by Anne Conley
Pierce Securities was doing well, yet Simon’s head was still murky, his emotions scattered everywhere, a mix of pride, self-loathing, and incompetence.
“I need a sound off. Where’s everybody at with their cases?” Maybe he could straighten his head out with an update.
Deena was huffing and puffing on the treadmill. “I have a lead on that missing guy. Slade and I are going to Houston tonight.” Simon had given her this case, hoping she could prove herself worthy to herself. Simon could see success with Pierce Securities bringing it back to her. She was getting better, but everyone needed a boost now and then.
“Keep working on it. I have faith in you.” He managed a grim smile, making an effort. He really wanted her to find Jonas, but she was still learning how to work effectively with his boys. She was a little brash and a lot independent, and he didn’t want the whole Jonas thing screwed up, so he was letting her work solo cases for the moment. “Quinten?”
“I start the part-time bodyguard detail for Loveless today.” Loveless was a lead singer for a band touring around the Austin area. He’d received death threats from a super-fan who’d gone mental, and Quinten and Ryan were being farmed out to supplement their security. “It doesn’t look too hard. Following around a vapid folk singer, trying to avoid a contact high.”
Simon smiled to himself. His brother sounded happy for once. Valerie was doing wonders for him.
“Evan?” The man in question was doing his spider monkey impression on the chin bar.
Dropping to the floor, he used his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. “Dex and I are still trying to find what’s left of the human trafficking operation the senator was involved in. With the senator dead, the ring seems to have gone underground. There’s no fucking trace.”
“Can you find the son? Jonas?”
“No. It’s like he never fucking existed after high school. Even his college transcripts are wiped. But we’re still looking.” He huffed a minute. “And we all know the fucker went to college.”
Quinten murmured something that probably echoed Simon’s thoughts. Jonas’s college transcripts were probably made-up shit interspersed with illegal shit. If they were his, Simon would probably want them gone too. But they knew he went to Baylor, at least for a while when he was stalking Bonnie there, supposedly mistaking her for his step-sister. It was some twisted fucking shit, and Simon wanted him exterminated.
But he needed to find the asshat. He’d hurt Bonnie and Zack, as well as no telling how many innocent girls. Bastard needed to pay.
“What about Jordan? Where’s he?” He already knew, but part of the deal with Pierce was they all had each other’s backs and knew where the others were at all times.
“He’s working the missing woman case out of Banderas, isn’t he?” Deena Rae huffed from the treadmill. Jesus, she must be on her sixth or seventh mile by now. The woman’s legs didn’t quit, rhythmically pounding away at the rubber of the machine.
“Yeah, and he’s also looking into the estranged husband who owes child support on that other case,” Dex interjected on a whoosh of exhaled air as he pushed the bar off his chest.
Simon liked Dex. Acquaintances from the force, they weren’t really friends until Simon opened Pierce Securities and seemed to keep getting assignments Hollerman was working. A former cop like Simon, they had a brotherhood with more texture than that of just cops or co-workers.
Dex worked like Simon did, and was just as much of a control freak, which was why he’d retired early and come to work with Pierce.
“What do you got, Sarge?” Ryan questioned as he spotted Dex.
“Paperwork,” Simon groused. “And another job. You are all so busy, I thought about not taking it, but it seems like we’re needed.” He had to be careful and not let his protective, control-freak side interfere with the job. He honestly wanted to help all the people, but he also knew that was sometimes a fallacy. He could just be wanting to play hero and needed to be honest with himself.
“Nah … Take it. Spice of life and all that,” Evan grunted from his perch back on the chin-up bar.
Simon grunted. He typically didn’t work the assignments, only supervised, offered support where needed, and dealt with the massive amount of papers he insisted on. But honestly, Miriam was better with the paperwork than he was and could usually take care of it in half the time. And the way his brain had been the last few months, he hadn’t been very supportive.
His mind had been going crazy, running and whirling in so many different directions, he could barely get a handle on any one case. Maybe he should get out there and do something. Maybe that would be his anchor.
Simon got on the floor, leaning against a bench, and started his pelvic lifts. The conversation over, the gym filled with the sounds of grunts and breathing. He watched his motions and realized exactly what he looked like he was doing.
Maybe he just needed to get laid.
After his workout and a shower, Simon sat at his desk and listened to the power saw next door. Dex, Zack, and Evan had all moved into the same office space, and it was ridiculously cramped. They weren’t the only ones sharing an office, so Simon had started renovations a while back, and they seemed to be never-ending.
Business was good, better than he’d imagined.
When Simon had first started the company, it was for redemption. He wouldn’t lie to himself and pretend it was any other reason. He had past sins to make good on. Pierce Securities had turned into so much more—a relatively unified group of misfits who had banded together to redeem themselves and, in the process, each other. But Simon still didn’t feel whole.
He looked around the office space—sheetrock dangled in neat strips from the walls, dust everywhere, furniture was covered with cloths, and tools were lying around, waiting to be used.
That was Simon. He was definitely a work in progress. Redemption was still coming.
The scotch he kept in his bottom drawer tugged at him, but he swiped a hand across his face, resisting its pull. He’d been a little too careless with it back when Miriam had surgery. He’d felt everything falling apart then, but he’d miraculously regained his self-discipline, and the company had rejoined at the seams. Things had gotten better before they completely fell apart.
Of course, he couldn’t govern everything, no matter how hard he tried. But as he eyeballed the bottom drawer of his desk, Simon reminded himself he could control this. He would control this.
Simon told himself liquor would calm the voices in his head, but in reality, it probably wouldn’t. The voices would still be there, no matter how much meaningless sex he had. They told him he wasn’t good enough to run this company, he wasn’t living up to his parents’ expectations with their legacy, and he wasn’t doing enough for his family.
Yeah, he hadn’t shown much restraint with Bonnie and her stalking issues at Baylor a few years back, but he’d sure as fuck gotten her home under his thumb as soon as he could. She’d gone around him with Zack as soon as she could, but after everything else that had happened with the guys at the firm, he expected no less. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get them to keep their dick in their pants while working, and he knew Zack and Bonnie had a thing long before he’d even tried to keep them apart. They were inevitable.
And now Quinten had finally fallen in love. Lord knew the guy had been trying since puberty to have a conscience about who he fucked. Naturally, he’d found her on a job, much to Simon’s chagrin. He’d trusted Quinten, above all others, to not fuck the clients because Quinten knew how important that was for Simon. But he’d gone and fallen in love with one, even though he knew more than almost anybody else what was at stake.
But not as much as Simon knew.
He knew sleeping with a client was one of the biggest mistakes of his life. Although, if he were honest with himself, Simon knew he hadn’t just slept with Tonya. H
e’d fallen in love. And then he’d shot her.
Fuck. This was not where his mind needed to go right now.
Simon had a job. He needed to get his head on straight ASAP. Refusing to drown himself in the bottle of single malt in his drawer right now, he needed to get laid. Maybe that would silence the voices. At least for a little while.
Chapter Four
Lacie loved the sanctity of her classroom and the fact she wasn’t stuck at home all summer being afraid. She had a place to go where the atmosphere was untouched by the filth that had been following her around for the last month. Filled with light and color, she strived to make her classroom a safe place for the students who didn’t necessarily have the best home lives. But in the process, she’d made it safe for herself as well.
She cherished it. It brought back vague memories of her mother. Dad hadn’t been able to keep the flowers in the yard alive after her death, choosing to let them go and plant boxy shrubs instead. Here, in her classroom, as well as at home, she was able to remind herself daily of her mother.
Lacie was painfully early to school, obtrusively to get ready for her day but unobtrusively to avoid her own home. As she walked around straightening desks and picking up papers, she gave herself a talking to. She was leaving all the negativity at home, where it belonged. She didn’t need to show her fear to her students. This was where they came to learn through play, and Lacie was all about teaching. She loved being a teacher and watching the children as they grasped concepts and gained knowledge, even without knowing it. It was why she existed.
A knock at her door and a familiar throat clearing had her turning around.
“Hi, Daddy!” With long strides, she walked over and hugged the man who had raised her after her mother died when she was eight. He rarely had time to come into her classroom but had managed to visit more since last week. She hated that the evil following her had tainted his school the way it had, but at least it hadn’t managed to invade her classroom.
He squeezed her tightly, cocooning her in the safety only a father’s hug could. It wasn’t until she’d squeezed for a good thirty seconds that she saw the man standing behind him.
“I finally managed to get you an aide for the classroom. Mr. Pierce is going to help you out with your students and anything else you may need.” Her father stepped back, and the stranger held out his hand to shake hers. She almost didn’t see it, though, because … his eyes. The heat flashing in them as he stepped forward to shake her hand consumed her, a hunger that tracked through her veins and coursed around her body before it shuttered into a look of benign nonchalance. It was so fast, if it hadn’t had such a physical effect on her body, Lacie might not have noticed it.
Lacie glanced at her father. Surely the new man was vetted and verified because, with everything that had happened, she was wary of strangers. The fierceness that had flashed in his eyes was intense.
And this guy was definitely strange.
For one thing, he was dressed in a suit. Lacie had never seen a teacher’s aide who dressed nicer than the teachers. Or the administration. His suit was designer, she could tell that much. And it stretched across a frame that wasn’t used to sitting behind desks and working in classrooms. This Mr. Pierce was built like a small linebacker—broad shoulders, tapered waist.
But his eyes struck her most. Gray eyes with a light-green ring around the pupil gave them an eerie quality, but they were clear and held an intelligence that belied his position. Not that teacher’s aides were stupid by any means, but this guy did not fit into that mold. And the way he had looked at her sent shivers down her spine, and Lacie reminded herself again that Daddy had checked the guy. But his look was full of something dangerous, hot, and feral, all wrapped into one darkening gaze.
“Miss Hill,” he spoke, prompting her to realize she was staring at him.
“Sorry,” she held out her hand to shake his, “Mr. Pierce, it’s nice to meet you. I’m excited to be working with you.” Not that she had known about him, but knowing her dad, he’d probably busted his butt to get someone to help since the tire-slashing incident last week.
As her hand touched his, Mr. Pierce’s grip surprised her. Warmth filled her hand, almost a zinging like what she’d read about in romance novels. Which she’d always thought was stupid. But she had the inane desire to shake the tingling off her hand when he let go. His had was calloused, as if he was used to working. Although, if the muscles that seemed to shape the suit were any indication, he probably lifted a lot of weights. And apparently had an electrical socket hidden in there somewhere. The buzz of electricity that flowed up her arm was ridiculous, but he didn’t seem to notice it, with the exception of his sharpening scrutiny.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to it then,” her father said awkwardly before backing out of the room. “Have a great day, sweetheart.” He winked at her, then left Lacie alone with the stranger in the suit who was supposed to help her all day.
His proximity made her nervous, but it was a different sort of nerves than she’d felt lately. Still, she didn’t trust it. He was a man. And she didn’t know him.
Spinning, she went back to the supply closet, desperate to get away from him.
“I’m afraid I’m not dressed properly. I wasn’t sure what sort of position I’d been hired for here, and my mother always taught me that if I wasn’t sure, always err on the overdressed side.” His voice was deceptively deep. Masculine. Dripping with sex-appeal.
Lacie kept her back to the man, afraid the sudden hot-flash she felt would show on her face. She wasn’t menopausal but was hoping that’s what this reaction was. The last thing she needed was an attraction to a co-worker.
As she got out the paint supplies, she laughed nervously. “Yeah, Mr. Hill is famous for that. He likes to hire staff and then groom them for the position he wants them in.” She was wrestling with the easels, trying to untangle them without breaking, dropping, or ripping something, when long arms reached past her and picked them up with ease. Still not looking at Mr. Pierce, she reached up for the box of tempera paints and pulled them down.
Her heart pounded, and her breathing was ragged. The reaction wasn’t a physical reaction to the attraction she felt with him. Nope. The anxiety attack was coming, whether she liked it or not. Lacie swallowed past the lump forming in her throat as she mentally talked to herself.
This was just a man. He wasn’t an attacker. He was a co-worker. Daddy would never hire somebody who would hurt her. Mr. Pierce had the background check, the fingerprints, the drug test, everything the other employees here had. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
“Miss Hill!” The first student was here, and Lacie dug deep to find her center again, pasting on a smile for the children. She had a day to get through.
Simon was out of his element and completely out of control. He didn’t like it but couldn’t dwell on it, as he was surrounded by twenty-four kindergarteners intent on painting masterpieces.
He didn’t even have time to watch the woman, although he wished he could. After the first five awkward minutes, where he’d tried to break the ice with his self-deprecating comments about his suit, he’d been inundated with smelly five-year-olds.
And his suit was ruined, no doubt.
Honestly, he’d thought Mr. Hill wanted him on staff as security or something. He hadn’t clarified, which was his own damn mistake. Of course Mr. Hill would want him working alongside his daughter in the most hands-on capacity he could.
Simon had taken off the suit jacket after one kid—Alicia?—had splattered paint on it while he was helping her rinse her brushes. But he was afraid the dress shirt underneath was beyond repair, even though he was wearing a tie-dyed apron over his clothes. Thank God his sidearm was concealed in the holster under his shirt in the small of his back. He’d have to find something different for tomorrow. He was quickly realizing these kiddos had no concept of persona
l space, and he didn’t want to be the root cause of a tragic accident. Like shooting off his own ass.
After art time was a snack, and Simon thought he was safe from more spills, but there he went thinking again. A young boy accidentally sprayed Simon through the straw of his juice box, and now Simon looked like he had a pee stain down his trouser leg. Oh well, at least it wasn’t his best suit.
By the time lunch rolled around and another teacher had picked up the kids to take them to the cafeteria, Simon was a frazzled wreck. Thankful for the relative peace of the teacher’s lounge, Simon followed Lacie Hill like a beaten puppy dog down the hallway.
He’d packed a protein shake for lunch, not having a clue what would happen and needing something easy. Now, he’d wished he had a shot of scotch instead.
“Is it always so loud?” he asked as he sat in the mildewed seats scattered around a long table.
Lacie only laughed at him, along with another woman.
Churlishly, he crossed his arms, drink in hand, and chugged it. This was a mistake. He should have assigned somebody else, anybody else, to the job. He’d rather get a contact high from following around a hippie folk singer.
“So you’ll sign the petition to get a margarita machine in the teacher’s lounge?” the other woman asked with a wry smile.
“Shit, I’ll buy it for us,” Simon muttered as he shook what was left in his shake before upturning it for the dregs.
