by Carol Caiton
His breath came in long, thick draws. Hers came in short, quick gasps. He smiled.
"I'm scattered all over," she told him in a whisper. "Like a jigsaw puzzle."
He tried to follow her train of thought.
"I need to . . . put myself back together."
He grinned. Damn, but she had a way with words.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he slid his hand out of her hair and backed up a step. "Yeah," he told her. "Me too."
She looked up at him, nodded, and reached behind her back for the doorknob. It took a couple of tries, but she twisted it and started to back inside.
"Jessica?" He bent down and picked up her purse, which had somehow ended up on the carpet.
"Oh," she said. "Yes." She backed up another step. "Thank you."
He smiled. "You're welcome."
She slipped inside, closed the door, and he started back down the corridor. He grinned as he stepped into the elevator. He gave his keys a little toss, caught them, and kept grinning all the way to his brand new ATV.
CHAPTER 11
As with any job, working road construction had it's positive and negative points. Insofar as the positives went, Kyle relegated the lack of shifts right up near the top. Working the graveyard shift as a cop had had its good and bad points as well, but the constant change of schedules was rough on the body. Besides, he liked working days. He liked being awake while the sun was shining. And he liked the hours he worked. Usually.
Ordinarily, he started at seven in the morning and left at three-thirty. That was plenty of time to clean up and drive over to RUSH before Hannah Breckenridge left for the day. But this week had been a bitch. He and everyone else on his crew had been working ten-hour days. It was Thursday already. Another inspection was scheduled for Friday and they were playing catch-up because they'd fallen behind. So chances were good he wouldn't get off in time to make it over there until tomorrow. But just in case, he'd grabbed a clean T-shirt on his way out the door and tossed it onto the passenger seat beside his lunch.
* * *
Simon leaned back in his chair and scanned the faces of the men seated at the conference table. All were men he liked, men he trusted and respected . . . with reservations where Ethan was concerned. Both Ethan and Michael were married now, but until their shares were sold, they continued to attend board meetings once a month. Soon, he wouldn't be seeing them at all if they voted on conference calls instead.
It was difficult to put into perspective what he felt toward Ethan. Did he like him? Hell, he'd always liked him. Even after the debacle with Nina, he still liked Ethan. To a great degree, he still trusted and respected him, and that was a conundrum.
Thankfully he hadn't formed any deep-seated emotions where Nina was concerned. He'd grown to like her, despite the fact that she'd turned his life into a series of erratic ups and downs. And hell, yes, he'd wanted her in his bed. But he hadn't loved her. Undoubtedly that was the reason he could sit at this table with Ethan and conduct business as usual. Even the sense of betrayal had dimmed, playing a secondary role to the disappointment of having lost a good friend.
Be that as it may, however, it wasn't his trust in Ethan's integrity at issue here today. Instead, by approaching Holly McGarvey and asking her to manipulate the linking program, he felt as though his own character, his own integrity, had been brought into question. It was an unexpected consequence that hadn't occurred to him until walking into the conference room, faced with the fact that he'd committed a transgression and was hiding his deceit from the rest of them.
He knew all of them had, at one time or another, called on Michael to work his technological magic for some borderline, unorthodox purpose. But he was ninety-nine point nine percent certain that none of them had altered the linking system for personal gain, and guilt now tugged at his conscience. It wasn't an emotion he enjoyed.
"Michael, let's hear from you next," Malcolm said from the head of the table. "Is Holly working out as well as we hoped?"
"Yeah," Michael said, folding his hands behind his head. "She's doing okay. But I ran across a few unusual glitches I wanna check out."
"Anything major?"
"I don't think so. Just . . . hard to find a reason for."
"All right. Get back to us on it."
"Sure."
"What about our website? Is interest in RUSH still on the rise?"
Michael grinned. He leaned back until the two front legs of his chair left the floor. "Yeah. We're up three thousand hits from last week."
"Indeed. If interest continues to rise, we may want to consider expanding to a second location."
Simon stared. Everyone else stared as well. Purchasing land in another location and building RUSH all over again hadn't occurred to him, nor, apparently, to anyone else. Leave it to Malcolm to be the visionary who looked fifty steps ahead of everyone else.
"Mason?" he went on. "Do you have anything new to report on the PIC organization?"
Mason recovered quickly. "Not at this time. But something else has come up."
"Tell me it's good," Michael said.
"Afraid I can't accommodate you this time. But it may not be as bad as it first appeared. We're being sued."
"Ah, shit."
"For what reason?" Elliott asked.
"I didn't get the paperwork until late yesterday afternoon, so I've only had time to check on a couple of things," Mason said. "We have a client—a young Middle Eastern woman. Her father, the petitioner, states that she visited RUSH out of curiosity and alleges she was coerced into joining. He goes on to claim she was a virgin at the time and he holds RUSH responsible for the loss of her virginity which, as a result, has rendered her unfit for the marriage he contracted."
"You've gotta be kidding—"
"A marriage contract?"
"What's the age of the young woman?" Malcolm asked.
"Eighteen."
"That's young," Oliver commented.
"You accessed her file?" Malcolm asked.
"Yesterday afternoon. I caught Holly as she was leaving for the day." He smiled. "I had to remind her that our membership agreement provides for full access to the file when legal action is taken against the corporation."
"Well that explains one of the things I couldn't figure out this morning," Michael said.
"What? That she pulled up someone's file?" Elliott asked.
"No. That she forwarded it to Mason."
"Was she a virgin when she signed on?"
"No, she wasn't," Mason said. "She indicated on her application that she'd had prior sexual experience."
"So we're covered," Simon commented.
"It looks that way, yes. I'll prepare an answer and we'll see where it goes from there."
* * *
Kyle was glad he'd grabbed that extra T-shirt before leaving the house. It was after four so he was pushing it, but he should have enough time to drive to RUSH and see Hannah.
Striding over to his new jeep, he tugged off the filthy shirt he'd worked in all day, tossed it onto the floor in the back, and reached for the clean one. Pulling it over his head, he tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. Then he got behind the wheel and headed toward the interstate.
Passing through the checkpoint, however, he noticed a couple of raised eyebrows and glanced down. His jeans were covered in dirt and sweat and his boots carried the buildup of dust and grime that came with the job. But he continued on to the admin building, giving his name to the same girl who had been behind the reception desk the week before. Then he strolled over to the waiting area and sat down.
Hannah came out to the lobby right away. She greeted him with both a smile and an expression of curiosity.
"Kyle, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?"
She held out her hand and he shook it, then let go. "I'd like to talk to you about Jessica. Do you have a few minutes?"
"Yes. Let's go to my office."
He followed her through the wide arch into a corridor, then into the first offic
e on his left.
"Have a seat," she offered, taking her own behind a desk cluttered with files. "Would you like some coffee?"
"No. Thanks." He brushed off the seat of his pants before sitting down and, for the life of himself, he'd almost swear Hannah was as innocent as her sister.
"Look," he said, "you don't have to answer this, but I'm curious. How old are you?"
The question surprised her, but she smiled so it apparently wasn't offensive.
"I'm twenty-one."
Only two years older than Jessica. Or maybe just a year and a couple of months. Careful not to betray his thoughts, he got right to the point. "I'm here because I want you to convince Jessica to quit her job here at RUSH."
Her eyes widened. For several seconds she stared at him. She and Jessica looked a lot alike. Except for the blue eyes.
"Why?" she asked, folding her hands and studying him curiously.
"Because she's nineteen years old, Hannah. And anyone with eyes can see she's never been with a man. This might come as a surprise, but men look at a woman differently once she's been around the block. The playing field changes—and it is a playing field. A man doesn't have to invest as much of himself before he can get her into his bed if she's been around, and I can guarantee he won't."
Lifting one hand, he held his palm outward. "I didn't make the rules. I'm just telling it like it is. When a man—not a kid, but a man—sees that quality of innocence in a woman, he conducts himself differently. He slows things down. He's more careful, gives more of himself. Call it whatever you want—human nature, the male ego . . . . Whatever it is, it's fact. And if Jessica stays at RUSH, she's going to end up losing that innocence to someone who's only interested in playing the field."
Silently, Hannah studied him. Then she smiled, a soft smile like he'd seen on Jessica, and she relaxed back in her chair.
"As a member yourself, Kyle, you know that high-ranking links aren't just sexually compatible, they're emotionally compatible as well. If Jessica applies for a high-ranking link, there's nothing to worry about. The other men here will treat her with respect."
"Like the asshole who suggested you might enjoy a go-round in the pillory?"
A blush stole into her cheeks. "Simon hasn't ever spoken to me like that before."
"So now you're going to defend him?"
"I don't have to defend him—"
"He's an ass, Hannah. And I sure didn't see Security coming to your rescue."
"Simon is—"
"Two weeks ago I found Jessica inside Threshold," he interrupted, pulling her back on track. "Do you know what goes on over there?"
"Jessica made a mistake."
"A hundred pair of eyes were undressing her, ready to start moving in."
"She won't go back there again."
"Have you even looked at her uniform?"
Hannah sat forward. "Kyle, it's part of her job to entice. It keeps our male clients interested so they keep coming back."
"Is it part of your job too?"
"Enticing our male clients?"
"Yeah."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't work with the public." She spread out a hand, indicating her surroundings. "I work in an office. I'm a secretary."
"Why doesn't Jessica work in an office? Christ, she could probably double the profits of this place in six months."
"I don't know why she chose the job she did. You'll have to ask her, not me."
"You didn't ask her?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not my business."
"She's your sister. You're older than she is. You're supposed to make it your business. Watch out for her."
She stiffened then. "Don't lecture me on how to be a sister. You don't know anything about my family."
"You're wrong. I know a hell of a lot about your family. Do you know how your father died?"
"Yes, I know how my father died. He was murdered."
"Do you know why?"
"Yes, I do. A man—some businessman in God knows what country—thought he could gain access to my father's assets—"
Kyle shot up out of his seat. "Your sister was the asset the bastard wanted, Hannah. He tried to buy her from your father—more than once."
She stared up at him, shock in her expression.
"Your father hired bodyguards, three of them, because he had the foresight to sense danger. Then he made sure Jessica had access to all his other assets so she could move his money off the continent if anything happened to him. She's nineteen years old, Hannah. She was alone in a foreign country where men look at women as property. Her father had been murdered, the maniac who wanted to buy her was probably half a step behind her, and she kept those bodyguards at her side all the way across Europe, right up until she boarded a plane for the States." He planted both hands on her desk. "Because her father told her to keep his money safe. It was his gift to his daughters. To Jessica and to you, damn it. And she did it, by God."
Hannah looked stricken. Good. Maybe he was getting through to her.
"Do you know she lives on the seventh floor of a high-rise with an extra deadbolt on her door?"
She stared.
"Do you know where I found her last weekend? She was driving around Clermont. Alone. Trying to learn her way around. Whether that's because she's new to the area or because she wants to be familiar with all the exits in case she feels she has to run again, I don't know. But she was tackling it alone. She got a job here at RUSH because she wants to get to know her sister. So what the hell were you doing over the weekend—painting your fingernails?"
"That's enough," a deep male voice ordered.
Kyle whipped his head around and found himself staring at the same face Jessica had slapped the week before.
"This is a private conversation," he growled.
"Not anymore. You're on company time."
"Who the hell are you, anyway?"
"I'm one of the assholes who owns this place."
Kyle felt a slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. "Heard that, did you?"
"Among other things. How do you know where Hannah's sister lives?"
"I'm a friend."
"RUSH doesn't encourage male-female friendships."
"We weren't at RUSH."
The guy narrowed his eyes. "You need to leave this building. —Now."
Kyle was tempted to ignore him. But asshole or not, he was one of the owners. That meant he could probably revoke a client's membership for any reason, which was not something Kyle wanted. For as long as Jessica worked here, he needed access to the place. So he clenched his jaw and yielded. This time.
Turning back to Hannah, he caught her wiping tears from her face and softened his tone. "Think about it," he said.
Then he turned around and strode toward the door. The other man stepped into the office, moved aside, and closed it as soon as Kyle cleared the threshold.
Asshole.
* * *
Hannah watched warily as Simon approached her desk. She glanced quickly at the closed door then back again.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
She knew the question had nothing to do with any personal concern. His expression was as stern as ever, his eyes inquisitive but unemotional.
Of all the people who could have overheard Kyle Falkner rebuke her and tell her about her own family, why did it have to be Simon?
"Yes," she answered, "I'm fine."
Wishing he'd turn around and go away, she reached inside her desk drawer for a tissue and wiped her face.
But he didn't go away. Instead he sat down in the same chair Kyle had vacated and waited while she dabbed at her eyes. Was he going to reprimand her for talking with someone on company time?
"I take it your sister didn't give you all the details," he said.
Wonderful. Now he wanted to sit here and ask questions.
"No," she said.
"But apparently she confides in—" He n
odded toward the door. "Who is he?"
"His name is Kyle Falkner." She placed both hands on her desk and folded them, refusing to fidget. "He used to be a cop and yes, he's a friend of Jessica's."
Simon frowned at that. Or more likely, he frowned because Kyle used to be a cop. Relations with law enforcement had gradually improved, but when RUSH was first built, when public outrage had been at a peak, interaction with the police had bristled with friction. At one point Mason had threatened the city with a law suit, and Security still called him in, no matter what time of day, whenever it was necessary to bring the police out to RUSH.
"Kyle was a police officer in New York," she said. "Or it might have been Pennsylvania." Now she was rambling.
"So your sister came to work at RUSH in order to get to know you."
"That's what he said." She certainly wasn't going to tell Simon that Jessica was here to apply for a blue link.
"How long has it been since you saw her last?"
"Not since we were both children."
"Divorced parents?"
"Yes."
He was quiet for a moment, then he said, "I have no siblings. I think it would be interesting to suddenly learn that I did."
"Jessica and I have had lunch together a few times," she offered. It felt awkward talking with him like this. Even when he wasn't reprimanding her, they'd never shared more than a polite greeting. "I didn't know she was driving around alone, trying to . . . . Maybe I'll try inviting her over for dinner again."
"You've asked before?"
"Yes. The day after she arrived. But she seemed distant and said she wasn't feeling up to it."
Simon rose from his chair. "Maybe traveling across two continents wore her out and she was just telling the truth."
"Two?"
"When she was angry with me, she fell into speaking Mandarin as though it was her native tongue. And her friend there, the ex-cop , said she'd been in a country where men consider women property. The Middle East maybe? After that, she traveled with bodyguards across Europe, then across an ocean to get to the States. That's enough to leave anyone with jet lag for a week."
