***
Demma followed Kathleen into the conference room. As the door swung shut, she glanced at Ryker’s retreating figure as he swiped his badge at a secure door and entered. She smiled. It was refreshing to meet someone who didn’t fall over themselves, fawning over her. Meeting Ryker might be the best part of this whole horrible mess.
She slid into the plush office chair and pulled the contract toward herself. Her lawyer sat next to her perusing his copy, making notes here and there on the paper.
“Can I get you anything? Perhaps something to drink? We have an excellent red down in the cellar. Chateau Margaux 2009 Balthazar.”
Demma shook her head. “No, thank you. I only drink wine with dinner. I wouldn’t mind a bottle of water, though if that’s ok?”
Kathleen smiled widely. “Yes of course. We have spring and mineral waters from all over the world. Do you have a favorite? If we don’t have it, I can have one of the interns get it for you.”
And this was exactly the type of behavior which irritated Demma so much. Why make such a fuss over a bottle of water? Water was water, and it didn’t matter where it originated. She chuckled to herself at the thought of the horror on Ms. Barosa’s perfect face if she knew how many times as a child; Demma had drunk right out of a water hose in her front yard. Even now, she drank out of the tap at home. The horror! She made a shrug. “Whatever is available. I’m not a connoisseur of water.” Demma wasn’t a connoisseur of anything.
Someone produced a cold bottle and opened it for her. She took a drink and placed it on an ebony wood coaster with the firm’s logo inlaid with silver.
“I’d like to call your attention to section three, paragraph four,” Mr. Staple, her attorney clipped. “Ms. St. John has made it very clear there will be no full disclosure.”
Kathleen sat back in her chair. “It’s a standard clause. We can’t protect you from data leaks if we are not apprised of the nature of the problem. I assure you, none but upper management and the members of your security team will know the nature of your issue.”
Demma shook her head. “No. How many times was sensitive data leaked by the very people charged with keeping it safe? The media is full of stories citing a close friend, relative or employee.” She slashed her hand through the air. “No disclosure.”
“Ms. St. John, please be reasonable...” Kathleen beseeched.
To her left, Mr. Staple sat back and watched. Demma knew he understood her better than most except for Monty. Even though neither knew exactly what her problem was, they understood her need for privacy. She refused to back down. Instead, she stood. “No. If that’s a deal breaker, I understand. Thank you for your time.” She reached down to pick up her purse.
In alarm, Kathleen shot to her feet. “No, of course not. I understand your concern. Rest assured, we have failsafe measures in place to ensure there are no data leaks. You met Ryker McMillan. He is the information technology manager for our firm and vets his staff carefully. He’s former military and worked with classified data. His standards are impeccable. Any information you have will be safe in his hands.”
Demma thought about those hands and how strong they felt wrapped around her elbow. She did feel safe with him. Even though she had only just met Ryker, she trusted him. The thought shocked her. She didn’t trust many people and none with her past. Slowly, she nodded. “Alright, I will disclose my information to Mr. McMillan and nobody else.” She glared at Kathleen. “But I want a signed contract that he will not divulge it to anyone for any reason. I expect him to be the only one to have this material.”
“He and his team, you mean,” Kathleen corrected.
“No, only him and nobody else. If you want my business, those are my terms. I want Mr. McMillan to handle my case personally.”
Kathleen propped one hand on her hip and started to pace. Slowly, she tapped one long manicured nail against her lip. Stopping, she turned and faced her. “Digger, I mean Mr. McMillan, is not a Personal Security Specialist. He doesn’t do field work and prefers to stay in the background. I’m sure you noticed...” she motioned toward her face absently. “It makes him uncomfortable to be in public. Are you sure you want to insist on him alone?”
Demma frowned. She recalled something about one side of his face; something slightly pulled or maybe a scar, but it hadn’t registered to her. Instead of focusing on his physical appearance, her attention had been on the way he had behaved toward her. He was courteous, professional and didn’t fawn over her. He saw a problem with her cell phone and took action to correct it. She liked that. It didn’t matter how he looked. She had no room to talk anyway. Her own scars ran deep. What she needed from this company was the level of professionalism and detail orientation he had shown.
As if summoned by her thoughts, there was a rap on the glass door, and Ryker stuck his head inside. “Excuse me for interrupting. I have Ms. St. John’s cell phone.”
“Come in Digger. Perfect timing, in fact. Have a seat,” Kathleen motioned toward the only empty seat to Demma’s right.
He hesitated a moment but took it and slid her cell across to her. “I removed the app with the spyware, found two other security breaches and closed them. I also tweaked your settings for more security.” He pushed a few buttons on the screen and motioned toward her. “If you will press your thumb on the button, it will register it as a password. I suggest using that as a lock as it will make breaking into your device extremely difficult.”
Demma did as he asked and he smiled. Taking the cell, she placed it back into her purse and sat back. She glanced over at Kathleen who had been watching the entire scenario with a bemused look on her face. Demma arched an eyebrow and nodded. “I’m positive.”
CHAPTER 3
How was he even considering this?
Digger dropped his glasses onto his keyboard and leaned back. Raking his fingers through his shaggy black hair, he winced when one digit brushed over the sensitive puckered scars cradling his left eye from his temple down to his neck. The skin pulled making his eye droop slightly. He knew if he could stand the touch, he could pull the hair back on that side of his head and see the lines of scars intermingled with tufts of hair. He grimaced at the thought and subconsciously pulled the dark locks forward. It didn’t matter if his hair obscured his sight out of that eye as he had lost eighty percent of his vision in it. His left eye was the reason he’d been medically discharged from the Marines. They didn’t care about the scars, but the loss of his vision made a difference.
His musings were cut short as a sharp knock sounded on his door. He slipped the glasses back on his face. Glancing around the room, he spotted the screen containing the dossier he had put together on Garritt De Jääger for Bruiser Titus. Bruiser was a Navy SEAL, and he and his team were currently searching in Suriname for an abducted woman who just happened also to be Bruiser’s girlfriend. He hoped the information would be what they needed. In the meantime, he turned that screen off. His extracurricular activities were his business and nobody else.
“Yes?” he called out.
The door opened, and Demma stuck her head inside. “Hi, Mr. McMillan? May I come in?”
Digger motioned to the chair beside his desk. Unlike most of the furniture in the building, he opted for sensible comfort over senseless opulence. His office was for working, not entertaining.
Until today, that is.
“Yes, of course, make yourself comfortable.”
She slipped through the door and closed it behind her. Sitting delicately in the chair, she folded her hands in her lap. She studied Digger causing him to self-consciously readjust his hair to cover his scars.
“Please, don’t do that. It doesn’t bother me. I want you to be comfortable.” Demma’s dulcet tones wove around his senses. He could hear the sincerity in her voice, and he dropped his hand.
“I’m sorry. Habit.” He cleared his throat. “Since we are going to be working together, Ms. St. John, you are welcomed to use my nickname, Digger, if you wish.”
Her smile lit the room. “I like Ryker. But you have to promise to call me Demma.” She chuckled wryly. She hesitated a moment then plunged right in. “I know you don’t want to take this job. I understand you don’t work out in public. I hope you will forgive me for dragging you out of your office.” She looked down and picked at the pleat of her slacks. “I don’t trust easy, Ryker. In fact, you may say I don’t trust at all. I had an extremely bad experience when I was younger, and it led to me being in this situation now. I trusted someone and this is where it got me.” She shook her head and looked up at him. “For whatever reason, I do trust you.”
Digger was taken aback by the sincerity in Demma’s eyes. She had faith in him. He wasn’t sure why, but she did. “Most people don’t want to be seen with someone who looks like I do,” he started.
“I don’t care how you look, Ryker. I need your expertise. I need someone who will help me navigate the tricky convolutions of being blackmailed. There is information out there. Information I was assured was dead and buried. It wasn’t. That’s why I chose you. I know you will help me get a handle on this because data is what you do.” She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Also, I appreciate that you see me as a person and not a Hollywood starlet. I don’t need a sycophant agreeing with my every word. To be honest, until we ran into each other in the hallway, I had decided not to use Starpower, Inc. I need honest, reliable help, not surrounded by an army of yes-men.”
Digger sat back and considered what she was saying. She needed help that was evident. He didn’t know what the issue was, but it troubled her greatly. Now that he saw her face clearly, he could see the tired circles under her blue orbs. She had carefully applied makeup, but the tint was still there. There was also a tightness around her mouth which spoke of an overabundance of stress. His protective instinct reared up and he agreed before he could stop himself.
“Alright, Ms. St. John, I mean Demma. If you think I’m the best person to help you, then I’m here for you.” He put his hand up to stop her before she continued. “However, before you tell me what’s going on with you, I want to put your mind to rest. We’ll get Kathleen in here and sign the nondisclosure.”
Digger called his boss who appeared with the modified contract hammered out between Starpower and Mr. Staple. Under the scrutiny of both parties, the papers were signed. Afterward, Digger and Demma were left alone. He pulled a gadget out of a desk drawer and turned it on. “It’s a bug detector,” he laughed. “I know my office is clean, but I want you to be comfortable.”
She let out a held breath. “Thank you, Ryker.”
He completed his sweep then placed the device on the desk. Sitting back, he watched Demma as she stared at it then back to him. “It’s safe?”
Digger wrinkled his brow. Something was off. He’d done the bug sweep as a bit of a joke. He expected her to smile at the absurdity of it. Instead, she seemed relieved. He leaned forward. “Alright, Demma. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
She shifted uneasily in her seat. “Want? No, not really,” she whispered. “But I know I need to.” She opened her purse and pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. She glanced at it a moment before handing it to him. “I found this placed on the table in my dressing room. It was the first one.”
Digger turned the paper around and read it out loud. “Sleep doesn’t come easy when you hide your demons, wouldn’t you agree, Beatrice? Silence is golden, and gold is expensive. Instructions will be coming. It’ll be in your best interest to follow them.” He folded it and placed it on the table. “Who is Beatrice?”
She swallowed. “That’s me. Well, it was me. My name used to be Beatrice.”
When she didn’t volunteer more information, he frowned. “The first?”
She nodded. “I’ve gotten two more since then.” Demma pulled out more folded papers and handed them over. “One was in my mailbox, and the other was with my dinner one night. Whoever this is, he knows how to find me.”
Digger read the notes. “I have the proof. You have the money. We’ll make an exchange.” He placed the paper on top of the first and unfolded the second. “You can’t run from your past. I know people who would pay a lot of money to know what I do. Will you pay? I think so. I’ll be in touch.”
“Blackmail.” Digger’s stomach clenched at the distress on Demma’s face. “Alright, first thing is if you receive anything else from him, you don’t touch it. It needs to be dusted for fingerprints although I’m relatively sure there won’t be any.” He stared at the pages. “Are you sure you don’t want to take this to the police? Whatever this refers to could be handled by them. It may be a bit uncomfortable, but once everything is in the open, it will help to ease your worry. Nobody can hold your past over your head if it’s general knowledge. Today’s public is very forgiving.”
“No.” Her vehement reply startled him.
He glanced at her and saw her beautiful face drawn tight and her hand clenched until her knuckles were white. The little knot of anger in his stomach twisted more. He slid from his chair and crouched in front of her. Taking one of her hands in his, Digger gently stroked her fist with his thumb until it relaxed. He watched her face as her emotions played out upon it. Anger. Frustration. Fear. So much fear. He stayed still and quiet as she worked through things until finally, she looked up. The anguish and tears that pooled in her deep blue depths almost sent him reeling. This wasn’t just some spoiled diva with an unsavory tryst in her past. Whatever ghost haunted her, it was real.
“I know you are afraid,” he whispered gently as not to startle her. He couldn’t help himself, he lifted his other hand and gently touched her cheek. “I know you don’t want to talk about what is at the core of this situation. But, if I’m going to take care of you adequately...” Digger paused as the words left his mouth. Take care of you. Not protect, guard or take care of your career, but take care of you. He sighed. He’ll deal with his faux pas later. “If I’m going to do this, I need to know what’s going on. I swear to you, there will be no reports, no official documentation. I will not share one single word of what you tell me with another living soul without your explicit permission.” He paused before he continued. “Unless it means saving your life.” He winced as he added the last part, but it was the truth. Secrets took the back seat when it came to Demma’s safety. “But only if it is crucial to ensuring your life.”
She looked into his face, and he resisted the urge to hide his scars. Demma had them too, deep dark, gnarly scars that disfigured her soul, no less than his injuries did his face. If she were to gather the courage to let them out, he had to be an example. Lifting his chin, he tossed his head, sending his hair back and exposing the twisted flesh to her eyes. She didn’t blink, didn’t recoil. Instead, her eyes traveled over the bumps and valleys of red and white flesh. He saw her resolve waiver then break.
“Okay,” she whispered.
CHAPTER 4
The word left Demma’s lips before she could stop it. Was she really going to do this? Was she about to open her closet and yank the moldy, terrifying skeleton out and fling it at Ryker’s feet? She dropped her gaze to his hand as he gently caressed hers. She had to admit. He did make her feel calmer than normal, and the aura of trust buoyed her confidence. She could do this.
“Okay, then.”
He started to pull his hand from hers as he stood. Demma snatched it back. “Please?” If she was going to bare her past to his scrutiny, she wanted him to stay close. She needed the quiet strength this man represented.
He hesitated a moment and pulled his chair over, dropping into it and scooting it closer until their knees almost touched. When he grasped her hand in his again, Demma felt a surge of confidence.
She inhaled and let it out slowly. “Where to start? I guess you need to know how close Zach and I were growing up. Our dads are siblings. We grew up less than three miles apart and were inseparable. He was two years older than me but never made me feel like I was a kid, ya know; not even when he became a
teenager and started hanging out with other guys. I’d want to tag along, and he would let me. If someone picked on me, he took care of them. Nothing came between us. ‘Bea, friends aren’t blood. You are. Nobody screws with my blood.’” She harrumphed softly. “He tried to protect me no matter what- even from my own stupidity.”
Ryker’s hand squeezed gently. “Go on.”
“Chicago is hard on teenagers. Either you belong, or you don’t, and I wanted to belong so badly. Zach protected me, but he graduated high school and got a full ride to Columbia. Zach had mad skills when it came to lyrics. He won a couple of contests in school, and it transitioned into a great scholarship. Anyway, the family was so proud of him. The first Greenwood to go to college.”
She watched Ryker’s fingers as they made slow circles on the back of her hand. “Even though Columbia is in Chicago, he decided to stay on campus. When he came home for Christmas, I introduced him to Ellis. He was my first ‘real’ boyfriend. Zach took an instant dislike to him, but I didn’t listen. Ellis made me belong. I just didn’t know how much I would ‘belong’ until the next summer. Zach and I had a huge fight about Ellis over the Fourth of July weekend. He tried to tell me I was getting in over my head. He warned me to stay away, that Ellis’ friends were gang members. I knew, but I didn’t care. Being in the Blood Cobras made me bad-ass.” She guffawed. “Big bad Bea Greenwood, Blood Cobra bitch.” She shook her head sadly. “I was incredibly stupid.” Her gaze drifted as she remembered those formative days. Her bottom lip trembled as she fought against the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
“If you need to take a minute, it’s ok.”
She smiled tentatively at him. “Can I have some water?”
“Of course.” He rose and left the room. Returning a moment later, he pressed a bottle of cold water into her hand.
Can't Buy Me Love Page 32
