Recovering Ivy

by Riley Edwards

  I stared at my brother; the poor guy looked miserable. The more I studied Linc I realized it wasn’t misery, it was adoration mixed with fear. Love for his wife and unborn children and fear he wouldn’t live through the loss of them. I tried hard to summon what it might feel like to love a woman that much, but I couldn’t, and not only that, I knew I’d never know what those feelings felt like. I’d long ago made the decision that I would never burden a woman with my demons.

  “Did you think it was ever gonna be any other way with that woman? Relax, you’re gonna give yourself high blood pressure. What’d you find?” I repeated.

  “Dude’s a scumbag. The CEO was right to be worried, Forester is absolutely a plant. Before going to Techwatch he worked for Lemans, a subsidiary of Smart Technologies. His employment records indicate he was laid off due to corporate restructuring. However, there were no other layoffs around that time period,” Linc explained.

  “What is Forester after? The software for the watch?”

  “Nope. Both companies, Techwatch and Smart Technologies, have the exact same product, a smartwatch for kids. Unlike the adult smartwatches, the kids’ version doesn’t need data or wifi, the games and apps are built in. Smart Technologies planted Forester at Techwatch to steal their pricing structure and launch plan.”

  “Smart Technologies wants to bury Techwatch. The old Walmart trick, sell deep and cheap and run your competition out of business,” I surmised. Shady, but not a bad plan. What Forester and Smart Technologies were doing was illegal but, in my book, it didn’t exactly make Forester any more of a scumbag than any other overpaid executive trying to run other corporations out of business. “What else did Jasmin find?”

  “He likes prostitutes and he likes them young, we’re talking barely legal. Also, a year ago the police were called to his residence when a young girl he rented a room to was found dead in his house. Officially, it was ruled an overdose. The PD suspected foul play but couldn’t prove it. The girl, Joanna Long, nineteen at the time of death, had bruising on her inner thighs. There was evidence of intercourse, but no DNA present. Forester said he didn’t know if the girl had a boyfriend or what she did outside of his house. They did find strands of his hair on her clothing, but, again, she lived there. The investigators chalked it up to household transfer. With what Jasmin found while tailing him, I’d say he had something to do with Joanna’s death. But there is no evidence to support the theory. Just my gut telling me, Forester is behind the murder.”

  “Fuck me running. Does Jasmin have everything she needs to wrap up the case and turn everything over to the CEO?” I wasn’t sure how much further down the rabbit hole I wanted to go.

  “She does. But there’s a loose end. Forester’s PA, Susan Black, doesn’t exist. Name is fake, resume is fake, ID and SSN, both fake. But she’s not part of the scope of work so I haven’t put much time into her. We have everything we need to slam him without the PA, so I haven’t dug much. Jasmin also has the images and times logged when he visits the prostitutes. What should we do with those?”

  I hated loose ends, almost as much as he hated going into a situation blind. Years of experience taught me to never leave a stone unturned.

  “Find out what you can on Susan Black. Send Declan in if you need. Women tend to fall all over him. I’d like this shit closed by the end of the week. Tell him to lean on her if he has to,” I ordered then remembered my brother had asked a question. “We’ll hand over the images to the DA. Maybe he can use them as leverage to get Forester to flip.”

  “Sounds good,” Linc said and stood. “You coming over for dinner tonight? Violet and Jax are coming.”

  Fuck no, I wasn’t going to my brother’s house for dinner. The last time I did, I had to sit through hours of baby talk and watch as Leo couldn’t keep his hands off Olivia. No, that was not my idea of a good time.

  “Got shit to do,” I answered.

  Linc continued to stare before he shook his head and made his way to the door. When Linc stopped in the doorway and turned, my gut twisted at the look on my brother’s face. It was a look that told me I wasn’t going to be happy with Linc’s next statement.

  “You ever think about finding a woman?”

  I thought about flipping Linc the bird and telling him to mind his own fucking business, but I knew it would only lead to more conversation, something I tried to avoid at all costs. I didn’t want to discuss my personal life with anyone.

  “No,” he answered.

  One word. Short and to the point. No, I had not put any thought into finding a woman I’d want to keep. Not only did I not want one, there wasn’t one out there that could handle the fucked-up mess I was.

  2

  Ivy

  I was tired. Tired of living a lie. Tired of men. Tired of life in general.

  “Another?” the bartender asked, nodding toward the gin and tonic in front of me.

  “Please,” I answered, then added, “The Botanist,” reminding the overworked man of the type of gin I preferred.

  “How could I forget?” The bartender winked.

  I fought back the urge to roll my eyes at the man. He’d tried his hardest all evening to flirt and use whatever cheesy pickup line he could to hit on me, but he was shit out of luck. I was over men. They were liars. I’d yet to meet a man that knew the truth if it smacked him in the face, starting with my father and up until and including my current boss.

  Today he’d driven me to drink. Normally I’d go home to my shitty one-bedroom loft apartment, order in, and plot my revenge. I was almost there, too. All of the information I needed was falling into place. Another few months… I’d be golden, and he’d finally be behind bars.

  A man slid onto the stool next to me at the same time the bartender reappeared, placing my fresh drink in front of me.

  “A Botanist and tonic for the beautiful lady.” This time I didn’t stop my eyes from rolling. “What can I get you?” I noted the flirtatious tone had left the bartender’s voice when he asked the person next to me for their order.

  “Actually, I’ll have what she’s having.” The man’s voice was thick like honey and the sound sent chills racing up my spine, leaving certain parts tingling. “A woman who knows her gin.”

  A full body shiver took the place of the goose bumps, and for a moment I thought about dusting the cobwebs off my girly parts. I’d yet to turn in the man’s direction and when I did, it was too late to stop the dirty thoughts from further taking hold. If I thought his voice was sexy, it had nothing on the man himself. Holy smokes! He was hot; movie star good-looking. Jet black hair and heart-stopping blue eyes. If the smirk on his face was anything to go by, my reaction to him was commonplace.

  The longer I stared at the man, the more uncomfortable I became. The look had gone well beyond a cursory glance straight to gawking.

  “I’m Zane,” he said and offered his hand.

  Not wanting to be rude, I placed my hand in his and the moment they touched an electrical current zapped my hand and I quickly pulled away.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry.” Zane chuckled. “I didn’t mean to shock you. It’s windy out there,” he told me by way of explanation. I wasn’t sure if it was static electricity or if it was some sexy-man-current that naturally ran through his body.

  “That’s okay.” I turned back to my drink and took a large unladylike gulp, suddenly wanting to finish my drink and settle my tab. There was something extremely unnerving about Zane and his sapphire eyes. When he looked at me I felt naked, like he could see through my carefully built fortress. Which was crazy, he was just being polite introducing himself.

  The bartender set Zane’s drink down and placed a bowl of mixed nuts between us. Zane dipped his hand in and took out a handful before tossing a few into his mouth.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” I said.

  “Did what?” he asked after he’d swallowed.

  “Ate nuts out of the bowl. Do you know how many germs are in that bowl? It’s like a sc
ience experiment. Most people don’t wash their hands after they use the bathroom, then they come out and touch the bowl. You just ate piss nuts.”

  “Piss nuts?” He snickered.

  “Yes. And that’s better than calling them yeast nuts, which I totally could. You never know what germs people have on their hands.”

  I watched as Zane threw his head back and roared with laughter, transforming an already gorgeous man to downright captivating.

  “Fuck, you’re funny.” He smiled, complete with dimples. Sweet Christ, the man was lethal. He took a sip of his drink and continued, “Damn, I always forget how much I like The Botanist—infused with juniper and heather.”

  “I’ve never met anyone who drinks it. I only discovered it a few years ago when I visited the distillery where it’s made,” I told him.

  “You’ve been to Islay?”

  “I have. I think it’s you who knows their gin.”

  “Actually, I know my whisky. Discovering the gin was a byproduct of a visit to Bruichladdich where it’s distilled.”

  “Me, too. I’ve been there.” I eyed him with skepticism. “You sure you’ve been there? This isn’t just some pickup attempt, is it?”

  Islay, Scotland was a small island. It was not known as a tourist destination unless you liked whisky or wanted to experience a slower pace of life. The only thing the island had to offer were distilleries, peat marshes, and beautiful rolling hills covered in wild heather. There were also some of the oldest religious relics and ruins on the island, but Zane didn’t strike me as the type of man that would travel across the Atlantic to visit an old hand-carved stone cross or Viking relics.

  “Is that what you think I’m doing? Trying to pick you up?”

  My cheeks heated at my presumption. I hadn’t thought my statement through before I blurted out my question; only that I thought he was lying.

  “No.” I shook my head, wanting to flee even more now that I’d embarrassed myself. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Yes, I’ve really been to Islay. Several times actually when I needed the silence and solitude only the island can offer.” Zane looked a million miles away as he thought about the little Scottish island before he quickly masked his features and brought his hand to my face, his thumb rubbing the apple of my cheek. The soft touch short-circuited common sense and instead of batting his audacious hand away I leaned into it. “And for the record. When I’m hitting on a woman, she doesn’t need to ask if I’m doing it.” Holy shit. Warning alarms were blaring in my head and butterflies were in my belly. The mix of fear and excitement blended together, and I wasn’t sure if I was hoping he’d take me home for the night or if he’d pull his hand away and ignore me while I finished my drink. “Why don’t we start with your name and we’ll go from there?”

  “Why do you want to know my name?” I asked.

  “Normally, I like to know the name of the woman I’m taking to bed.”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “Normally, no. But with you, it does.” His hand hadn’t left my face. As a matter of fact, his grip had tightened. It was possessive, not painful, and tiny sparks of high-voltage sparks were shooting through my body.

  “Ivy,” I answered.

  “Ivy,” he repeated. I never much cared for my name but found I liked it a whole hell of a lot when it rolled off his tongue.

  I was choosing to ignore his comment about him taking me to bed. As enticing as his words were, they weren’t actually an offer, and if they were, I wasn’t sure what my answer would be. Which was crazy because I didn’t do one-night stands. I didn’t pick men up in bars and go home with them. But if the thought was so absurd, then why was I hoping he was serious? And why was I thinking about him ripping my clothes off and squelching the ache that had started between my legs?

  “What was that thought?” He leaned closer, and for a second, I thought he was getting ready to kiss me but he stopped just shy.

  “Umm. I don’t know,” I sputtered, not willing to admit I’d been imagining him taking me and making me forget about my shitty day. It had been years since I’d had a man. What would one night in the bed of a stranger hurt? Zane was the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. I made the decision that if he was offering, I was accepting. I wanted one night to forget, to be carefree and not think about the mountain of grief and anger that weighed on my shoulders.

  I deserved it.

  I tried not to squirm on the stool as he continued to study me; his hand had moved from my face and was now squeezing the back of my neck. “I think you know exactly what you were thinking but you’re too embarrassed to tell me.”

  “Why’s that?” I squeaked, afraid he knew exactly what I’d been visualizing.

  “Your pretty eyes darkened as your pupils dilated. You shifted in your seat and clenched your thighs together. And right now, you’re thinking about what it would feel like to be under me.”

  “You’re wrong,” I whispered.

  “I don’t think I am.”

  “I wasn’t thinking what it would feel like to be under you. I was thinking about what it would feel like to have you push me against the wall and take me.” I knew I was behaving like a brazen hussy but I was beyond caring. My mind had been made up; I wanted Zane.

  “I stand corrected. Are you done with your drink?” His voice had deepened and by the way he was now shifting on his stool, I figured he was just as turned on as I was. Not wanting to waste time, I picked up my gin and tonic and swallowed the rest down.

  “I am now,” I said, placing the drained glass down in front of me before I pulled my shaking hand back and placed it in my lap.

  Zane pulled out his wallet and threw a hundred-dollar bill on the bar top, not bothering to finish his drink. He stood and offered me his hand.

  “Aren’t you going to finish your drink?” I asked. Now that the moment of truth had arrived, I was stalling.

  “Hell, no. I have something far better in mind.”

  “Do you need change? A hundred is too much.”

  Zane didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled me off the stool and now, standing next to him, I noticed how tall he was. The top of my head barely came to his shoulder. He lifted my chin, making me look up while he looked down; once again our eyes locked. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “No.”

  “Thank fuck.” He leaned down and closed the distance, brushing his lips over mine, leaving me breathless and wanting more. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Okay.”

  We walked out of the bar hand in hand, Zane checking both ways before he tucked me close and crossed the street. He opened the door to an apartment building and motioned for me to enter first. There was no conversation on the way to the bank of elevators, the silence was exhilarating. For some reason it had ratcheted up my excitement. It felt naughty and illicit to be following a stranger back to his apartment with the singular purpose to have sex. The danger and stupidity of the situation also added to the fantasy. The elevator opened and once again he allowed me to enter first. The doors closed, and Zane pushed the top button indicating the penthouse and slid a plastic keycard into the slot. The elevator started to ascend and my heart started beating triple time. This was it, I was going home with a man and I didn’t even know his last name. I hadn’t even spoken more than a handful of words to him.

  “Ivy?” I hadn’t noticed he’d moved and was now standing in front of me.

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re here.”

  I’d been so lost in my head I hadn’t realized the elevator had stopped moving and the metal doors had slid open. Zane unlocked his door and pushed it open. We stepped over the threshold and there had been no time to take in my surroundings before I was pushed up against the wall. The chills I’d felt when I first heard his voice were back and had multiplied, the area between my legs flooded. I’d never been manhandled and caged in, nor had I ever been this excited without even being touched. My purse fell from my hand and landed with a loud t
hud on the hardwood floor.

  “If at any time you want this to stop, you say so.” Zane’s face was intense and only inches from mine, his erection pushed against my belly and my pussy clenched. “If you’re uncomfortable, you say so.” I nodded my acknowledgement, unable to formulate words. “I’m gonna fuck you against the wall quick and dirty before I take you to bed.”

  “Oh, god.” Those two words were all I could say before Zane’s mouth was on mine and his hands had gone to work unbuttoning my blouse.

  I was still in my stuffy work clothes and had never been more thankful I wore skirts to the office. With my shirt unbuttoned, Zane broke the kiss and pulled back to look at my bra-covered breasts. Large deft fingers popped the front clasp of my bra open, giving him a clear view of my puckered nipples. His thumb brushed over one and it hardened even more.

  Heaven.

  “So sexy,” Zane said before he latched on and sucked my nipple into his mouth.

  I needed more, something, anything, friction. I’d yet to really feel his body and realized my hands had lamely fallen to my sides. I’d been too intoxicated by his kiss. Once his lips had touched mine and our tongues had tangled all thoughts had vanished. I needed to see him, touch him, taste him, too. I clumsily pulled at his t-shirt hoping he’d understand my intentions and luckily, he did; unfortunately, that meant he had to disengage his mouth from licking around my nipple.

  “Impatient,” he muttered.

  “Yes.” The answer came without embarrassment. I was too far gone to worry about how that made me sound. If he didn’t hurry and fuck me, I might die.

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, fished a condom from it, then tossed the billfold to the floor. His pants were undone and pushed down, the sound of the foil packet ripping echoed in the room, and once he was sheathed, he yanked my skirt around my waist. My panties were the only obstacle left. Not to be deterred, he moved them to the side and pushed a finger inside me.

  “Holy shit,” I moaned. His finger felt so good, but it was gone all too soon.