by Avery Gale
Fischer must have sensed that she’d awakened, because he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and whispered, “There was a large envelope leaning against the door, baby. We’re just going to be cautious and wait downstairs.” It wasn’t long before Peter called giving them the all clear. When she started to stand from where they’d been waiting in the lobby, Fischer shook his head and picked her up again. “Before you argue with me, think about the consequences, cupcake. I don’t want your bare feet on the floor—it’s too cool and this is also a public lobby.” Lara didn’t argue, but she did find the whole thing amusing—if he’d seen some of the villages where she’d lived, known the unsanitary conditions she’d endured, his opinion of the polished marble floor would probably change substantially.
By the time he set her back on her feet they were well inside the penthouse they shared, Micah and Kent were standing beside Peter frowning at whatever was spread out over the low table in the living room. When she approached, she noticed all three men were wearing latex gloves—definitely not a good sign. As she approached Micah cautioned her to put on a pair of gloves before touching anything, but his words proved to be unnecessary. Once she got close enough to see what they were looking at she froze—her mind reeling in utter disbelief. “How?” was the only thing she managed to utter before Peter pulled her against his side. She didn’t know how the other men had gotten here so fast but she was grateful because she felt like her life was spinning out of control so quickly, any and all help was appreciated.
Once she’d finally gotten her bearings, she turned to Peter and asked, “Was there a note?” He nodded and pointed to the neatly printed card balanced on the corner of the table. We’re watching. We want what belongs to us. The words might not have been an obvious threat, but accompanied by the photos, the meaning was clear—they could have gotten to her at any time. Someone had been watching her for a very long time. After skimming through the first few prints, Lara didn’t want to look at any more of the photos and quickly excused herself saying she wanted to take a quick shower and change clothes. And while it was true that she’d always hated the smell of hospitals and was anxious to ride herself of the stench of sickness, blood, and antiseptic that seemed to cling to her hair and clothing, the real issue was she now knew how vulnerable she was. Every suspicion she’d ever had about her parents reared its ugly head and the more she thought about it, the more angry she became. Suddenly she was very anxious to sit down with her grandparents and ask some long overdue questions. She only hoped she wasn’t leading trouble to their door.
Chapter Eleven
Peter watched Lara walk down the hall and disappear into their bedroom before turning back to the other three men standing around the table. “How did we miss someone taking pictures of her? Seriously? We’re fucking trained operatives? We don’t miss this sort of thing. Hell, our lives depend on not missing this shit.” He knew his voice was raising, but he couldn’t hold back his frustration.
Kent’s phone rang before he could continue his tirade and his friend’s clipped tone had Peter pausing to listen. “Fuck. When? Well, fine send him up, but make sure he knows we’re not stepping back and letting him just take over.” Kent ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration after disconnecting the call. He turned to the other men, “Eric Roberts is downstairs having a shit fit and insisting on coming up.”
“Christ, that’s all we need, a fucking Homeland Security agent crawling up our asses on this when we don’t even know what the hell is going on yet.” Micah rolled his eyes and started gathering up the pictures. “What’s his interest in this anyway? I just can’t see this being a national security issue unless we’ve misinterpreted the puzzle and we aren’t looking for diamonds after all.”
Fischer turned and headed for the kitchen, “I’m going to set things up so we can feed Lara as soon as the food arrives, she needs to eat something before she crashes.” Peter knew Fischer was right, she’d been dead on her feet earlier but he hated the thought of her going to bed without he and Fischer both having a chance to make love to her. Their sweet sub thrived on affection and they intended to make sure she had plenty of it. But now it looked as if all of their plans for this evening were quickly swirling around a drain, ready to be sucked right out from under them both.
Peter opened the front door just as Special Agent Eric Roberts stepped off the elevator alone. The fact he hadn’t brought along whoever had drawn the short straw to be his “lackey of the week” was a red flag warning the man might not be acting entirely under the jurisdiction of DHS. Nodding to the man their team had a love-hate relationship with, he held open the door and then followed Roberts inside. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?” Peter knew his tone let the man know exactly how he felt about the interruption, and truthfully, he just simply didn’t care.
Kent stood with his back to the large window overlooking the lights of downtown Houston, he made no attempt to soften his question, “What are you doing here, Eric? We told you we’d update you if and when we had something to report.”
The agent looked between Peter and Kent, then sighed, “Where are the others?” When Kent simply raised a brow, he shook his head, “Where is Drake? And your brother?” The last was said to Peter, and no one bothered asking how he knew who was in the penthouse because quite frankly it would be a waste of time. The damned man had been an agent a long time despite his youthful appearance and even if he did answer the question it would have been evasive at the very least.
Micah sauntered back in and looked at Eric Roberts like he was pond scum. It was only then that Peter remembered the men shared a mutual dislike for one another, despite the fact they grudgingly admitted that they respected the hell out of each other’s computer skills. “Nice to see you too, Micah.” Turning back to Peter, he asked, “Your brother?”
“He’s busy and you know he isn’t involved in agency business, so there isn’t any reason to wait for him. Why are you here?” Peter was getting tired of Roberts’ questions and he was more than anxious to see him gone before they had to explain to Lara who the hell he was. Not to mention it was going to be damned difficult to explain what the man was doing standing in the middle of their living room this late at night when Peter didn’t know himself.
Eric Roberts crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m here because I received a text message earlier this evening warning me to step away from this investigation.”
“That can’t be that unusual, why pay special attention this time?” Kent’s question echoed Peter’s own.
“This one also had pictures and it seemed damned odd that you’d allow your lady to have her picture taken in the middle of a medical crisis.” Peter felt the earth shift beneath his feet. How could that possibly have happened? How had they been so distracted they hadn’t seen someone taking her picture? “Listen, I don’t want to stay, I just wanted you to know I’ll help if you need it. The chatter is starting to pick up on this thing, somebody wants whatever Lawrence and Rita Emmons have been bringing back to the States and they think Lara has it.”
Peter was just opening his mouth to ask if Roberts had any idea what they were looking for when Lara’s confused voice sounded behind him, “Simon? What are you doing here?” Peter was so stunned he wasn’t even able to speak before her tone become much frostier when she turned to him and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Simon? Oh, drown me. You already knew everything when I finally trusted you enough to share that humiliation, didn’t you? Damn, I just never seem to learn.”
Looking around, Peter could see that Kent and Micah were staring at Lara, completely baffled by what she’d just said. Fischer stepped into the room and the look on his face was almost as confused. The only person who seemed to know what their sweet woman was talking about was Special Agent Eric Roberts and he had just visibly cringed at Lara’s admission that he’d humiliated her. Wait—did she just call him Simon? What the hell?
Fischer was glaring at him from across t
he room and his annoyed words filled Peter’s mind, ‘Yeah, I was wondering when that little detail was going to register. Man, she is pissed. Figures that the only time I’ve ever been able to really hear her it’s because she is blazing fucking mad.’
Fischer stepped closer to Lara, but when he noticed the look she gave him, he froze in his tracks. The light that had always been in her eyes when she’d looked at him was gone, it was if he was looking into the eyes of a stranger, someone who had far more reason to distrust him than not. Her expression was all about anger, but the emotion pulsing around her was far worse—she felt as though she’d been betrayed by the men who’d promised to protect and cherish her. He could almost hear her heart ripping apart and it was killing him to stand so far from her.
She turned back to Roberts, “I asked you why you’re here. Does this have anything to do with my parents?”
Fischer watched Eric Roberts shift from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable to have been caught standing in the apartment she shared with he and Peter. At least the ass hat had the decency to realize what a fucking hornet’s nest he’d stirred up. “Yes, it does. I’m the agent in charge of the investigation, Lara.” When she gasped, he quietly added, “I’m sorry.” And with those two words understanding washed over Lara’s face and as the truth often does—it finally broke her resolve and tears streamed down her pale cheeks.
“It was always about my parents, wasn’t it? Our meeting wasn’t coincidental. It was deliberate, and it was always about them, wasn’t it? God in heaven I was such a fool. I actually believed you liked me. Damn and double damn, no wonder you asked me a zillion questions about my childhood and all the places I’d traveled to on vacations.” She took a deep breath and then another, obviously trying to rein in her emotions before a look of defeat seemed to settle over her, and oddly enough, Fischer instinctively knew that emotion was going to be far harder to fight than her anger. “What is your real name?” When the agent didn’t answer quickly enough, she practically snarled the question again, “What is your real name? Damn it you owe me that much.”
“Eric Roberts is the name I use in the agency, for all intents and purposes it’s real.”
“Nice fucking cover, but you know what? I just don’t care anymore. You can investigate me, my parents, hell, you can investigate God himself—but you’ll do it without my help.” And then she simply turned on her heel and walked away. The sound of the bedroom door closing quietly and the soft click of the lock might as well be loud enough to register on the Richter scale for the impact it had. The entire room erupted into angry accusations as he and Peter tried to bring Micah and Kent up to speed.
While they’d been explaining the story to their friends, Fischer watched at Roberts hung his head after Lara had walked away. When he finally looked up, regret was the only thing Fischer could see in the other man’s eyes and for just a minute he wondered if perhaps Lara had meant more to him than he’d intended her to. Well, Mr. Super-Agent, you’ve not only screwed yourself out of the most amazing woman I’ve ever known—but I’m not sure you haven’t managed to take my brother and I down with you.
Fischer started to follow Lara, but Peter stopped him, “Give her a little bit of time, brother. She’ll come around. We’ll just explain that we didn’t know Simon Ericson and Eric Roberts were the same person.” Peter might be older and he might have traveled the world during his years in the military, but there were times when Fischer wondered how he could be so damned naïve.
‘I don’t agree, but I want to hear what this prick has to say for himself so I’ll wait a few minutes. But I don’t think we should leave her alone too long. She’s convinced every one of us has sold her out and I don’t want her believing that bullshit any longer than she has to.’
It took the better part of an hour to get the story sorted out and by the time they were finished, Fischer was torn between wanting to strangle Simon Ericson for what he’d done to Lara’s self-esteem and sympathy for Eric Roberts because it was obvious the man had developed feelings for the young woman who had started out as an assignment. Even sitting across the room from the agent, he was easy to read. ‘He knew he’d never have a chance with her after he’d deceived her for so long. If we weren’t talking about the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, I might actually feel sorry for the bastard.’
Peter had simply nodded in agreement before turning his attention to Kent who had answered his phone and immediately stiffened. “Where is she now?” All conversation had ceased and every eye in the room was on Kent West who was obviously annoyed. “Goddamn woman, what the hell is she thinking?” Fischer was only getting brief pieces from Kent, but he’d gotten enough to know Lara had somehow managed to make it out of the penthouse without being seen. He pulled out his phone and called the one man who would know how their pissed off woman had managed to give them all the slip.
After speaking with Cam, Fischer listened as Kent recounted his conversation with Taz. “Seems your lovely sub found a way out of the penthouse without being seen. Taz was coming back from the coffee shop down the street when he saw her slip out the service entrance. He wouldn’t have seen her in the dark alley, but all that lovely blond hair gave her away.” Fischer knew Kent was enjoying the fact Lara had thought to dress in dark clothing, but had overlooked the lovely beacon she wore atop her head. “Sorry, but I’ve seen Tobi make that same mistake more times than I can tell you. She is convinced Kyle and I have night vision, but she never thinks about the fact her hair picks up the dimmest light and magnifies it with every strand. God help us if either of them ever figures it out, and I’d suggest you not mention how he made her.”
Fischer knew his friend was trying to lighten the mood because he’d no doubt seen the look on Peter’s face. Damn, Fischer wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his brother as angry as he was right now. But, what Kent didn’t realize was that Peter was angry with himself and with Agent Roberts—the person Kent was trying to shelter from the storm was the only one Peter wasn’t angry with.
Micah had been leaning against the mantle over the fireplace watching everything play out around him, but he’d kept the majority of his focus on Eric Roberts. He might not be an empath like the Weston brothers, but it didn’t require any special skills to see the man had a serious hard-on for Lara Emmons. He listened as Kent talked to Taz—he didn’t need to bother—Micah knew exactly where she was headed, because he’d done his homework. Lara Emmons only had one friend that wasn’t associated with the club and he’d read enough of her profile to know she was a submissive to the bone. Every natural sub had a soul that found comfort and pleasure in helping others, so when she was hurting it only made sense that she’d cope by helping someone else.
“Tell Taz if he loses her, to go to the ‘Just Like Home Nursing Home’ east off The Beltway in Deer Park. She’ll be visiting Pearl Betts in room two zero six.” Kent simply shook his head and smiled as he relayed the information to Taz. Fischer and Peter were staring at him with a mixture of gratitude and fury, but he’d bet the anger was because they hadn’t spent enough time getting to know their woman to know about her elderly friend. But it was Eric Roberts’ reaction that was troubling.
Roberts hadn’t been surprised and Micah knew the other man well enough to know he’d have left no stone unturned when he’d investigated Lara. But his gut was telling him there was more to it—the man had fallen for the woman he was supposed to view as a suspect and even though Micah didn’t believe she was involved in whatever her parents were in to, Roberts didn’t have the luxury of giving her the benefit of the doubt. If he was compromised then his decisions all came into question and he’d likely run the risk of being replaced. It was the last issue that bothered Micah the most, simply because it was better to deal with the devil you knew than one you didn’t have any experience handling.
Chapter Twelve
Lara knew almost as soon as she stepped out of the building she’d been seen. The years she’d spent in survival mode had finely tuned
her sense of self-preservation, so when the fine hairs along the back of her neck stood up, she knew to pay attention. Damn, she’d been so careful and then to be busted by a giant with coffee. Hell, she could smell the cups of coffee he was carrying and if she wasn’t convinced he’d follow her anyway she’d take the small tray and tell him to get lost.
The drive to the nursing home hadn’t given her any opportunities to lose the man following her, although she hadn’t tried too hard because she’d decided all things considered, having a bodyguard probably wasn’t all bad. He’d sat across the street and watched when she’d stopped at a nearby convenience store to pick up a few of Miss Pearl’s favorite treats and then he’d parked a few cars away in the nursing home’s large lot. She’d felt him watching as she’d made her way inside, but as soon as she walked in to her elderly friend’s room Lara pushed aside everything else and focused on the sweet woman sitting quietly watching her tiny television.
“Hi, Miss Pearl, how are you doing?” Lara plastered on a smile that she hoped would fool the woman who had lived in the same apartment building where Lara had lived before she’d moved into the Barnes’ luxurious penthouse. Miss Pearl’s daughter had moved her to the nursing home not long after and then promptly forgotten about her. Miss Pearl’s daughter was a selfish twit who pushed her mother to the back burner until she needed money, and then she didn’t care if her mom skipped meals for a month or two because she’d generously handed over her social security check. Lara had made fast friends with the sweet older woman who lived across the hall and even though she didn’t get to see her daily anymore, she still came by as often as she could. Pulling over the small stool the staff kept for her visits, Lara sat down and handed Miss Pearl the small bag of her favorite candies.
