The Fixer

by HelenKay Dimon

  Though he had to admit he’d questioned his word choices after he left her. Maybe he came off a bit heavy-handed. Not that she seemed even a little afraid of him. At one point he’d gotten the distinct impression she toyed with the idea of punching him, which he found incredibly hot. Her face, her quick responses, the way she didn’t seem even a little intimidated by him . . . so fucking hot.

  But since she all but kicked the chair out from under him, maybe his women skills were even rustier than he wanted to believe.

  Garrett kept staring. The judgy kind of staring. “Did you use your real name?”

  “Do I ever?” He kept up his perfectly crafted image intact, like always. The image where all but a select few thought he was the assistant to some mysterious businessman named Wren. Never mind that he actually was Wren. He slept just fine letting people call him Brian Jacobs and view him as someone who answered to the boss. Being able to move around and stoke the whispers only added to his credibility and ability to demand top dollar, so he didn’t fight it.

  “Well, you screwed up something, my friend.” Garrett looked like he was trying to swallow his smile and failing brilliantly at it. “Which I admit is a surprise.”

  Friend or not, Garrett was enjoying this too much. That made one of them. “Get to your point.”

  “She made another call to the senator ten minutes ago.” Garrett coughed into his hand in what had to be the worst fake cough ever performed. “Probably right after you got coffee this morning.”

  Wren’s temper spiked. The woman refused to listen. He wasn’t sure whether to be furious or impressed. People did not ignore his warnings. He’d done her a favor and she’d pushed it aside, as if trying to put him on the defensive.

  The hotness thing hit him again. With that attitude, she spiked right off the scale. Pulled his attention in different directions. Off work. On her.

  Wren didn’t care for the sensation one bit . . . well, maybe a little. “Isn’t she enterprising?”

  “Maybe her coffee date didn’t go well.” Garrett cleared his throat. “It appears a creepy man sat down and tried to scare her.”

  That was just fucking great. “You followed me?”

  “Her.” Garrett held up his hands. “Hey, you’re the one who told me to watch her ‘just in case’ and all that. It’s not my fault that you walked into the middle of my perfect surveillance.”

  Wren balanced his elbows on the edge of his desk and rubbed his forehead. He tried to close his eyes and think this through, figure out a way to handle the woman without compromising himself. Appealing to her logical side hadn’t worked. No question about that.

  He looked up at Garrett again. “I thought I could talk some sense into her.”

  Garrett rested his hands on the back of the chair in front of him. “And how did that go exactly?”

  “Clearly not well.” That would teach him to try to reason problems through rather than just make a plan and implement it from a distance.

  Not in the mood for Garrett’s joking, Wren picked up the file and opened the cover. Paged through the newest round of photos of Emery. She looked confident and in control. That was nothing compared to the real-life version. The version that seemed to be kicking his ass.

  “Did you tell her where you work or use your usual alias? In other words, did you lose your mind and give her enough information to trace you back here?” Garrett asked.

  Wren decided to ignore the amusement in Garrett’s voice. As if this was his first day in covert operations. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Right. I’m the one acting strange today.” Garrett’s smile faded and a serious thread tinged his tone. “She really is trouble.”

  No way could Wren deny that. “No kidding.”

  “Not someone you should be rushing off to meet for coffee.”

  “Agreed.” And that wasn’t what happened, but Wren didn’t feel as if he had the moral high ground to fight that battle right now. Not when all he could think about was going back and finding her.

  “Should I try to talk with her?”

  “I’ll handle her.” He created this mess by letting who she was, with her do-good job and quiet life, get to him. By not shutting down her digging right at the start. For the way her face floated through his mind when he closed his eyes and sometimes when they were open.

  Garrett frowned. “When you say handle . . . ?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” That wasn’t a lie. No subterfuge there. Wren had tried the easy way and she’d barely waited until he left her side before calling on her political contacts again. She was the not-easy-to-back-down type, which he feared he was just figuring out might be his type.

  Garrett hummed. “This is a first.”

  “She’s innocent.” Wren continued to page through the new information in the file, which consisted mostly of her movements and more photos. Both interested him far too much. “We need to tread carefully.”

  “Okay.”

  Wren’s head popped up and he pinned Garrett with a glare. “Don’t.”

  Garrett held out his arms. “I’m just standing here.”

  “Some people are smart enough to be afraid of me.” The people who knew his name, which constituted a small circle. Most people had never heard of him, which was exactly how he wanted it. That way he could strike without warning then retreat into the shadows.

  “Not me.” Garrett shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “When did that happen? I just want to know so I don’t repeat the mistake with the person I pick to replace you.”

  Garrett laughed. “You didn’t hire me to be a ‘yes’ man and you’re not going to fire me if we disagree. You told me that when you gave me the job.”

  “A decision I regret at the moment.” Which was not the case at all. Wren relied on Garrett far more than he ever intended to, but he’d gotten used to having someone to discuss strategy with and had liked Garrett from the moment they met. That was a big statement since he didn’t take the time to like many people.

  “You’ll remember from my reports on her that Ms. Finn goes to that coffee shop almost every weekday.” Garrett stood up straight again as he pointed out lines in the report. “Though it might be better if you ignore that fact.”

  Wren almost hated to ask. “Why?”

  “Because if you get any creepier she’ll never sleep with you.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Wren wasn’t completely sure which part he was responding to.

  “Right.” Garrett shot him a nice-try grin. “When you meet her for coffee tomorrow will you bring back one for me?”

  CHAPTER 3

  This guy needed to be taught a lesson.

  As if she couldn’t see him sitting out there in his fancy car, right across the street. Whatever Wren paid this enforcer or minion, or whatever he was, it was too much. He seemed to suck at subterfuge. Really, she spotted him out there without pulling back her curtain or getting binoculars.

  The guy from the coffee shop. The runner. He dropped his mysterious, nonsense comments then took off. And now it looked like he’d followed her home, or worse, he’d figured out where she lived without her help and stationed himself in front of her apartment building.

  The jackass.

  Emery debated calling the police or a male friend—someone who could go out there with her while she yelled at him. She knew better to go out alone . . . mostly. But for some reason when she thought of this guy she didn’t get hit with a punch of fear. She lived in the city. She knew that sensation. The itchiness at the base of her neck that made her pick up her pace while walking home from the metro on dark nights.

  She’d long ago developed the skill of looking forward while scanning her surroundings and not moving her head. Positioning her keys just right for a strike in her hand, if needed. Ignoring the catcalls. Planning her schedule so that she minimized risk. She hated that she had to take precautions, but life had taught her a harsh lesson about how easy it is for a young woman to disappear. The faces staring back
at her in the missing-persons databases she searched all day long just highlighted that horror.

  But she refused to be a victim. If Wren wanted to talk to her then he could crawl out from whatever rock he hid under. Sending his sidekick to bully her, or whatever that was supposed to be back in the coffeehouse, was not the answer. Not him. Sure, this guy threw her off. Made her restless and urged her to fight back, but he didn’t scare her. She should find him creepy, because it sure seemed like that was the impression he was aiming for, but there was something else. So, she wanted him gone.

  Grabbing her phone and the bat she kept near the door, she headed for the hallway. Snuck down the corridor to the emergency staircase at the back instead of to the apartment building’s entrance. There was no need to make this easy on him. If he wanted to skulk around, fine. But she refused to pretend he wasn’t out there.

  She’d give him one chance to leave. Her next move was a 9–1–1 call.

  Her sneakers thudded against the steps. She turned and slipped into the laundry room and kept going. Pressed her key fob against the security pad and opened the door at the far end. Then it was a quick walk to the emergency exit a few feet away. The not-so-obvious exit.

  She skipped running through the alley because no way was that happening. She insisted on using well-lit paths only. A jog around the building next to hers took her to the end of the block. From there she ducked as she sprinted across the street and slipped between two cars.

  It was all a bit covert and dramatic for her taste. She preferred a quieter, practical existence. One that didn’t include racing around with a bat, but she refused to hide. He needed to see her coming. She had a point to make and would use the weapon to do that, if needed.

  She slid along the side of his sedan. Black, of course. It had an expensive, foreboding feel, just like him. For whatever reason he hadn’t parked in a dark corner. Nope. He idled right there in a prime parking space, which had to be a violation of city parking etiquette. Taking up space just because did not go over well with her neighbors.

  Streetlights lit her path and bathed the area around her in a sharp yellow glow. Fine with her. The more light, the better.

  After a quick nod to the couple standing at the building entrance across from hers, some of her anxiety eased. Witnesses . . . perfect. With the slight twinge of worry gone, the adrenaline coursing through her ticked up. She was pretty sure she could lift his car if she had to right now.

  She stopped on the driver’s side and tapped the end of the bat against the window. The guy didn’t even jump. Hell, he looked close to smiling.

  He reached down and the door started to open. She slammed her foot against it and shoved with all her might. Did not lower the bat as the door clicked shut again.

  He wasn’t smiling now.

  “Open the window.” She shouted the order more from the energy pounding through her than any worry about being heard.

  Cars traveled down the street. The couple watched from twenty feet away, fully engaged now. Emery blocked it all and focused on her would-be stalker.

  The window lowered as his eyebrow rose. “Yes?”

  “I called the police.”

  His gaze dipped to her bat then back to her face again. “I don’t think so.”

  Okay, no. Still . . . “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

  The cocky bastard didn’t show any surprise. Didn’t appear to wet his pants, which was a shame. She’d kind of hoped for that reaction when she brought the bat.

  “If you’d called, the dispatcher would have told you to wait inside and definitely not confront me.” His hands rested at the bottom of the steering wheel, well within view and not moving. “While I think you’re impulsive, you’re also clearly smart.”

  That’s it. He spouted off police jargon then stopped after another nonsense sentence. “This is your last warning.”

  He closed one eye and peeked up at her. “About what exactly?”

  She decided to ignore that. Opted to look up and down the side of the car instead. “I bet it’s expensive to replace the glass on this thing.”

  “Okay, tell me this. What law am I breaking?”

  She refused to babble or back down. “You’re stalking me.”

  She actually didn’t know what he was doing. Probably protecting his boss’s interests and checking her out for some sort of security file. Whatever it was, she didn’t like it. Didn’t appreciate the way it made her feel as the action robbed her of both control and privacy.

  One of his hands lifted before settling back on the wheel again. “I’m sitting in a car on a street in the city I live in.”

  So smooth. She fought the temptation to smash his side mirror. “Look, if you want to do this dance, we will.”

  This time he frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “You follow me. I’ll follow you.” She liked the idea as soon as it left her mouth.

  “You think you’re going to—”

  “Exactly.” She’d bet he’d hate that, which made her warm to the idea even more. “Eventually, you’ll lead me back to Wren, so let’s go.”

  His frown hadn’t eased. “Do you even have a car?”

  “Is that the point?” It kind of was a big downside to her follow-him plan.

  “I think you’re a little confused about what’s happening here.”

  “You’re watching me for him.” She felt more secure with every sentence. This guy—Brian or whatever was written on his coffee cup—didn’t make any move to hurt her. She could see inside his car and didn’t spot a weapon. He’d even toned down his threats. So far. “I get it. I asked around about Mr. Mysterious and it ticked him off.”

  “This is fascinating.”

  Man, some of the stuff he said made her want to punch him. “You know what?”

  That almost-smile came roaring back. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

  “I don’t care if he’s pissed.” She tapped the end of the bat into her palm. Not hard enough to sting, but with enough oomph to make a noise. “He should stop hiding behind you and come out and talk to me.”

  “You think he’s a coward?” The guy choked on the last word.

  Sure, why not? “That’s right.”

  “If he is as dangerous as you say then—”

  “I called him mysterious.” Everyone else called Wren dangerous. She was desperately trying to ignore that point as well as the honking from the guy who pulled up next to her and clearly wanted this parking space. She finally motioned for him to move on. When she looked back to this Brian guy all traces of amusement had disappeared from his face.

  “Men who stay out of the spotlight do so for a reason,” he said in a deeper, more serious voice.

  “You have a tendency to talk in boring riddles.” She glared at him. “It’s annoying.”

  “Then let me try this—” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “Back off.”

  Not quite what she expected, but okay. “I’m the one with the bat.”

  “I’m not even going to comment on how little that matters to me.”

  She remembered his weight and height advantage and shot a quick glance in the couple’s direction nearby. Still there. That renewed her confidence a bit. “You’re at my house.”

  He lifted both hands. “I’m sitting in a car.”

  “Say that again and I’m slamming this bat against the hood of your car.”

  He dropped his hands and the heel of one hit the wheel with a thud. “That would not be wise.”

  She stopped just before delivering an eye roll. “Talk like a normal person.”

  “Don’t. Do. It.”

  Well, that was clearer. An edge moved into his voice. Turned out he was human after all. So was she. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

  The tone . . . something sounded different right then. She let the bat rest in her palm. “What?”

  He reached down and turned on the car. “We’ll see each other soon.�
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  She didn’t hate that idea. She hated that she didn’t hate it. “I’m thinking you’re not listening to me.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” He hit the gas but the car was in park, so the engine just revved.

  “Is that supposed to impress me?”

  “I’m listening to you. Following your instructions.” He leaned closer to her. “That is the impressive part here. You just don’t know it yet.”

  “I don’t get you.”

  “You will.” He motioned for her to back up and then he guided the car out of the space. Closed the window as he drove away.

  “You go, sweetie!”

  At the sound of the female voice, Emery tore her gaze away from the car’s taillights and glanced at the couple who had silently been watching over her. They were cheering her on. She raised the bat in salute. “Damn straight.”

  She was halfway across the street before she realized the car Wren’s man drove didn’t have a license plate. That had to be a bad sign.

  Wren drove around the corner and put the car in park. He waited, half expecting Emery to run after him swinging that bat. When she didn’t he was almost disappointed.

  The fact she’d spotted him at all was damned impressive. Sure, he hadn’t been hiding. If he had, she never would have seen him. He’d been doing the hide-in-plain-sight thing for so long that he’d gotten damned good at it. Most people didn’t take in the details. They went home after work, closed their doors and shut out everything on the other side of the door. She hadn’t, and that made his evening more interesting. Potentially problematic, but very interesting.

  He took out his cell and checked the tracer. The dot appeared a second later. The car he needed was only a few feet away. No one had come running to his rescue, which was exactly how he wanted it. He hired people who knew when to move in and when to hold back.

  He turned the car off and shut the door. The lock chirped as he hit the button on his key chain. His gaze stayed on her window as he ventured back onto her street and stopped at the first car. Opening the back door, he slipped inside.

  “You okay, sir?” the driver asked.

  Wren understood his employee’s concern, but appreciated his discretion even more. He’d refused to ask Garrett for mission details. Him knowing about the coffee stop was bad enough, so Wren relied on the case file for the surveillance details. That’s where he got the tracer number and knew the stakeout information. He did own the damn business after all.