Heart of Steel: Steel Hawk, Book 2

by Eve Devon

  The sensor at the archway leading to his study went off, and Adam leaped out of bed, strode across his bedroom, and yanked open his door.

  Funny how in a house with three levels and seventeen different rooms, she’d zeroed in on the one room he never gave anyone access to.

  Instantly, all he could think was that tonight might have been a ruse to get him to lower his defenses and invite her to stay. What, did she think she could snoop to her little heart’s content and he wouldn’t notice? Wouldn’t care?

  Sounded logical.

  Mostly because it felt achingly familiar.

  Descending the stairs at a jog, he shot across the entry hall and into the west wing of his house. As he ate up the space, his one clear thought was that no one got to abuse his hospitality and invade his privacy.

  No one got to betray his trust. Especially not a beautiful woman. One who, he now reminded himself, hadn’t exactly been stellar in the truth-telling department.

  With his mind on the designs laid out on his study desk, his hand slammed over the bank of switches inside the archway leading to his private study.

  The corridor flooded with light, and Honeysuckle let out a shriek of surprise.

  Leaning against the brick-edged arch, he ground out, “Looking for something?”

  Honeysuckle whirled around, flinging her hand behind her as if to conceal something.

  Oh, he’d be getting to what was in her hand in just a moment. Right after his gaze had finished tracking hungrily over her. Her layered mane of ebony hair was loose and mussed and so damn sexy falling in her huge blue eyes that he almost forgot why he was suspicious that she’d found this particular room. She was wearing a T-shirt that barely covered her to midthigh, and across the front of it, emblazoned in bold lettering, he read one word: “Bazinga”.

  His brain emptied of every intelligent cell he’d been blessed with as everything nerd in him went rock hard.

  “Adam! You scared the life out of me.” She giggled nervously. Her large eyes ran down the length of him before scoping the floors and ceiling, seemingly looking everywhere but at him. “Caught me on camera, huh?”

  Adam’s gut roiled and his gaze narrowed. “Not every security system has to operate using cameras,” he bit out. He may have elected to use them in his latest design, but he’d be damned if he had to be a slave to them everywhere.

  In a bid to divorce himself from the physical reality of her, he added an extra bite of sarcasm to his “Can I help you look for something?”

  “No. I—”

  “Just wanted to get a look at my private study?” he asked, peeling himself from the archway to take a prowling step toward her.

  “What?” Honeysuckle’s eyes went impossibly more round. “No. Of course not, I saw the beam of light from under the door and—”

  “Trust me, there’s no way you would have gotten inside anyways. The door handle uses palm-print recognition—specifically, mine. So whatever you’re holding in your hand wouldn’t have helped you.”

  She flushed scarlet, and her shoulder lifted as she twisted her arm even farther behind her back.

  Adam took another step closer, trying not to remember the last time he’d caged her up against a door, when it had taken every ounce of his self-control not to reach out and tangle his hands in that glorious hair of hers and tilt her head for his mouth. “And in the extremely unrealistic event that you managed to bypass the code, you set one foot over the threshold and this place lighting up like a Christmas tree is going to be the least of your problems. Now”—he reached down and around to snap his fingers around her delicate wrist—“what’s in your hand?”

  As he dragged her hand out from behind her, the objects she’d been holding tumbled to the floor.

  Immediately, both he and Honeysuckle bent to the floor to reach out for them, her hand clasping over one, his over the other.

  He looked down. What the…?

  “I was hungry, okay?” Honeysuckle mumbled as he turned over the cookie he was holding in his hand and then looked at the matching one in hers. “What? You seriously thought I was about to commit B and E by Oreo?”

  He felt like the biggest dumb-ass on the planet. He’d thought— No, he hadn’t been thinking, he realized.

  He’d been reacting.

  Letting old issues fuel suspicion and distrust.

  “Oh my God,” Honeysuckle whispered, staring at his chagrined expression. “You actually did. You actually thought I was deliberately trying to get inside this room?” Her thumb jerked out behind her as she rose unsteadily to her feet.

  Adam stood and reached for her, his hand landing on the small of her back so he could tug her toward him and away from his study door. “Careful,” he breathed down into her face. “You touch that door, and like I said…pretty lights and all sorts…”

  Lush softness met hard, tight muscle and then half a second later she was pushing against him to get him out of her space.

  “What the hell kind of person do you think I am?” she accused. “You offered to show me around earlier. You don’t think you could have told me ‘that’s my private study’ and I would have respected that?” Arms came up to fold under her breasts. “Is it only me you find sneaky, or all women?”

  Adam winced. “I guess either answer lands me in an ocean of deep water.”

  “Oh, the deepest. So start swimming.”

  “I overreacted.” He searched for more words. Some kind of explanation.

  She finally prompted him with, “You have two choices, you either fall on your knees in apology, or you tell me what the big secret behind the door is.”

  “There is no big secret. I don’t like people messing with my stuff.”

  Sparkling blue eyes turned opaque. “In all the time we’ve worked together, have I ever once ‘messed’ with your stuff?”

  Okay. She hadn’t. His head? Definitely. But not his stuff.

  “If there’s no secret, it looks like you’re going to be doing the on-your-knees thing, then.”

  “Honey, if I ever go down on my knees in front of you, it won’t be to apologize, it’ll be to—”

  “Hold it,” she interrupted, making a cutting motion with her hand and flushing scarlet again. “Let’s stick to the apology, shall we?”

  “I apologize.”

  She made a keep going motion with her hand.

  “For thinking you were deliberately poking around my home.”

  “Fine. I apologize for wandering around in the dark and giving you cause for”—she paused and appeared to choose her next words—“concern. I got out of bed because I couldn’t sleep and I was hungry. Really, there was no agenda.”

  She was so damn convincing, standing there with Oreos in her hand and her Big Bang Theory T-shirt, which shouldn’t possibly be sexy and yet on her, was.

  Why would she want to get in his study anyway? She had no idea he kept designs in there. Resigning from Steel Hawk didn’t mean she was going to a competitor with his designs. Not that she could anyway, he counseled himself. Max had had legal add noncompete clauses into all of their contracts. Unless she was being blackmailed to steal from him? He immediately thought about her place being trashed. Had that been a warning?

  Staring down at her, he wished he could trust his gut that she had nothing to do with whatever was going on at Steel Hawk.

  He wanted to be different from the guy he’d become after Alexa had betrayed him, but it appeared he found it all too easy to revert back when faced with a beautiful woman threatening his equilibrium. Reining his emotions in, he asked, “Want some milk and fresh Oreos?”

  When the smile lit up her face, he told himself the relief that came with it was simply because he’d nearly scared her to death.

  * * * * *

  Honeysuckle followed Adam back to the brightly lit kitchen.

  Hoppin
g onto a breakfast barstool, she made a grab for the packet of cookies she’d left out on the countertop and shoved one in her mouth to stop herself from drooling over his superimpressive torso. As she bit down on the chocolate, her gaze slid down the naked length of his back to settle on the line of sweatpants riding low on his hips as he opened the refrigerator door and leaned in to withdraw a carton of milk.

  She was pretty sure that when he’d found her in the corridor, he’d been accusing her of something despicable like spying on him. Crazy, then, that that wasn’t what had her heart pounding and her blood pumping. Ridiculously, everything inside her wanted to know if he’d called her Honey as an abbreviation of her name or as an endearment.

  “I guess you’ll find it difficult to sleep for a while,” Adam said as he pushed the carton toward her and sat opposite her.

  “How about if I promise I won’t take myself off for a wander around if I do?”

  Adam looked to be weighing her words, and she wondered if he had any idea how hard he made it for a person to prove their loyalty.

  She reached for another Oreo and separated the two halves. “I thought in the morning I’d go over to my parents and ask them about my Steel Hawk key. See if there’s something I don’t know that would explain why someone would want it. Also, Mom has this huge collection of old photographs.” Honeysuckle paused as Adam’s gaze fixed on the cookie half with the cream as she brought it to her mouth. Her tongue came out to lick the cream, and when she saw his eyes darken and narrow, she swallowed dry air, lowered the cookie, and instead reached for the milk again. When she thought her voice would be steadier, she said, “I thought it might help to see if there’s any connection to the book.” Her memory flashed instantly on the photographs he’d seen of her dressed as Raven Delight. Was it any wonder he found it difficult to trust her? Her career history was about as illogical as his was logical.

  “Whoever wrote that book,” he said, “makes a pretty damning case for Nathaniel Hawk being the Raven.” Grabbing an Oreo for himself, he asked, “How do you feel about having an ancestor who might be a thief?”

  “It’s the ‘might’ that I keep getting stuck on.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “I feel like I need to find out either way.” She knew what it felt like to be accused of something you hadn’t done and she didn’t want to believe Steel Hawk’s reputation might have been built on a lie. “Some of the photographs in the book I recognize from seeing in Mom’s old photo albums. I’m assuming formal shots are a matter of public record. What I don’t see is how the author could have got their hands on the less formal ones, other than going through Steel Hawk records.”

  “You think someone from Steel Hawk wrote it?”

  “But if so, who, and why?”

  “Someone would have to gain something specific from trying to ruin the company. It’s weird there’s no mention of why the author wanted to write the book,” Adam said.

  “That’s right. Unless…if Nathaniel Hawk was what he’s accused of, do you think that legacy has been handed down to the families of his victims—that a relative of one of them, today, could hold a grudge or something?”

  “Possibly. Some things are harder to let go of than others.”

  “If the allegations are proven, what do you think it means for the company?”

  “I think it means we’re going to have a battle on our hands.”

  “The company is strong. You’ll weather it.”

  “Not we?” he asked, his gaze searching hers.

  She stared at the milk carton. “After Zarrenburg, I’m still leaving.”

  “Ah, the pursuit of professional advancement.”

  Honeysuckle swallowed. Could he have been any more disbelieving?

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Wary, she hesitated, but said, “Sure.”

  “Were you living in that crappy apartment—”

  “It’s not crappy,” she defended.

  “Relative to where you could be living, it is. Were you living there because it was what you could afford when you were dancing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think I mentioned that now you’re my executive assistant, you get a pay raise.”

  Anger came so swiftly Honeysuckle had to hold on to the cold marble countertop. “Don’t you dare. I get paid a better-than-average wage for working at Steel Hawk—I do not need some sort of payoff for what happened tonight.”

  “You should be living in a place with proper security.”

  “If it weren’t for that stupid book, you wouldn’t even know where I lived.”

  “But now I do know.”

  “Adam, don’t start seeing yourself as my protector. We both know you’re way more comfortable in a distant role. I appreciate you letting me stay here temporarily but I can look out for myself. I don’t need you coming to my rescue.”

  “Let me ask you another question, then. What’s the real reason you’re leaving Steel Hawk?”

  She wondered what he would say if she blurted out it was because of this. Because there was something between them. Something he’d back away from as soon as she put it out there.

  Taking an Oreo, she rolled it across her palm. “Maybe I want to try something different.”

  “How many ‘something differents’ do you think it will take before you find something you like enough to stay at?”

  “Where is it written that a person has to stick to doing one thing in life? Maybe I don’t have it in me to settle.”

  “You seemed pretty settled at Steel Hawk.”

  So ironic that this time she was leaving a job not because she was bored or disappointed in herself.

  She brought the cookie to her mouth, her gaze flicking up to meet his. “I’m leaving Steel Hawk because sooner or later, I leave every job I start,” she lied softly. “It’s what I do.”

  Chapter Eight

  Honeysuckle sat surrounded by her mother’s photograph collection, searching for secrets.

  Salted-paper-printed photographs from 1851 carried the formal images of Nathaniel Hawk and Rose Valetta on their wedding day. Even with the style of portraiture fashionable for the day, Honeysuckle thought there was a sparkle present in their eyes. As if they couldn’t wait to embark on the next adventure life held in store for them.

  Carefully she re-covered the photograph with the acid-free tissue paper. Flicking back the next leaf of protective paper, Honeysuckle stared down at the group shot outside the front gates of Steel Hawk. Her mother had included a photocopy of a newspaper clipping from 1854 which talked about Steel Hawk reopening after an earthquake had brought down the wall on the south side of the building. Benjamin Steel and Nathaniel Hawk were standing proudly side by side.

  Honeysuckle wondered if Nathaniel Hawk had traveled over especially from the London branch. Peering down at the photograph, she pointed to the man standing on the other side of Nathaniel Hawk and asked, “Who did Mom say this guy was, again?”

  Honeysuckle’s sister, Sophie, leaned over to get a better look at the man standing on Nathaniel’s left. “That’s Tommy Patchett.” She blew out a soft whistle. “Kinda hot looking, huh? Wonder what happened to his arm?”

  Honeysuckle had to agree. He might not look as conventionally handsome as her ancestor, but he had a certain loveable-rogue quality about him. “Tommy Patchett was our great-great-grandmother’s godfather. Mom said he lost his arm in an accident or something, I think, while trying to stop Prince Randolph of Zarrenburg from taking the Pasha Star.”

  “Could be. I was never as in to all this history stuff as you. It’s strange to see you looking through all these photos without your sketchbook beside you.”

  Honeysuckle felt the weight of her sister’s stare. Her fingers clenched over the page of the album in her lap. Sophie was right. There had been a time when she’d spent hour after hour thumbing through the leathe
r-bound albums, staring at the magnificent jewelry Rose wore and feeling so full of inspiration she never thought the well could dry up. Then, four months before completing her degree course in jewelry design at New York’s Fashion Institute of Technology, the well had not only dried up, it had disappeared completely.

  With passion, she’d started new designs. With desperation, she’d worked on them. And with growing despair, she’d given up on each one, knowing with absolute certainty that they weren’t good enough. Exciting enough. Original enough.

  Finally she’d dropped out of her degree course, and nothing had felt the same since. Until Steel Hawk. Until watching Adam as he mastered the project-design cycle, his approach so steady Honeysuckle knew even if that brain of his grew exhausted from creating, he’d see it through to the end. He wouldn’t give up. Like she had done.

  Being exposed to that, she thought she understood herself a little better now and had found a kind of peace. One that allowed her to turn what had been her greatest passion in life back into a hobby. As a hobby, she could control her reaction to it and avoid feeling destroyed, defined, or judged on what she produced or didn’t produce.

  “You okay?” Sophie asked as Honeysuckle shut the album with more force than was necessary.

  “Absolutely.” She reached for another album and opened it determinedly.

  Sophie let her flick through several pages before she said, “So, I received a rather enlightening phone call from Officer Janeway of the SFPD early this morning. You know I have a couple contacts there, right?”

  Slowly Honeysuckle lifted her head to face her sister. “They told you about the break-in.”

  “Imagine my shock that I didn’t hear it from you.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you. Besides, I’m fine.”

  “Well then, you should be commended. What with you being ‘fine’ after telling Mom and Dad about the book and ‘fine’ about telling them about the dancing and ‘fine’ about their reactions.” She waited a heartbeat, then, “Having your most personal possessions trifled with must have barely registered.”