by Bella Andre
Literally the second the door closed behind him, Will was standing right in front of her, pulling her up, pushing the stool she sat on back against the wall, and framing her head with his hands. His he-man act shot a forbidden thrill right through her—the same forbidden thrill she felt with him every single time, whether it was smart of her or not.
Her mouth was suddenly dry as she looked up at him, her breath coming fast.
“You don’t like it when I touch you in front of anyone else?” He dipped his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm on her skin. “You don’t like them thinking you’re mine?”
Oh God. She could barely process what he was saying when he was this close to her, not quite kissing her, but heating her up all over just the same. “I’m—” She worked to gather enough oxygen, and brain cells, to be able to tell him, “I’m not yours.”
He pulled back slowly, his hair brushing along her cheek. It was incredibly soft. And he smelled so good as he said, “Not yet,” his low voice humming along her nerve endings. “Soon.”
She knew what she should be doing. She should be pushing him away and making it clear to him—yet again—that their kiss by the aqueduct had been nothing more than a crazy whim. But when he slipped to the other side of her face and sensually nipped at her earlobe, she forgot where they were, she forgot Jeremy, she forgot about his friend seeing them together, she even forgot her name. As if they didn’t even belong to her, her hands reached up, nearly taking hold of his shirt.
The toilet flushed at the other end of the barn and she felt the rumble of Will’s low—and clearly frustrated—laugh against her throat. “Very soon we’ll both have what we want,” he promised her as he slowly pushed away from the wall, then turned around to focus once again on her brother and the car.
* * *
By the end of the afternoon, Will was so keyed up from wanting Harper, he was ready to blast past every last wall that she was still trying to hold up. But rushing her wasn’t part of his game plan. She had to be ready. More than ready—he wanted her desperate and wild, the way she’d been that night at the deserted fountain.
They’d left an hour ago, without his securing another date with Harper. In fact, for the rest of the afternoon, though she’d been involved in taking pictures of their progress—and she’d been perfectly polite—he could easily guess that she was stewing on everything that had happened between them. And everything he’d said.
Soon we’ll both have what we want.
Will wasn’t a man who waited for what he wanted. And he wanted her badly enough that he’d been sorely tempted to ask them to come back tomorrow. But he’d corralled every ounce of his self-control and had, instead, let her go with the promise that she and Jeremy would return the following Saturday. When they’d do the dance all over again.
Until Harper wanted him as badly as he wanted her—and no longer thought she needed to keep fighting the inevitable. Because if there was one thing Will knew for sure, it was that the sparks between him and Harper wouldn’t be nearly so hot if they weren’t supposed to come together.
His cell rang beside him on the arm of his chair, signaling that his favorite person in Chicago was calling. “So,” Susan said after his warm greeting, “I hear you have some new friends.”
He choked out a laugh. “Evan gossips like an old woman. It’s only been six hours since he met Harper and Jeremy.”
“You know he always checks in with us on Saturday.”
Evan tended to be driven by routine. Will, on the other hand, called Susan and Bob a couple of times a week without any set schedule.
“He’s still a gossip,” he said without rancor.
Susan was the closest thing Will had to a mother. He barely remembered his real mom. And it was Susan, along with Bob, who had helped Will become the man he was, instead of the man his father would have turned him into. Susan had been a waitress and Bob a baggage handler at the airport, even after he’d injured his back. They hadn’t had much money, but they’d taken in each and every one of the Mavericks. Loved them. And treated them like their own.
Will would do anything for them. And the other Mavericks felt exactly the same. Their bond was stronger than any blood tie could have been.
“How’s Bob doing?” Will asked before Susan could start peppering him with questions.
“You know him.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “He’s got to be out there helping the contractor put the new deck in. Can’t just sit and watch.”
The first thing the Mavericks had done when the money started rolling in was to get Bob the back surgery he’d badly needed. He’d still stubbornly continued to work long after Daniel or any one of the Mavericks could have supported both him and Susan. It had taken years to convince him that a less physically demanding desk job might not be as bad as he thought. Then finally, last year, he’d agreed to retire and start enjoying life. But he wasn’t yet sixty and no one was putting him out to pasture, as he loved to say. He worked on the house and the yard, and volunteered with Habitat for Humanity.
“So are you going to tell me about her, honey?” Susan wasn’t going to let Will avoid the reason for her call.
“I met Harper through her brother. He was hit by a car when he was seven. He worked through the physical issues, but he acts younger than he is.”
“I’m so sorry.” She hated it when kids got hurt. So did Will.
“He’s a great kid. Enthusiastic. Positive. He loves cars so I bought another kit car, and he’s going to help me build it.”
“You sound happy. Helping him is going to be good for you, I can tell.”
Happy was as good a word as any to describe what he’d felt as he helped Jeremy mark the sheet metal. For the last few months, even longer than that, he’d been running on empty. But Harper and Jeremy seemed to be filling him up again.
“And his sister, Harper? Is she someone special?”
He didn’t even have to think about it. “Very.” He’d known from that first day in the hangar that Harper was special. And good. Too good for him.
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that, Will. I want my boys happy. And you deserve a good woman.”
Susan didn’t see him shake his head. She really did love all of her boys, so much that Will knew she let herself forget where—and who—he came from. Forget who he was.
If Harper knew what he’d been like as a kid, all the crimes he’d committed for his dad, the hellraiser he’d been even after the asshole went to prison and he’d moved in with the Spencers—would she ever trust him with her brother? Would she ever trust him with herself? She already doubted his motives with Jeremy. If she knew the guy Will was on the inside, all the lies he’d told, all the houses he’d broken into for his dad, all the cars he’d stolen, and then what had finally gone down with the Road Warriors…
He ran a harsh hand through his hair, knowing Harper would run a mile to get away from him if she ever found out. And she’d take Jeremy, too.
Because the hard truth was that with his father’s blood flowing through his veins, no matter how far he’d come, Will would never completely be able to outrun the things he’d done.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On Wednesday morning, the Mavericks gathered around the boardroom table in the main conference room of their headquarters in Palo Alto, near the Google campus. They’d be moving in the late fall, when Sebastian Montgomery’s new high-rise production studio in San Francisco was completed.
On the face of it, Sebastian was a self-help guru with a charismatic personality; a tall, muscular frame; and celebrity good looks that he’d channeled into a media empire. He spoke to vast audiences on anything from creating money in your life to finding your true destiny.
Sebastian had achieved every goal he’d set the day they’d made their pact to get out of Chicago. But Will wasn’t so sure happiness had been one of those objectives, except in terms of Sebastian being in control of his own destiny after being so out of control as a kid.<
br />
For today’s meeting, they presented a united front, all dressed accordingly in suit and tie—even Daniel, who was video conferencing from New York, where he was negotiating the site for another grand opening in his home improvement chain.
They came together as the Maverick Group on various investment opportunities, had even financed movies, their latest being with Smith Sullivan. And of course, there was the Link Labs endeavor. Matt Tremont, the Mavericks’ electronics genius, had brought them the prospect, since his interest lay in robotics. The group was also involved in real estate—selling, buying, renovating, developing—which was why they were all meeting today.
“Ray’s been waiting since ten o’clock.” Will flipped his arm to reveal his watch. “Only ten minutes.” They should have let the man stew for an hour. “Remember, I want to be the one to fire his ass.” Because he’d been the one to hire him. It had seemed like a good choice at the time, but a year ago, Ray Passal’s work ethic had nosedived. In the worst possible way.
“I know you’re pissed. I am, too,” Daniel said, his voice as crystal clear as his image on their state-of-the-art conferencing equipment. For the meeting, he’d tamed his unruly wavy hair and donned a suit jacket over his big shoulders. “But we don’t want to deal with the lawsuit if you beat the crap out of him. Even though he definitely deserves it.”
“Spoilsport,” Sebastian said, lounging in his chair.
“Personally,” Matt said, “I’m willing to pay for a ringside seat.”
They all knew Will had been the fighter, even if he hadn’t had a physical knockdown since he was sixteen, and he had to admit his blood was up today, itching to pound Ray into the plush conference-room carpet.
Instead, he asked Evan, “What’s the latest report?”
A couple of days ago, Evan had discovered that the majority of the deals Ray was claiming commission on weren’t Ray’s at all—at least, not for the past year. He was stealing sales from the people who worked for him. More specifically, he was bullying his sales guys into splitting commissions and giving him credit for their work.
“I’ve identified eight deals in the last year. Nothing prior to that.” Evan had meticulously checked every project Ray had been involved in. “Carstairs reported working with Martin on the Castaway Ridge project. Hanson dealt with Barry on Midland.” The list was long, all major multimillion-dollar deals. “And of course, there was Headley on La Verne. He worked with Drucker.”
The La Verne transaction had been Evan’s first discovery when he’d spoken with Headley, who’d offhandedly mentioned he’d never met Ray Passal, despite the fact that Ray’s signature was on the paperwork. He’d dealt exclusively with Drucker and was so impressed with the young sales guy’s abilities that he’d told Evan the man deserved a bonus. When Drucker was questioned, he’d said Passal had made him sign a contract the first day of his employment, splitting all commissions fifty-fifty with Ray because, supposedly, all the leads came from him. It was take it or leave it, sign or lose the job.
That was total bull. None of the Mavericks had ever approved such a contract. And the leads hadn’t come from Ray. He was a bully with a pen and an authority complex.
Which pushed all Will’s buttons.
Will had taken a short, fast ride in his Lamborghini Miura this morning to work out his tension before the confrontation, but his gut was still simmering with anger. He’d wanted to see Harper, drink in her sweet scent, steep himself in her like a balm. But he knew he couldn’t let her see him like that, all keyed up and ready to rumble. He couldn’t let her guess at the Road Warrior still lurking inside.
Yet somehow, just the thought of her eased the churning in him. Enough for him to breathe, to close his eyes a single moment, and feel the touch of her hand on his arm. And help him calm down enough to act rather than react.
“We’ll start with Headley, Drucker, and the La Verne deal,” he said.
Sebastian grinned, but it was a smile that promised retribution. “Since we’ve got a fox in the henhouse, let’s play cock of the walk with him.”
Will hit a button on the intercom, buzzing their executive assistant to usher Ray in. The man who entered was forty-five, but today he looked ten years older, his jowls sagging with the extra pounds he’d put on.
“Hey, Will.” His gaze jittered nervously around the room and up to Daniel’s face on the video screen. “I didn’t realize everyone would be here.”
“It’s an executive meeting. That means all of us.” Daniel hard-eyed the guy with a laser-sharp gaze.
“Sit,” Will commanded.
There was only one chair on the opposite side of the table. Sebastian had lowered it so that when Ray faced them, he looked like an overgrown kid in a child’s seat. He couldn’t even rest his elbows on the table.
“What’s up, guys?” Ray was trying for friendly, but Will could hear his fingernails tapping on the arm of his chair.
Will simply said, “La Verne.”
Evan opened a folder in front of him, withdrew a stapled sheaf of papers, and shot the package across the table. “The contract.”
Ray barely caught it before it hit him in the chest.
“Your signature is on the last page,” Daniel said, his crisp voice echoing out of the screen.
“Ah, yes,” Ray said slowly, hesitantly, his face reddening.
“And you took half the commission,” Matt added, specifically avoiding the word earned.
“Funny thing.” Will kept his tone mild. “Headley never talked to you. Only Drucker. And he was impressed with the kid.” He paused two beats. “He never even met with you.”
“Well, no, that’s, uh…” Ray started to splutter, then he sucked in a huge breath that made his shirt buttons look like they’d pop. “It’s how I train my people, hands on, right from the get-go. We strategize together. I write the sales script for them. I monitor their progress every step of the way. The only thing they do at this point is the talking.” He stopped to suck in another shirt-busting breath.
“Ray, I have to ask,” Sebastian drawled, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “Do we look stupid?”
“No,” Ray pushed out.
Matt waved a hand. “Why don’t we show him the other contract, Evan.”
“Sure thing.” Evan looked like a big cat ready to pounce on a lizard.
They hadn’t scripted the meeting, but the five of them had been together so long, they didn’t need a script. Right from the day they’d made their pact, they’d known exactly how to back each other up. Sebastian had gone to LA, where he’d founded a media empire, Matt and Evan had gone to college, Daniel had turned his contractor’s license into a billion-dollar home improvement kingdom, and Will had begun importing the right thing at just the right moment. But they’d all been there for one another with exactly what was needed right when it was needed.
This issue with Ray was no different.
Evan withdrew more papers from his magic folder and flicked them across the table.
Ray missed and it slid to the carpet. His chair was so low, he disappeared for a moment to retrieve it from beneath the table. The only sound was the rustle of paper and his harsh breathing.
His face was even redder when he popped back up like a buoy in the water. “What’s this?” But he already knew.
Matt stared the man down. The kid he’d been at ten was a distant memory. At thirty-four, Matt was formidable. “Drucker gave it to us.”
A drop of sweat rolled down from Ray’s sideburns. “He couldn’t have.”
“Did you really think you had the only copy?” Will asked.
Ray’s eyes flitted back and forth as if searching for a way out. Then, suddenly, he crushed the two-page contract in his hand. “This is standard operating procedure. I bring in the leads. I teach them the ropes. In fact, I’m devoting all my time to them rather than following the leads myself, which I could very well do. I’m actually the one sharing with them, not the other way around.”
Will lean
ed forward. “One—” He tapped his index finger on the table. “—we give you the leads. Two—” He tapped his middle finger. “—it isn’t our standard operating procedure to let anyone skim off half of someone else’s commission unless they actually do half the work. Which brings me to three.” He brought his hand down on the table. “You’re fired.”
“But I’ve got debts!”
Ah, so it was debts that had turned him away from being hardworking and honest? Even so, Will didn’t give a damn why Ray had turned rotten. He still wanted to grind the man down for taking advantage of kids fresh out of college who didn’t know better.
Will had seen it over and over again with his father and with the Road Warriors as they picked on the weak. It wasn’t just a way of life for them, it was sport—and how they made themselves feel bigger than they were. And Will had been one of them until he was sixteen and had tried to leave all that behind.
Now, faced with a bully like Ray Passal, Will felt the anger boil up all over again, the need to use his fists. “Get your things, Ray, and get the hell out. Now.”
Before Will let anything else boil over.
“But what am I supposed to do?” Ray whined.
Will stared him down. “How about thanking your lucky stars that we’re not asking you to pay back the commissions you stole?”
Ray blinked, swallowed, looked at the floor. Then, as if he saw it written down there how much worse things could get, he looked up and said two very simple words, “Thank you.”
It was only after the door closed behind the now shrunken and sweaty man that Will thought again of Harper. Finally, his fists relaxed. He hadn’t pounded on the guy. He hadn’t even humiliated him. He’d simply pointed out the facts.
It was a far cry from the boy he’d once been.
Sebastian slapped him on the back as he rose to pour himself a cup of coffee from the pot no one had touched yet. “Something tells me that’s the last we’ll ever hear from Ray. He won’t want to have to slink back around any of us with his tail between his legs. Good job, guys. We were brilliant.”
