Although, if you asked him, I was sure he could come up with a colorful way to describe me.

  When Ford pulled up in front of one of the oldest hotels in Manhattan, I smiled. The old-timey feel of the brick and mortar, mixed with the modern touches of the time made it the perfect venue for the event. There was something about the building that allowed me to imagine it when it was first constructed, images of horse and buggies pulling up in front, people of the time dressed in elegant attire stepping down and onto the cobblestone, laughing and dreaming of what their stay would be like.

  My rampant thoughts were cut short when Ford threw the vehicle in Park and exited, opening my door while his brother stepped back to open my sister’s. I looked across and saw the smile on Owen’s face when he looked at Emily, extending his hand to assist her. Then I turned to look at Ford, and all I saw was a scowl, and instead of him offering to lend me a hand, he shoved said hand in his pocket and took a step back.

  Chivalrous. Not so much.

  I pushed the door open farther before stepping out, tossing my hair over my shoulder and mumbling, “Such a gentleman.”

  Two steps later, his breath fanned across my cheek. “A gentleman wouldn’t tell you that your nipples are hard. They’re visible in that outfit. You should’ve brought a jacket.” Heat swirled through me the instant he stopped speaking. I battled with the urge to flaunt my erect nipples and wanting to cover myself with my hands. In the end, I ignored him.

  Ford walked past all of us but remained close enough to keep an eye on me. I couldn’t say I was surprised by his comment, yet I was. Kind of. I realized he’d probably have some sort of retort, but I’d been unprepared for those words.

  When I constructed the full-length jumpsuit, I made it with the mindset that I wouldn’t be able to wear a bra or panties because of the sheer sides. I’d sewn in thin cups, but because of the unexpected chill in the air, my nipples pebbled. I was sure my body’s reaction had nothing to do with Ford.

  Walking toward the entrance, I was surprised there were no paparazzi. Ford had mentioned that people knew my parents were coming, therefore they probably found out that we were, too. The damn leeches were everywhere else I didn’t want them to be. Of course, this would be the one time—when I was part of something worthy—they’d be MIA.

  Once inside, we headed toward the largest ballroom, surprised by how many people were already gathered.

  “I need a drink.” I sauntered straight toward the large bar located on the other side of the room. While I realized Ford would be behind me, I prayed he would give me some space to try and clear my head. His comment about my nipples annoyed me, sure, but it was the disapproval in his tone that rattled me. Any other time I would’ve blown him off, not giving a second thought to his words, but right then I cared for some reason.

  “It’s early, so pace yourself,” Emily warned, gifting me a tentative smile. “Just want to make sure you have your wits about you when it comes time for the auction. You don’t want to get stuck with some old, fat guy, do you?”

  “I don’t think I have a say in who wins. I go to whoever bids the highest.” Saying it like that sounded strange to my ears, like someone was purchasing me. Which, in a way, they were. They were buying time with me. No, wait, that made me sound like an escort. Anyway, it was all for a great cause, and if I ended up with a fat, old guy, I sure as hell hoped he was funny.

  Ford was close by, as I suspected, and I heard him grumble, “Ridiculous,” under his breath. While I wanted to goad him, make him explain his complaint, I ignored it and placed my order with the bartender. A handsome kid who practically tripped over himself when he saw me approach.

  Once I had my drink in hand, I turned to face the growing crowd. I leaned against the lip of the bar and put the straw in my mouth, taking a healthy sip and hoping the night would be a fun one.

  I loved to people watch, especially when I knew them and they had no idea I was paying attention. I found people’s mannerisms quirky, their expressions telling if someone paid close enough attention, and their body language cinching the deal, exposing all their secrets.

  In the center of the ballroom were a few of Hollywood’s elite, and I had no doubt they were here because of my father. But whatever it took, right?

  “There’s Mom and Dad,” Emily announced, pointing to our left. Our dad was dressed in a classic black suit and white shirt, but instead of a standard tie, he opted for a bow tie; a touch of difference for him was typical. Our mom had on a floor-length, pale-pink sleeveless dress, hugging her in all the right places. Her hair was down in big waves, similar to mine.

  Clutching my drink, I followed Emily toward our parents. They beamed at us as we drew closer.

  “Aren’t you two lovely,” Mom said, smiling big as she gave us each a hug.

  “You don’t look half bad yourself.” I spun her around, to which she laughed and swatted my hand away when I rested it on her sho
ulder and wanted her to twirl again.

  “I clean up well.”

  “You always look gorgeous,” Dad said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. His hand disappeared behind her back, and if I wasn’t mistaken, from the way she jerked away from him and laughed, he just grabbed her ass. I could be wrong, but he had been known to openly grope her in public. Nothing lewd, of course, but enough to have tongues wagging.

  A faint blush tinted her cheeks right before she turned into him, whispering in his ear. She could’ve said something inappropriate or she could’ve chastised him for grabbing her, if that was indeed what he’d done. Regardless, he beamed at her words.

  My parents loved each other fiercely and they hardly ever fought, but when they did, it was my mom laying down the law, my dad falling into place and apologizing for whatever he had or hadn’t done.

  As I contemplated whether I’d ever find someone who could put up with me enough to warrant as long of a relationship as my parents had, my eyes found Ford. He was not the type of man I envisioned myself being with, but there was no denying I was attracted to him. It took more than desire to sustain a relationship, however, and although I’d never had a real partnership with someone before, I realized that after the lust part of attraction faded, there had to be more for the connection to endure. I just didn’t know what that would look like.

  From my many interactions with Ford, he struck me as a no-nonsense type of guy. Someone who didn’t have time for the fluff most people liked to engage in when trying to get to know each other. The niceties.

  Our relationship, if that was the right terminology to use, had not been ideal right from the beginning. He was forced on me and I rejected his very presence, fighting the situation every step of the way. There were times he held his tongue, although, his expression told me everything. Then there were times he spoke his mind freely, most times in reaction to something I’d done or said.

  But recently, we weren’t as harsh toward the other. And by that, I meant my reaction toward him. Not his toward me since I seemed to have been the one who instigated most of our negative encounters.