by C. D. Hersh
She lied about being okay. She hadn’t cried this hard the first time she’d been shot at. Talking about what happened would help. He had to find a way to break through her wall to guide her through the perilous emotions.
He did a sweep of the house, checking the doors and windows. Then he went to the guest cottage. George studied the monitor system, flipping from screen to screen, a carafe of coffee on the table beside his computer.
Retrieving a mug from the kitchen, Mike poured a cup of the strong brew. Then sat opposite George and laid the bullets from the first and second attacks on the table. “You’re one-hundred percent positive this Morrison fellow is clean?” Mike asked.
Without looking up, George replied, “One-hundred and ten percent. Apparently, his quick thinking is what saved them both. Using the metal table as a shield was smart.”
“What are the odds a metal table would be there?”
“I’d say pretty good. People use rooftops as patios all the time, and a lot of patio furniture is metal.”
Mike studied his employee and friend. Something was off. What was George hiding? “If he’s not out to kill her, what does the man want? He appears out of nowhere right after she gets shot at. Then she’s suddenly as tight with him as a new jock strap.”
George looked up from the computer screen, an incredulous expression on his face. “A jock strap? You can’t think of a better image?” He lowered the computer screen halfway and stared directly into Mike’s eyes. “You’ve got it bad. You know, buddy, I owe you an apology. I should have never urged you to screw Fiona. It’s messed you up.”
George didn’t know the half of it. All he could think about, when he wasn’t chasing the men who stole the babies, was Fiona.
Mike shoved the casings and spent bullets toward George. “Get these to our ballistics guy. Then check Morrison for gun registry.”
George snorted at him. “Your normally sharp investigative senses are skewed. You’re seeing conspiracies where they don’t exist. He’s not out to kill her. Trust me.”
“But what if he is? What if he’s got some nefarious connection with the Mafia or this OmniWorld she keeps talking about?”
George raised the computer screen and locked his gaze on it. “New rule, Mike. Only screw the ones you don’t care about.”
Too late. He’d already fallen for this one. He wouldn’t be screwing anyone else.
Chapter 27
Fiona slipped out of the house before daybreak, easing the car from the garage without turning on the headlights. When she reached the end of the circular drive in front of the house and headed over the long stretch toward the road, she switched on the car’s lights.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she checked for a sign Mike or George followed. Seeing none, she relaxed, and headed for the shipping yard. Mike would be mad, but she’d left a note stating exactly where she was going, and she’d turned on her cell so he could call and yell at her when he discovered she’d left.
Last night’s crying session hadn’t relieved her tensions. Instead she was wound even tighter. Ready to explode any second. No way did she want to face Mike with her emotions strung tight as a guitar string. Not yet. Not until she had a good grip on her feelings.
A half-sigh half-sob escaped. It wouldn’t do to go into work with red-rimmed, mascara-bleeding eyes. She brushed the threatening tears from her lids and concentrated on the road and her workload for the day, mentally lining up her to-do list. She had three months to figure out a way to get the additional cash needed to cover the increased insurance premiums. What could she sell or cut in the shipping budget to make up the difference? With the KayFion gone she was down one cargo ship. A smaller ship, but it impacted her.
How could she keep OmniWorld from forcing her into borrowing more money from them? Falhman seemed keen on getting them to help, but she did not want anything else to do with the company.
A loan from Kyle wasn’t the answer, either. He’d agreed to participate in her double-cross scheme, but his insistence they behave like lovers made her uncomfortable. What would he want if she took money from him? Sex?
Stop being so cynical! Just because I have an angle doesn’t mean he does.
She refocused on the problem. Perhaps if she contracted with him to carry some of her cargo, at a lesser price than it would have cost her to run it on the KayFion, she could make some headway on the insurance.
But how would that keep OmniWorld out of the picture?
She hit the high beams as the car went into a darkened section of road. A small billboard appeared, displaying the words ‘Good Faith Community Church.’
That was it! She could sell the idea to OmniWorld as a sign of good faith she was trying to work out the prenup thing. Kyle stated he was not going to marry her without one. It was the perfect excuse for not letting them dig her out of another financial hole. They’d believe she was trying to prove to Kyle she wasn’t after his company. After all, you didn’t give money to someone you were trying to rip off. Unless you were OmniWorld. By showing good faith to Kyle and OmniWorld she’d be giving them what they’d asked for. Keeping her company solvent without OmniWorld’s interference would be a bonus. It could work.
Her heart lighter, she turned onto the main highway toward the shipping yard. At least one thing was working in her favor today.
Mike called as Fiona settled in at her desk. She eyed his name on the display, taking a deep breath before she punched the answer icon on the screen.
“What have you got for a brain, woman? Cauliflower?” Mike’s angry voice made her jerk the phone away from her ear.
She tapped the speaker button and laid the phone on her desk and answered in an even, calm voice. No need for them both to shout. “I left a note. I’m here safely.”
“Did you forget already someone shot at you last night?”
“No, I’m very aware of that, thank you.”
“Then do you enjoy throwing away money on a security team you constantly thwart? Because if you do, I’ll just send George away and let whoever is after you gun you down.”
A little zing jumpstarted her emotions. He hadn’t said he’d leave. Then she shut it down. Maybe it would be best if Mike did go. Before she could respond, he started haranguing her.
“You can’t keep doing this, Fiona. It’s irresponsible and dangerous and downright dumb.”
Intending to take the phone off the speaker, she hit the speaker button with more force than she anticipated, sending the device sliding across the desk. It dropped off the edge with a crash.
She heard Mike yell, “What’s going on? Are you okay? Speak to me, Fiona!”
Scrambling around the desk, she grabbed the phone. “I’m okay. I just dropped the cell.”
“Dammit, Fiona, don’t scare me like that.” The concern and fear in Mike’s voice was palpable.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She hoped the remorse jangling in her chest carried through in her tone. “It’s just hard checking in and being tailed all the time.”
“If whoever is after you manages to hurt you, it’s going to be a lot harder. At this time of the morning you’re alone in the office. What if he followed you? Let us do our job, Fiona. It’s what you’re paying us for.”
“That and my office security. Which, by the way, I haven’t seen much progress on.” She steered the conversation away from the touchy subject of her constant slipping away.
“I’m coming in today to work on the issue.”
“Good. I’m working a half day. You can use my computer. I’ll let my secretary know. I’ve got to go now, Mike. I have a ton of work to do before I leave.” She started to hang up, but he continued to speak. “Really, Mike,” she said, interrupting him, “I’m sorry I’m so much trouble. Can we talk about it later?”
“Fine. But
promise me you’ll lock your office door until the rest of the staff comes in.”
She rose and did as he instructed, lowering the phone to the latch so he could hear the lock click. “Done. I’ll talk to you later.” Then she disconnected before he could say more.
Mike stared at the cell, frustration churning in his chest. The woman was going to drive him mad. Correction. She was driving him mad. He shoved the phone in his pocket and strode to the coffee pot.
George appeared in the kitchen and removed a skillet from the drawer beneath the stove. “One egg or two?” he asked as he reached in the refrigerator.
“None for me.” Mike slammed Fiona’s note on the kitchen island. “None for her, either. She’s skipped out on us again.”
George read the note. “You’d think after two attempts on her life she’d be more careful. More frightened.” He laid the note on the counter and cracked two eggs in the pan. “What do you think is going on with her?”
“I don’t know. She seemed genuinely scared after the first attack. Although she did pull a gun on me the first time I saw her. She’s got chutzpah. Maybe too much for her own good. How was she last night?”
“More like a warrior than a weeper. She jumped in front of Morrison when she saw me. Grabbed his hand and stopped his attack on me.”
“I can’t figure her out.” He wanted to figure her out. Discover what made her tick so he could . . . what? Make her love him? He rolled the thought around in his head. Getting used to the idea.
“Don’t try, Mike. She’s not worth the effort.”
Mike stared at George. “It’s not like you to bad mouth a client. What gives?”
“She’s got issues. We don’t need to know anymore.” George rotated away from Mike, his stiff posture clearly indicating the conversation was over.
Yep. George knew something he didn’t know about Fiona. If he wasn’t telling, it must not be good.
“A Mr. Kyle Morrison to see you, Ms. Kayler.”
The secretary’s voice broke through Fiona’s concentration causing her to start. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she punched the intercom button while simultaneously running her fingers through her curly mane of hair.
Darn! He was early.
“Send him in, please.” She shoved the stack of bills she’d been working on under a file folder.
Kyle entered, leaving the door wide open, then crossed the room and gave her a big kiss. “Smile, darling,” he said, when he caught her frown. “We’re showing your office how much we love each other.”
Peering over his shoulder, Fiona saw her secretary leaning sideways over her desk, angling for a good peek at the romantic shenanigans going on in her boss’ office. Fiona plastered on what she hoped was a sappy grin and tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, giving his blond curls a tug. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
He dropped another kiss on her, mumbling against her lips. “For show, Fi. For show.”
Somehow, the electricity rolling from him belied the idea this was only show for him. She inched away, but he held on.
“You’re early.”
“I couldn’t wait another second to see you,” he said loudly.
Fiona broke free and closed the office door. “Mission accomplished. Gina knows and soon every female in the office will be atwitter over my handsome beau.”
“Fiancé,” Kyle corrected. He grasped her left hand and kissed her ring finger. “As soon as we get a ring perched right there.”
“We’re alone, Kyle. I don’t think we need to maintain pretenses.”
He released her and sat across from her desk. “Do you know some actors never break character when they’re on the movie set or backstage during a performance?”
Fiona leaned her hip on the edge of the desk, just out of his reach, and rolled her eyes at him. “Please don’t tell me you’re suggesting we do that.”
“I am. Every second of every day you and I have to be madly in love. If not, people will notice, especially the press.”
“The press?”
“When I’m not the CEO of Morrison Shipping, I have a high profile on Wall Street. The paparazzi watch me. My family will put you under a magnifying glass as if you were a virus. One tiny misstep and—”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” She slipped off the desk. “I have something I have to attend to in the shipping yard before we leave.” She jabbed him in the shoulder. “You stay put. Don’t leave this office and, above all, do not talk to my secretary, Gina. She’s the biggest blabbermouth.”
“Then she’s the perfect one to tell about the engagement.” He moved to rise, but Fiona shoved him onto the chair.
“No. Promise me.”
He made an X over his chest. “Scout’s honor. I won’t talk to Gina about the engagement.”
Uneasiness about his promise coursing through her, Fiona tugged a file out of the inbox and headed for the door. The second she stepped through the doorway, Gina hung up the phone. Squaring her shoulders, Fiona strode forward. The staccato clack of her high heels echoed in the unusually quiet office. She stopped and shot a warning gaze at her secretary. The sound of tapping computer keys filled the air as Gina returned to her job.
Swallowing the lump nearly choking her, Fiona fought the urge to run. When she reached the outer hall, she leaned against the wall, shaking.
If facing her secretary with this charade unnerved her, how was she going to deal with the one person who mattered?
“Wait, sir! You can’t go in there.”
Mike stepped backward, searching for Fiona’s guard dog’s nameplate. He spotted it under a stack of disorganized papers. Moving the sheets aside, he glanced at the engraved, brass plaque. “Ms. French—Gina,” he said with authority. “I’m Ms. Kayler’s security, and I will go in.”
“But she has someone in there now.”
“Who?”
“Kyle Morrison.”
“Just the man I wanted to see.” Striding forward, Mike opened the door, the secretary’s sputtered protests littering the air behind him. Once inside, Mike’s gaze cut around the room, anxiety twisting in his chest when he didn’t see Fiona. He spun toward the man sitting across from her desk. “Where is she?” he asked gruffly.
The lean, blond man rose. “Not here. And you are?” he asked.
Mike noted the way Morrison’s body coiled, readying to spring into action.
“Her bodyguard. Mike Corritore.”
At his introduction, the man’s body relaxed, and he thrust his right hand forward.
Mike eyed the hand.
“Sorry. I’m Kyle Morrison. Fiona’s—”
“I know who you are.”
Kyle stretched his hand out farther and Mike shook it. “Are you replacing George?”
“No. George is helping me out.”
“You run the security team?”
“Yeah.” He wondered where this line of questioning was headed.
“I need some security for an event I’m throwing. Would you be interested in hiring on?”
“I’m a bit busy at the moment, but I could send someone else your way if you tell me what the event is.”
“A party at my house, just down the road from Fiona’s place.”
“I don’t do party security.”
“Fiona will be there. I figured George might be there for her, and considering what happened the other night, I’ve been thinking it wouldn’t hurt to have a few more men around. It will be a high profile event. Wouldn’t look good if my guests got shot.”
When Mike hesitated, Kyle continued, “Money’s no problem. I just want to insure Fi—and my other guests—are safe.”
At Kyle’s use of a nickname for Fiona, Mike’s stomach knotted. He’d slept with the woman and hadn’
t shortened her name. If anyone had the right to call her Fi, it was him. He studied the suave, well-dressed man in front of him. Just how close were these two?
“I think Fi would be more comfortable if both her bodyguards were there, don’t you? Since she trusts your company, and your judgment, I’d be more comfortable with a security group you put together.”
Mike grunted. He couldn’t argue. The way she’d been giving them the slip, it would take both him and George to keep an eye on her, especially in a crowd.
Kyle peeled ten one-hundred dollar bills from the wad of cash in his money clip and held it out. “Consider this a deposit on a retainer.” He dropped the monogrammed holder in his pants pocket and withdrew a business card. “Call me this afternoon and we can firm up the remaining details.”
Mike took the money and the business card. The cash would help cover all the bribes he’d been making in the pursuit of the children. Besides, if Fiona was going to be there, so would he. Might as well make some money.
“Deal,” he said, as they shook hands on the offer. The office door opened. Fiona stopped short when she saw them.
“Mike. What are you doing here?” A worried expression flittered over her face and her gaze cut between the two men.
“I’m scheduled to work on your computer security. Remember?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, relief darting over her face.
“But if you’re not ready . . .”
She dropped the files on the desk, scurried around to the other side, and yanked her purse out of a drawer. “No. No. We were just on our way out.”
“Fi, I just hired Mike to do security for the party,” Kyle said.
