Absolute Trust (Absolute Power Duet Book 2)

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Hold up. He bought you a car? That car?” Tony lets out a low whistle. “Damn, girl. I saw one of those go for over a hundred and fifty grand at an auction on TV. Sounds like he’s your boyfriend to me, too.”

  “Well, he’s not.” In need of a moment to regain my composure, I turn my back to pour a cup of coffee. The car has been the least of my worries, but Tony’s remark brings the error in my thinking to light. People are going to have questions about a common gemologist owning an expensive classic car. If I’m going to keep it, I need to come up with a plausible explanation.

  Tony shrugs. “He must really like you. Who is this guy? Do I know him? If he’s buying cars for women who aren’t his girlfriend, he must be a high roller.”

  “Um, he’s not from around here.” I scowl at Em when Tony’s gaze drops to his plate. She rolls her eyes, mirroring my attitude. “He’s hiring me to do some work for him. It was a sign-on bonus.” Not exactly a lie, but not the truth, either. “I’m not going to keep it.”

  “Really? Damn.” Tony straightens on the stool. “Maybe I need to change careers.” The buzz of his phone saves me from more interrogation. He glances at the screen and frowns. “Ah, it’s work. Gotta take this. Excuse me, ladies.” Em and I are silent as he leaves the room to answer the call. Her gaze follows him out of the room. A cloud of unhappiness darkens her face for a fraction of a second. It’s gone so quickly, I’m sure I must have imagined it.

  The minute he’s out of earshot, I slam my coffee cup to the table. The brown liquid sloshes onto the wood. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “Why don’t you just tell him everything?”

  “I’m sorry. I panicked.” Her face scrunches. “You know I’m not good with secrets.”

  “This is not good, Em. You can’t tell Tony anything about Cash. At least not yet.”

  “You know how I hate lying. It’s just—I really like him, Jag. He’ll be devastated if he learns what we’ve done.”

  My outrage evaporates. Her genuine distress hurts my heart. I pull her into a hug. “I’m sorry.” I seem to be apologizing a lot lately. “None of this is your fault. It’s mine. I should never have let you get involved. I’ll get us out of this. I promise.” My words ring hollow. I have no control over the situation. Cash holds all the power.

  Tony returns, ending our conversation. He shoves his phone in his back pocket. “Sorry about that. I’ve got to run. Duty calls.”

  “I hope it’s not anything serious.” Em stands, preparing to take the dishes to the sink. “I worry about you.”

  “Nah. It’s no big deal. The feds are here, investigating some guy out of Chicago. They just want to go over a few things.” He shovels the last piece of food into his mouth, hums in approval, and winks at me. “I hope it’s not your guy, Jagger. That would be awkward.” He chuckles. Emeline goes pale like she’s going to throw up. I force a laugh. The sound is too high and stilted to fool anyone. Tony, however, seems oblivious to our reactions. He grabs his car keys from the counter, gives Em a quick peck on the lips, and heads toward the back door. “I’ll call you later, babe. Bye, Jagger.”

  The minute, he’s gone, I text Cash. We need to talk. No response. Not that day, nor the next. After work on Monday, I drive by the runaway shelter, but he’s not there. No one has seen him. Tuesday drags by. Nothing. On Wednesday, as a last-ditch effort, I drive to his house. He can’t avoid me. Not when he’s thrown me into an ocean of trouble without a life jacket.

  Four

  Cash

  The last person I expect to see at the gate to my house on a weeknight is Jagger. But she’s there. Looking like a sweet temptress in the red convertible, long hair flowing in waves over her shoulders, and a scowl on her face. The surveillance camera doesn’t do her beauty justice; however, the sight of her is enough to make my dick hard. I press the speaker button. “Yeah?”

  “We need to talk.” She drums her fingertips on the steering wheel. So impatient, my little girl.

  “Do you have an appointment?” I can’t help fucking with her. Nothing gives me more pleasure than stirring her temper—except maybe her face when she comes.

  “Cut the crap, Cash. Let me in.” Her mouth turns downward in a scowl.

  I press a second button and watch the video as she passes through the iron gate, drives to the front of the house, and heads toward the front door. She doesn’t knock, but enters the house like a boss bitch. I approve.

  “Where are you?” Her irritated question echoes through the foyer.

  “Down here,” I reply from the sofa in the living room. Gage and a dozen of my guys are scattered throughout the space, drinking beer, playing video games on the flat screen, and discussing Gage’s new Harley Davidson. Jagger blinks at the motorcycle parked in the center of the living room, recovers, and moves forward.

  The room falls silent as she descends the steps to the lower level. I swallow past the lump in my throat. My baby girl is so fine. Her hair cascades down her back in loose waves. She’s wearing sky high heels, a short white dress that clings to her tiny waist and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Nothing. Gage coughs. Frog lets out a low whistle, and Tripp’s mouth hangs open like a caveman. Although their appreciation for my girl stirs my pride, I don’t care to share her with anyone.

  My girl. I don’t know when she made the switch from adversary to mine. The change occurred so gradually, I didn’t realize it had happened. Nonetheless, it’s done. There’s no coming back from the way I feel. Once I’ve made up my mind, I seldom change it. I want her, and I’ll stop at nothing to get her. The harder she fights, the greater my desire.

  “This is an unexpected pleasure. And here I thought it was going to be another boring Wednesday night.” I love the way her dark eyes narrow at my flippant statement.

  “I’ve been calling and texting you for days.” She doesn’t break her stare, not for a minute. The intensity behind her long eyelashes stirs my dick to life.

  “Yeah? Things have been hectic. My bad.” I stretch both arms along the back of the sofa. “What’s up?”

  “I brought your car back.” She tosses the keys at my head. I catch them in mid-air. “I don’t want it.”

  “It was a gift, darlin’. Don’t you know it’s rude to return a present?”

  “Aw, are your feelings hurt?” In a pretend pout, she pushes out her lower lip—a lip so luscious, it begs to be sucked and bitten. “I had no idea you were so sensitive.”

  “Oh, I am. For sure.” I throw the keys back at her. She sidesteps and lets them fall on the floor. God, she’s such a handful. I love her rebellious nature. “It’s done. The car is yours. End of story.” My pulse speeds up. Nothing heats my blood like a challenge. This is one contest I intend to win. “Is that all? My boys and I are busy.”

  “No. That’s not all. Something happened. Something serious. We need to talk.” Her disapproving glare skates over my men. “A little privacy would be nice.”

  “We could take it to the bedroom, if that’s what you want.” My cock twitches at the thought of her naked and willing beneath me.

  “I have a busy schedule and not a lot of patience. Get your men out.”

  Gage’s eyebrows rise at the authority in her tone. With one hand on her hip, she stares at the guys. They look to me. I nod. One by one, they stand and filter out of the room. I’m so proud of her, I could bust. A few months ago, she would’ve been at my mercy. Not tonight. Tonight, she’s claiming her power, and she wears it as well as that dress.

  “All right. Room’s empty. Now, why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it.” I pat the cushion at my side.

  She ignores the offer and sits in the chair across from me, tempting my self-control with a flash of thigh as she crosses one knee over the other. Her dark hair contrasts with the white upholstery. “Two FBI agents came to my house. They asked a lot of questions about you. They implicated me in Hubert Spillman’s death. One of them was at the hotel bar in Vegas.”

  “Th
e feds have been on my back for years. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little heat.”

  “Duh—of course I am. I have a legitimate business to run. You might not care what people say, but I do.” She lifts her chin. “I need to know what you’re gonna do about it.”

  “Nothing. Not my problem. You handle it.” I throw control back to her and wait to see how she deals with the pressure. “If you wanna be the boss, you gotta sharpen your problem solving skills.”

  “The way I see it, this is your problem. They wouldn’t be on my doorstep if it wasn’t for you.” The calmness on her face is belied by the tap of her little finger on the chair arm. “I’m happy to solve the problems I created, but I won’t be responsible for cleaning up your messes.”

  “Fair point. I’ll look into it.” My grin widens. As usual, she cuts to the heart of the problem and doesn’t take my shit. “What else can I do for you, partner?” No matter how hard I try, I can’t tear my gaze from her mouth. The memory of those ruby red lips wrapped around my shaft haunts me every night.

  “I’m not your partner.”

  “There you go again, breaking my heart.” I press a hand to my chest, feigning pain. “And I was hoping to up our relationship to the next level.”

  “That would be impossible. You have to have a heart before it can be broken.” The roll of her dark eyes inspires a dozen dirty fantasies inside my head. I love her fire, her rebellion, her absolute refusal to bow to my whims.

  “Come on.” I stand and hold out a hand. “I’ll take you home.”

  Her eyebrows lift. “Really? That’s it? No arguments? No blackmail?”

  “Yep. If you’re not into it, I totally understand. I thought you had what it takes to make it in this business, but I can see I was wrong. No hard feelings.” A furrow of displeasure mars her smooth forehead. My girl has a competitive streak. We have that in common. She likes to win, and I like watching her inner turmoil. Deep down, she wants this as much as I do. I jerk my head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Five

  Jagger

  In the foyer, Cash hesitates. “Hold up a sec.” He disappears down the hall and returns with a duffel bag. He drops it on the floor between us. “There’s two hundred and fifty grand in there. It’s yours.”

  “What?” I stare at the gray canvas bag.

  “It’s the money you paid me.”

  I blink up at him, confused by the shift in his demeanor. He draws his lower lip between his teeth as he waits for my reaction. A shaft of evening light cuts through the leaded glass panes of the front door, transforming his brown irises to the rich gold color of expensive whiskey. “You’re giving it back? Just like that?”

  “You might be surprised to know that I’ve got a conscience.” There’s something different about the line of his shoulders, something less intimidating. He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “I fucked up.”

  I crouch beside the bag, retract the zipper, and stare at the stacks of crisp bills. “You put me through hell for nothing?” I don’t know if I’m angry or relieved. Relief wins the contest. I’ll be able to repay the mortgage loan and have a little left to bolster my empty bank account.

  “No, I put you through hell because your sister stole from me, and then you stole from me. I had a right to be pissed off. But, after some thought, I’ve decided to forgive you. We can’t have the past hanging over our new partnership.” He extends a hand. “Look what you accomplished. Aside from a few hiccups, you met every challenge. Not many men have had the balls to face me the way you did. You’ve been a kick-ass adversary.” I accept his offering, slide my palm across his, enjoying the rough texture of his skin against my smoothness. His fingers thread through mine, and his voice becomes tender. “I think you have a promising career in front of you.”

  “Thanks.” My throat tightens at his surprising confession. Few people have ever expressed conviction in my abilities. I’ve always been in the shadow of Callie’s outrageous adventures. A kernel of self-confidence begins to replace my uncertainty. Genuine warmth shines in his eyes.

  “Let’s get you home.” With the duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, he continues to hold my hand on the opposite side and doesn’t let go until we reach the car. He opens the passenger door of the convertible for me then drops the duffel into the trunk.

  I’m too stunned for conversation. Who is this guy? Through the veil of my lashes, I study him. His long fingers wrap around the steering wheel. The elbow of his opposite arm rests on the window sill. Hot summer wind ruffles his hair. With black sunglasses resting on the bridge of his straight nose and the ink of his tattoos visible on his arms and neck, he’s one delectable mother fucker. For the first time since our acquaintance, I see a different side to him—one that’s personable and considerate and attainable. A side that makes my tummy flutter in the best possible way.

  Instead of taking the exit toward Baxter’s Corner, Cash veers off the interstate toward the business section of Carmel. I grab his arm. “Wait. This isn’t the way to my house.”

  “Yeah, about that—I just need to make a quick stop first.” His shrewd, sideways glance at my bare legs sends a spasm of need into my core. How does he manage to be sexy and intimidating at the same time? I resist the urge to tug down the hem of my dress and let it ride higher on my thighs. Deep down, I like knowing he finds me attractive. I crave the adrenalin rush of being scared and horny at the same time—a thrill only Cash can provide.

  We turn off Main Street. Leafy elms spread their branches over the manicured lawns and sidewalks. He parks the car behind a mid-century residential home off Main Street and comes around the front of the Jag to open my door. We enter through the back of the building. Cash taps a security code into the alarm system then flips on the lights.

  “What’s this?” I suck in an awed breath. “Why haven’t I heard of it?”

  Nothing about the exterior provides clues to the treasure trove inside. There are no signs or logos or indications of a business. The interior is open and clean with white walls, restored pine floors, and exposed overhead beams. Elegant antique furnishings are upholstered in sumptuous purple velvet. Along the walls and in the center of each room are glass display cases filled with jewelry. Expensive, unique, to-die-for jewelry.

  “Welcome to Dark Desires. My very exclusive, very secret showcase of the world’s most expensive jewels. The clients come strictly from referrals. This is the place where world leaders bring their mistresses, and the mega wealthy can shop in complete anonymity. Visits are by appointment only.” The quiet smoothness of his voice holds a seductive quality—or maybe, it’s the sight of so many priceless jewels that dampens my panties. “No website. No ads. No receipts. Cash only. The money goes into a vault in the basement. Once a month, Gage transfers it out to be laundered.”

  “Nice.” I pause to examine a diamond tennis bracelet on its bed of black velvet. Then a darker, more sinister thought takes precedence over my excitement. A place like this invites danger. “And all this is yours?”

  “I own it—or one of my shell companies does.” He folds his arms over his chest, leans back against the door casing, and watches as I flit from one display to the next. The pieces are stunning. High quality. Exquisite. More than likely, they’re also stolen.

  “Where do you get this stuff?” My fingers curl with the need to examine each stone more closely. If only I’d brought along my loupe.

  He shrugs. “Here. There. You know.” The spark in his eyes suggests he’s aware of my warring emotions. “I’ve got too much on my plate right now. I’ve got one of my soldiers taking appointments, but she’s not really suited for the job. I was hoping you’d take it over.”

  “Seriously?” Running a place like this is beyond my wildest dreams. The danger, the clientele, the jewels—they beckon to my darkest desires.

  “Yeah, but you’re not interested, so—” He jerks his chin toward the exit. “It’s getting late. I should probably get you home.”

  “Wai
t.” A blue diamond pendant catches my eye. It rests in a clear glass box beneath a spotlight, illuminated like a museum piece. I’ve never seen a stone with so many flawless facets. “Can I look at this one?”

  He glances at his watch. “Sure. You’re the one with the busy schedule.” Despite his reluctant words, triumph glitters in his eyes. I’m too swept up in the stones to care about the way he manipulates me. I’ve come to expect it. Using the keys in his pocket, he unlocks the case, removes the pendant, and drapes it around my neck. The tips of his fingers sweep over my nape as he brushes my hair aside and fastens the clasp. He tugs down the shoulder of my dress to press a kiss on the revealed skin. I let him because I’m too enamored with the priceless piece to protest.

  “It’s beautiful.” The pitch of my voice is higher than normal. Together, we stare at my reflection in the oval mirror on the counter, his face hovering next to mine over my shoulder. His chest presses against my back. We look good together—me, Cash, and the blue diamond. I drag my fingertips over the cold stone.

  “What else do you like?” His hot breath sears the outer shell of my ear.

  “This one.” I point toward a princess cut diamond ring with a platinum band and a surround of tiny sapphires.

  He removes the ring from its resting place. I hold out my hand, but he stops a few inches short of my reach. Challenge illuminates his chiseled features. “Before I give this to you, you’re gonna need to take something off. You know. Balance.”

  My heart skips a beat. Nothing turns me on like expensive jewelry—nothing but Cash. The combination of both is more than I can withstand. The prudent choice would be to leave, but the shimmer of ice around my neck and the heat in his gaze unleash a primal need. After his return of the money, I’m feeling more drawn to him than ever. The unexpected glimpse into his softer side works as an aphrodisiac. We lock gazes. I begin to step out of my high heels. He shakes his head. “Not those. Those can stay.” The tip of his tongue sweeps over his lower lip. “How about your panties?”