by Franca Storm
I got it.
She was scared.
And it had her keeping a load of secrets.
Every time somebody new wanted to settle in our town, I had to check them out, delve into their backgrounds. It was just good sense. It’d become my responsibility to keep Ridgefield safe. I couldn’t have any unknown wildcards running around town.
Due to that, I knew about her past life, a life she hadn’t once come out and told me anything about.
Mosaic Designs.
Her multi-million-dollar company.
She was a powerhouse architect.
Or, she had been.
She’d run the thing for a few years then shut it down real sudden.
That was right around the time she’d shown up here.
I was willing to bet that the fucker who’d led that attack on her outside our gym had something to do with it.
I was gonna have to do something about that, whether she liked it or not.
A hand clapping my back pulled me outta my thoughts and I looked to see Finn grinning at me in a Cheshire Cat kinda way.
“What?” I asked.
“Good to have you out here at last,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and eyeing me in that pointed way I’d seen from him way too many times.
“Just say it.”
He lifted his chin in Dani’s direction. “You came out for her.”
“Yeah, well. Turns out you fuckers invited her up here without my knowledge.”
“You’d been treading water for way too long. We figured we’d help it along, or another two years would’ve gone by with you on the fence about her.”
“There’s reasons.”
“Yeah. I know them, Scott. I also know you’re used to the careful and deliberate approach when it comes to any significant decision you’re required to make. Weighing up the good and the bad, analyzing potential pitfalls versus gains.” He clasped my shoulder and eyed me all intense. “But, brother, that’s not how love works. There’s no clear, rational path. It’s not about cold, hard logic. It’s about feeling. It’s about the heart.”
“Never thought I’d be hearing you spouting all this.”
“Being with Ashley changed everything.”
I knew it had. He’d been more of a stickler for the rational, logical stuff than I was. He’d been as unemotional and coolheaded as they came.
Just because things had gone down that way for him, didn’t mean it was gonna be the same way for me. Or, that I was gonna let it.
I shifted my weight and told him in a low voice so nobody would overhear us, “I want eyes on Dani. Just a casual watch, but, she leaves town, you tell me right away.”
“Got it.”
“Good. And, just so we’re clear, it’s gonna be both ways for me. Ain’t gonna let nothing cloud my judgment.”
He looked real worried. “It won’t work.”
I stepped back, done with this conversation. I’d said all I was gonna and I weren’t into repeating myself.
“Scott,” he called, just as I turned and started for Dani.
“Finn,” I grunted in warning. “Don’t push it.”
“I’m done talking about that. This is something else.”
“Something that you can wait on until Church?” I fucking doubted it. It was some major wishful thinking. If it coulda waited, he wouldn’t say nothing now. It meant it was something urgent. It had me tensing, preparing myself to hear about some serious security issue he’d just come across. And, fuck, I had enough on my plate when it came to that with Knox’s goddamn black ops mercenaries.
“I didn’t buy it when I first asked you if something was up and your behavior the last few days makes it even harder to believe that everything is fine.”
I grasped his shoulder. “Finn,” I rumbled, making it clear he was pushing it and he’d better take it down and get back to respecting the chain of command. “I’ve been running this club for a long time and been a military man for longer than that. I know what I’m doing. You ain’t used to things being good, there being downtime and safety. Just enjoy it. Focus on the move with Ash. I’m good. The club’s good. Just fucking chill.”
He glared at me.
I glared back.
The tension ramped up quick.
“Are you two gonna throw down?”
We both swung our heads to see Deviant walking up to us.
“No,” I grunted.
“Just saying, if you are, we all wanna put money on it, because it’ll be a fight for the ages.”
I rolled my eyes at his brazen attempt to diffuse the situation with humor. That was his way. He was the guy you wanted around when things were bad, when the cards were stacked against you and you were in a low place. He was one hell of a morale booster.
Finn eyed me, then eased the two of us away from Deviant, so he could ask me privately, “Is this animosity about me and Ashley moving in together? You think it’s too soon for her, is that it?”
“You were standing still for two years, no way it could be too soon for you. And Ash had to put her life on hold for way too long, because of all the bullshit with the Rogues. I’m glad you’re doing it and moving things along.”
He frowned. “So, this isn’t personal then, it’s business of some kind.”
I took him in. He wasn’t just guessing. He knew I was lying. He knew I was hiding something.
But he didn’t know what.
I was gonna keep it that way.
I had to.
To make damned sure he stayed far out of it.
To keep up with the peace he was trying so hard to find.
To keep him safe.
To keep my baby girl safe.
“Everything’s good, so you can stand down. Just fucking well trust me, Finn.”
He stared at me for a while, then squeezed my shoulder, leaning in as he did, growling low, “Trust but verify, old friend.”
He strode away then.
Deviant gave me a questioning look. A chin lift from me had him heading back to the party too.
I watched them then.
My brothers.
Their families.
Their girls.
My family.
My sorta girl.
Knox putting that contract out to keep me back was a threat to all of them, to everything we’d built.
I had to take care of it.
I had to put Hammer and his boys down, then end Knox.
But with Finn’s suspicions, now I had to be even more careful. It actually meant that I had to bide time and sit on my fucking hands for a while.
More fucking waiting.
13
~Daniella~
IT’D BEEN TOO LONG.
Gazing through the windshield of my Sunfire in the courtyard, I took in the two-story mansion with the gray stone façade. Brick arches framed the gorgeous stained-glass windows. There was a Juliet balcony off of the master bedroom on the second floor. A high-peaked roof facilitated the vaulted ceilings within.
It was nothing short of majestic, exactly what I’d been going for when I’d designed it.
It was my dream home. A dream that had once been a reality.
I’d forced myself not to think too much about over the last two years, forced myself to forget how perfect and beautiful it truly was.
Being back here now was intense and overwhelming. Emotion clogged my throat and I found myself having to bite back tears. It was a hell of a visual reminder of everything that I’d lost.
I climbed out of my car, the beat-up, barely running thing another far cry from the life I’d once led. I shot a look at the double garage, knowing my Beamer and my Jaguar were nestled inside. With a heavy sigh, I locked up my car, then made my way up to the front door of the mansion.
I braced myself, knowing what I was going to find inside would be an even more painful sight to behold. I hadn’t set foot here since the night of the incident where I’d only just escaped by the skin of my teeth. I caught sight of the bloods
tains on the top step beneath the rustic front door. My blood. I cringed at the memory of that awful night.
Entering the lobby, I shut the door behind me, and forced myself forward.
I could do this.
I had to do this.
No more running.
I strode across the marble floor and took in the crystal chandelier hanging high in the vaulted ceiling, centered between the double staircases, which led to my office and three bedrooms on the second floor.
I made my way up the right one, to the landing, passing by a cozy seating area, and taking a left down the corridor. I reached the door at the far end and entered what had once been my office.
I drew in a steadying breath.
It was so odd being back, the clash of my old world against my new one having trouble reconciling one another.
I looked around at my building designs mounted in frames on the wall, those I was particularly proud of. Two bookcases full of reference texts took up the far right wall. I walked to my drafting table and cringed at the designs laid out there. The ones that had caused this mess and derailed my life in a spectacular fashion.
Rendell Manor.
It had been a dream to design, a real labor of love. The client had given me almost complete creative freedom, wanting his high-end estate in the countryside to be a one of a kind masterpiece, a seamless blend of modern and rustic charm.
After leaving a way too stuffy and overly corporate architecture firm, I’d gone it alone with my own company that I operated from a home office. I’d spent a lot of time paying my dues as I’d built up Mosaic Designs for three straight years. And when the Rendell project had come along, it’d marked the beginning of a new stage for me, a stage where I could pick what I wanted to design and pass on things that didn’t interest me or challenge me creatively.
But all of that positivity had gone to hell when the client had granted Wakefield Construction the tender. The company had two decades worth of experience, but the clincher had been the unbelievably cheap price tag they’d attached to the project.
I’d had a bad feeling from the start, since the moment I’d met the owner, Don Wakefield. I had a nose for rooting out sleaze and underhandedness. But the client hadn’t wanted to hear it. The savings promised by the builder had trumped all else for him.
From the moment Wakefield Construction had been hired, the headaches had begun for me. At our site meetings, Don and his team had been difficult, uncommunicative, and blatantly misogynistic. They hadn’t been happy about a woman overseeing their work. It’d been a tiresome and stressful task just to get through the meetings and make any headway.
Unfortunately, that had only been the start of it and nothing compared to what had unfolded a little way down the road.
Along with the regularly scheduled site meetings, I also made surprise visits. It was a policy I’d had since I’d started my own firm, a good way to ensure things were progressing efficiently and correctly, a way to assuage risk.
Two years ago, I’d done that with the Rendell Manor project.
That was when things had headed down a bad road, one I still hadn’t been able to course correct.
That fateful day was burned into my memory.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The shock of it actually had me doing a double take and second-guessing myself. Highly unlike me, because I oozed confidence and knew my worth. And I was damned good at my job.
No, the visual was undeniable.
As soon as I accepted it, the ramifications slammed into me, then whirled around my head with the violence of a destructive cyclone.
“Hey, doll!” a voice called from behind me.
I spun away from the foundations of Rendell Manor, to find Don strolling up, stuffing his face with a hotdog. Mustard overflowed and dripped down his chin and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, then wiped it on a pair of dirty jeans, staining the fabric.
Lovely.
Discreetly, I activated the recording app on my phone, then stowed it inside the pocket of my wool coat.
“Mister Wakefield,” I responded coolly.
“Didn’t know you were coming by. Did I miss a meeting again, one of those email invites get past me like a couple of weeks back?”
“No. This was a spontaneous visit. I was in the neighborhood.”
He looked me up and down, his lewd gaze taking in my black pantsuit and lingering for a while on my heels. It finally settled back on my face and he frowned. “You don’t look too happy.” He smirked. “Boyfriend problems? Or is it just that time of the month?”
Urgh. He was a despicably crass and sexist fool.
I gestured to the pit that was the current incarnation of the manor. “This is the problem. You’ve omitted the reinforcing in the foundation walls.”
Reinforcing was added to the concrete walls to ensure the walls would not buckle or crack under the weight of the structure above them.
Don waved his hand dismissively. “That ain’t necessary. It’s just a waste of fucking money, just something you get drilled into your head in those fancy-ass architectural schools.”
Unbelievable.
“You claim to know a lot about an architect’s education for someone who isn’t one,” I shot back in my rising agitation.
He scoffed derisively. “I know it’s all about covering your tight ass. I also know how the real world works, doll. Just trying to teach you too so you don’t make an ass out of yourself.”
“I’ve been operating as an award-winning architect in the “real world” for eight years.”
“Yeah? Well I’ll tell you what, I’ll get you a gold star for those ace observation skills of yours. But I ain’t changing shit. It’s already been poured. We’re all gonna lose money if I fuck with it now and we’re gonna be delayed. You wanna tell the client it’s your fault he ain’t gonna be able to move in to his swanky house on the date we promised?”
I folded my arms across my chest and told him firmly, “I’m certain the client would prefer a small delay versus his home crumbling. So, yes, you will be fixing it. ASAP. End of story.”
I brushed past him, but his hand shot out, snagging my arm in a painful vise grip. Adrenaline shot down my spine. He got in my face and snarled down at me, “I don’t take orders, especially not from some know-it-all, stuck up bitch.”
“Get your hand off me.”
He smirked nastily. “Don’t fuck with me or this will be the least of it. Don’t make me mark your pretty face, doll.” He released me roughly, then stormed off to his trailer.
My body shaking from his sudden burst of aggression and his violent threat, I stayed rooted to the spot, trying to catch my breath and regain my equilibrium.
The door of the trailer slamming jolted me out of myself and I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, then switched off the recording.
Another policy I’d put in place that had now proven invaluable.
After that nasty interaction and Don’s obstinate refusal to fix what had needed fixing, not to mention his blatant threat, I’d had to see to it another way. I’d refused to allow my design to be built by a bunch of aggressive, dangerous cowboy builders.
Over the next couple of weeks, I’d looked into Wakefield Construction and Don himself. I’d found a wealth of disturbing information. He’d actually owned another construction company before Wakefield and there had been so many reports of defects, cost-cutting at the expense and endangerment of their clients, to the detriment of the properties he’d built. One particular case had been particularly disturbing. Don had built a townhouse under his previous company name and substituted a fire-rated wall assembly with a standard interior wall assembly for the entire project, which had led to the entire complex burning down when a fire had started in the central unit in the middle of the night. It had spread throughout the entire complex, causing horrific property damage and sending multiple people to the hospital for burns and smoke inhalation.
How he had
avoided criminal charges had been a mystery at the time. Until I’d discovered his connections. His older brother, Gus, was an Assistant District Attorney. He’d covered it up and protected him.
Basically, Don had a pattern.
He undercut competitors significantly to win tenders, able to do so by substituting improper building materials after the fact, disregarding what was detailed in the architectural designs and specifications.
His practices were dangerous and he had to be stopped.
So, despite his threat to me, I’d gone ahead and presented my findings on him to my lawyer and the press to prevent him from doing damage like that to anyone ever again.
It'd ruined him. He'd lost his license and was barred from working in that field. Again, his brother had helped him to avoid serious charges, reducing the offenses down to negligence instead, his punishment merely paying damages.
One night, the bastard had broken into my home as I’d been sitting down watching a movie with a beer in hand. He’d attacked me, used the beer bottle against me and I’d only just managed to get away with my life.
And two years later, his rage and quest for vengeance still burned as hot as it had the night he’d invaded my home.
“Fucking nightmare,” I breathed as I rolled up all the designs for Rendell Manor and left my office.
I headed downstairs, intending to visit the main floor bathroom, the place I’d run to that night, locked myself inside to try to stop the bleeding from the nasty wound the maniac had inflicted, before I’d climbed out of the window and escaped through the forest.
I couldn’t actually believe I’d managed to climb out of a window in that wounded and bloodied state. Apparently, adrenaline could make miracles happen.
I felt myself tensing, anxiety starting to ramp up as I neared the living room, the stop just before the bathroom in question.
I was here to face what I’d run from, to ready myself to do what I needed to.
Deal with Don once and for all and get my life back.
I stilled outside the living room.
