Silver Shield Security Box Set

by Dee Bridgnorth

  The first place she checked was the coffee maker. She groaned when she saw she was out of coffee. She was not an extreme coffee drinker by any means, but she had some coffee mornings and this was one of them.

  She moved to the fridge and pulled open the door, then surveyed the empty interior.

  “I really need to make time to go shopping,” she muttered. She bent over and reached for the vegetable bowl hoping to find something she could eat in there. Even an apple would be welcome at that moment.

  She paused as a line of code suddenly ran through her head. She tried to figure out what it would look like if she put it down. It was in python, a programming language that was not exactly her favorite. She liked it for how flexible it could be, but there were others she was more at home with. She followed the logic of the code as several other lines ran through her head. She was used to it, and it was how she’d developed some of their new products. As soon as she found something to eat, she was going to capture them and see what they were about.

  **

  Rusty walked into the kitchen with an armload of groceries and froze. There, right in front of him was the most perfectly rounded ass he’d ever seen staring up at him. His breath caught as his groin instantly tightened at the sight. A pure shaft of passion flowed through his veins and he found himself clenching his teeth to gain control over his renegade libido.

  He must have made a sound because Hope looked up and saw him standing there. Her eyes filled with pleasure and for one brief instant, he thought the look was for him and his heart skipped a beat. Then he noticed that she was staring straight at the groceries in his arms. She got to her feet and took a few steps towards him, then stopped.

  “You went shopping,” she stated, lifting her eyes to meet his.

  “Yeah, and good morning to you too.” Rusty walked to the kitchen island and dumped the bags he had in his hands.

  Hope remained where she was standing. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He threw a glance at her over his shoulder, then turned back to the bags and began to pull the items out.

  “I need to eat,” he said simply. “You’re welcome to help yourself.”

  Still she hesitated.

  Rusty sighed impatiently. “If you’re hungry go ahead and eat, then you can assuage your pride by going shopping next time.”

  He could feel her hostility as she glared at him for all of ten seconds before her stomach let out a rumble. He turned to look at her with upraised brow.

  “Oh alright! I’m starving,” she muttered, walking towards where he was standing by the kitchen island.

  Rusty just shook his head. He understood about pride though. Especially from those who had fought hard for independence. She made short work of putting away the groceries and then got to work.

  “What are you making?” he asked.

  “A sandwich,” she said, reaching for a bread knife. “Are you cool with that?”

  “Yeah.”

  He watched in fascination as she lined up the ingredients. She worked quickly and efficiently, slicing up the bread, then lined up the ham and other ingredients that were going into the sandwich.

  “Can I help?”

  She handed him a bowl of fresh lettuce, which she’d just rinsed. “Shred these for me,” she instructed.

  Rusty was grateful to have something to do. It took his mind from the fact that he could see the gentle swell of her breast from the neckline of the sweater she wore. He licked his lips and forced his attention to the lettuce.

  What on earth was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly having feelings of lust for the woman beside him? It didn’t make sense, not just because she was not normally his type, but she barely noticed his existence.

  He pushed the bowl of lettuce towards her and without a word, she deftly added them before putting the layers of cheese.

  “You can do this on autopilot,” he observed.

  She glanced at him with a half-smile and shrugged. “It’s a staple.”

  “Why don’t you have food in your house?”

  She took a few steps away and reached up for the plates. He used the time to admire the generous proportions of her backside.

  “I don’t have time,” she answered, turning back to him.

  Rusty dropped his eyes to the sandwich. No use letting her know his eyes were fixed on her ass.

  “So how do you eat?”

  “Takeout.”

  She placed the sandwiches on the plates and pointed to them. Rusty picked up both plates and headed for the far end of the island where there were bar stools. He tried to imagine living on just takeout and could not.

  “Takeout?”

  “Yeah. Coffee?”

  She was standing by the coffee machine holding two mugs.

  “Sure.” He waited for her to fill up both cups. “How can you do that? It’s not healthy.”

  She glanced at him with a frown. “The coffee?”

  “No, takeout. It can’t be good for you.”

  She went still and sent a piercing glance his way. “Is this your way of telling me I’m fat?”

  Rusty wanted to swear. Her comment brought his attention back to her body and he found himself taking in her more-than-generous curves. He could bet his ass there was nothing fake about her. Not a single inch of her was plastic. The large swell of her breasts invited him to investigate and the tightness in his pants said he wanted to do that more than anything. He forced his eyes up to hers and found her looking pissed.

  “You have a body that was designed for pleasure,” he said at last.

  “Are you saying I’m a whore?” Her eyes were shooting fire now.

  Rusty closed his eyes and opened them again. “You’re going to take anything I say personal, aren’t you?”

  “Damn straight!”

  “Well, I think you’re sexy. Is that what you want to hear? You are so damn sexy.”

  Something flickered in her eyes and he could have sworn he saw a flash of uncertainty before she lowered her lashes.

  “Let’s eat,” she muttered.

  As she slid unto the seat next to his, her thigh brushed against him. Rusty sucked in a breath as he felt tiny flames of fire lick the spot where she’d brushed against his body. He stared at his food in confusion. What was happening to him?

  He took a bite out of his sandwich and sighed in pleasure. “Wow, this is so good. What did you put in here?” He turned to look at her in amazement.

  “Nothing special, just some Dijon mustard I found lurking around somewhere,” she said with a shrug.

  Whatever it was, it tasted divine. He took another bite from his sandwich and wanted to moan. For a moment, he actually thought he did until he realized that the sound had come from Hope. He turned to look at her and found her chewing with her eyes closed, a look of rapture on her face.

  “Oh god, I’m ravenous and this tastes so good,” she said on another moan.

  Rusty was arrested by the sight. A tiny dab of mustard lingered on her lower lip and he felt a powerful urge to lick it off. He caught himself on time. Her tongue darted out and swept over the mustard. Rusty made a choking sound. Her eyes flew open.

  She gave him a level stare. “You have a problem with the way I eat?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then why were you giving me that weird look?”

  “I was not.”

  She pursed her lips. “Look, I like my food, okay? There’s a lot of me and it needs nourishment so don’t expect me to pick at my food like those skinny model types.”

  Rusty cocked his head to the side and considered her. She sure was prickly about her size, and though he typically would go for a woman several sizes smaller than she was, there was nothing wrong with Hope. If he was to haphazard a guess, he would say she was probably a size twelve, maybe one-thirty, one-thirty-two pounds or so. She had absolutely no need to be so defensive.

  “You’re sizing me up, aren’t you?” she asked suspiciously.

  He took the last bite fr
om his sandwich and reached for a second one. “If you would like to take a late morning run, I would be glad to go with you,” he finally said.

  He watched as twin flames of outrage sprang up in her eyes.

  “I don’t need a freakin’ image consultant. I hired you to keep my ass safe, not to tell me how much smaller it should be.”

  Rusty was pissed now. He chewed slowly and deliberately, no longer tasting the food.

  “I suggested a run because you seem to have woken up on edge and a run will take the edge off your mood. But forget I said anything.” He went back to his food, struggling to keep his annoyance in check.

  They were silent for several moments, and then Hope sighed.

  “I’m being an ass and I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I’ve got a lot of shit going on, but I don’t have to take it out on you.”

  He looked at her and could not keep the admiration out of his gaze. Hope was fiercely independent, stubborn and proud, and the last thing he’d expected from her was an apology and such a sincere one at that.

  “It’s fine.”

  She shook her head. “No, it isn’t.” She placed a hand on his arm where it lay on the island and Rusty felt the lick of flame again. “I think I will take you up on the run. I haven’t had one in ages and it might clear my head.”

  He nodded and felt a smile tug at his lips. “Sure thing.”

  She returned his smile, her eye flashing with mischief, inviting him to share in a secret known to only them both. Rusty knew he was in deep trouble. There was much more to Hope Conran than met the eye and the more he discovered, the more fascinated he became.

  Just then his phone rang. He picked it up and glanced at the caller ID. It was an unregistered number, but the area code said Chicago. He hesitated a beat then put the phone back down without answering.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

  Chapter Nine

  Hope sipped from her coffee mug and glanced at the man seated beside her. His jaw was clenched and she could feel the tension radiating off him. Something had upset him, and she could bet that it had something to do with that phone call he did not answer.

  The phone had stopped ringing now and it left an uncomfortable silence in its place. She did not want to interfere in his personal life; he was here to do a job after all and would soon be out of her life. Still, she felt compelled to say something.

  “Ignoring stuff doesn’t make it go away, you know,” she said gently. She should know.

  She took another sip before placing the mug on the countertop. She glanced at the black brew she preferred. There were so many things she wished she could ignore, like the visit that was just around the corner, but her issues with her mother were not going anywhere, no matter how hard she wished them away.

  She could feel his heated stare, though he remained silent.

  “It’s always better to deal with stuff head on or they never go away. Until you deal with them, it’s like they’re on repeat, sort of like a really bad daytime soap opera.”

  Okay, so maybe she had said a little too much. Hope bit her lip nervously. If there was anything she hated, it was second-guessing herself. She’d spent too many years of her life doing that. She knew she’d done the right thing, but when he still didn’t say a word, she began to feel nervous. She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. He sat staring at his coffee. He reached for the rest of his sandwich, bit into it and began to chew mechanically.

  The phone rang again.

  They both stared at it for a few seconds then Rusty reached for it.

  “Hello?” There was a brief pause then, “No, I do not want to meet with you. I am not interested in hearing why you left…Please don’t call my number again.”

  He ended the call and dropped the phone back on the counter.

  Hope could feel the black clouds swirling around him. They were even thicker than the one that had tried to envelope her earlier that morning. It was a familiar cloud. One that could only be summoned by family. She had enough family drama in her life—she really did not want to get caught up in another person’s drama. She was just going to get up, clean up the dishes and go back to her room, before things became messy.

  She opened her mouth to make some inane comment, instead what came out was, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Damn. Why had she said that? She did not really want to hear all about his problems, did she? Strangely, for some reason she could not explain, she really did want to hear them. Shit.

  Rusty turned to face her, she could see in his eyes that he was not going to share, and that was okay. It really was. She was not disappointed or anything.

  So when he said, “That was my mother,” she had to work hard to keep the surprise she felt from showing.

  “Your mother?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed and shook his head. “She left many years ago, when I was just a kid. Then she showed up a few months ago, wanting to play happy family.”

  She heard the bitterness in his voice and felt bad for him. She could almost hear Dr. Parker’s voice:

  Bitterness is one of the greatest growth inhibitors.

  She knew firsthand what bitterness could do to a person. It sucked your soul dry and left you hating yourself eventually. She wished she could tell him that. But she didn’t know what to do to get rid of the lingering bitterness she felt inside her and if there was one thing she was not, it was a hypocrite.

  “Has she told you what happened?”

  “I’m not interested in what she has to say.”

  Hope couldn’t understand it. She’d been begging her mom to tell her why she’d done what she did and would have given anything to understand what had driven her to such a state.

  “Why?”

  She was being intrusive, she knew, and she expected him to shoot her down at any moment. It’s what she would have done so she was prepared.

  “She left me with that psychopath that was my father. She must have known what he was, but still she left me alone. I’m really not interested in what excuse she has to give.”

  Hope nodded thoughtfully. She could see his point. Still…

  “My mother shot my dad when I was five. It was not in the heat of passion. He came home one day and she was waiting for him. She had already packed up all my stuff and shit. I have no idea why she did it. She won’t tell me.”

  Rusty was staring at her thoughtfully. She did not detect any pity in his glance and that made her relax. She had no idea why she’d shared that with him, but she’d felt this need to communicate something.

  “Your mother is still alive?”

  She heard the surprise in his voice and shrugged. “Yeah. She was transferred to a correctional facility not too far from here.” After she’d petitioned several times.

  “And you have a relationship with her?” He sounded incredulous.

  Hope held his gaze. She needed him to understand what she had to say. “Not at first. I was so bitter against her. In my mind, she was the reason I’d been through hell in different foster homes. Actually, I still think so to some extent.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Talking about this was hard. “But I needed to move on with my life and to do that, I had to let go. That meant reaching out to her. Sadly, she still won’t tell me why she murdered my father.”

  “Doesn’t that drive you insane?” he wanted to know.

  “Constantly. But that is beyond my control. I try to focus my energy on things I can control.”

  He did not say anything again afterwards and went back to contemplating his coffee. But as Hope cleared the dishes, she hoped that her words had sunk in, somehow.

  “So you think I should speak to her?”

  She looked over her shoulders at him. “I can’t tell you what to do, Rusty.”

  “I’ll do the dishes.” Rusty was suddenly beside her at the sink, his shirt sleeves rolled up.

  “No, I can manage, thanks.”

  He did not budge. “You got breakfast, the least I
can do is wash up.”

  “But you got the groceries,” she pointed out.

  He gave her a pointed stare. “Are we going to stand here debating this all morning?”

  Hope thought about it. There were only a couple of dishes, certainly nothing worth arguing about. But she liked to have her way too much and did not want to give in. Yeah, it was immature, she knew, but she didn’t care.

  “Fine,” she said in a less than gracious tone.

  Rusty rolled his eyes and muttered something about damn stubborn females, which Hope chose to ignore.

  As he cleared the dishes, Hope went around putting things away and wiping down the counter. When the kitchen was once again spotless, she stood back in satisfaction. Order. She really liked a chaos-free environment, at least in her home.

  “There was no excuse for what she did,” Rusty said, standing with his back to the sink.

  “Probably,” she said with a shrug.

  “Probably? How do you justify walking out on your son?” he asked harshly.

  She saw the pain etched on his face and wanted to go to him and soothe him. The feeling was unexpected and she tucked her hands beneath her arms in a bid to curb the feeling.

  “If you decide to talk to her, you need to prepare yourself for the fact that you may never understand why she did what she did.” She felt the need to warn him.

  He looked at her with eyes that saw more than she wanted them to see. “Your mom?”

  Hope nodded.

  Why would a woman who previously had no history of violence suddenly pick up a gun and shoot her husband dead? It made no sense to her. She had run it over and over in her head, time and time again and had come to the conclusion that her mother had discovered something about her father that had driven her over the edge. But what could it be?

  To date, she had no idea. Her mother was happy to talk about anything else, but when it came to that subject, she clammed up. Hope had learned to avoid the topic altogether. But there were times when she felt as though her head was about to burst. The frustration got almost too much to bear.

  “Have you found any clues about the hacker?”

  Her head snapped up at the sudden change in subject. She recognized what he was doing. Somehow, he had let down his guard and shared something with her, but that momentary flash of weakness was over. Their eyes met and held, she nodded lightly, letting him know that she understood and accepted his decision. She was not going to pursue it. She saw the relief in his eyes.