Damage Control

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Fuck,” I whisper, deciding right now that this will be the last day I don’t see a long row of her clothes in my closet. Interestingly enough, that idea is a good one: her clothes, next to mine. Her clothes in our closet. She is my woman now, and I have to protect her, something I have yet to ensure. The warmth I feel at her presence in my life becomes concern over her safety I need to be addressing now, not later.

  Spurred into action with this thought, I dress in a gray pinstriped suit and a pale gray silk tie, and I open the door, light flooding my eyes. Emily is sitting on the bed, the blanket tucked under her arms, with her phone in her hand. “Did you hear from your brother?”

  She sets the phone on the bed and twists around to look at me. “No call, but I was afraid maybe I missed one while sleeping.” Her gaze sweeps over me, her eyes warm when they find mine, her hair adorable, all over the place. “I could really get used to waking up to you looking like that every day, Shane Brandon.”

  “And I could get used to waking up to you naked under the blankets,” I say, my cock thickening with the knowledge that she’s exactly that way now. “Which,” I add, “means we may be late to work more often than not. And since this can’t be one of those days, I’m going downstairs before I forget why.” Her stomach gives a loud growl and I laugh. “Sounds like I need to feed you anyway.”

  “My stomach has told on me. I’m starving. How did we not eat last night?”

  “We were hungry for other things,” I remind her, thinking of the things I did to her before I let her sleep, and want to do to her now. “I’d better go take care of the business I got up to attend before I make you breakfast.” I stand and start for the door, about to exit when I hear, “Shane.”

  I pause at the doorway and turn to look at her. “What am I going to say to your father?”

  “You don’t have to say anything. You can quit.”

  “What am I going to say to your father?” she repeats, clearly dismissing that idea.

  “We’ll talk about it when we’re eating.”

  “Any word from Seth?”

  “Not yet, but we’ll know something today.”

  “I need a drink, but since I can’t handle my booze, and it’s far too early, can you make sure breakfast includes chocolate?”

  “Chocolate,” I confirm. “You got it.”

  Turning away, I head down the stairs, hating that I have to subject her to my father’s games, when I really want to pull her out of Brandon Enterprises, which simply isn’t happening right now. Aside from the fact that it won’t protect her from my family as long as she’s in my life, she’s made it clear she’ll fight me to stay, and at least I’ll know she’s in sight and safe. Or safer. And I admit to myself that I want her close. Selfishly, that light in the midst of a whole hell of a lot of darkness has been like a lifejacket I need more than I want to be true. But would I have taken our relationship up a notch this fast had Seth not made his discovery?

  Reaching the kitchen, I flip on the light, making my way to the coffeemaker to get a cup brewing. It’s then, staring at the drip, that I answer the question with a resounding no. I would not have, but not because I didn’t want her here like every woman before her. It was about being sure I could keep her safe, so it’s pretty fucking ironic that she’s here now because her family might be just as dangerous as mine.

  I grab my cup of coffee, sweeten it, and set it on the island counter. I drag a barstool up to the counter and sit down, opening my laptop, to quickly order breakfast. That done, I have three things I want to Google: the Geminis (though I won’t, out of caution), the Martina family, and superstar pitcher Brody Matthews. I start with Adrian Martina, the man behind what might be Brody’s demise, and mine too, for that matter, if I don’t shut him out of Brandon Enterprises.

  Twenty minutes later, I have a selection of pastries and egg-filled croissants waiting on Emily, and I’m not pleased with what I learned about Adrian. He’s not the typical gangbanger stereotype you think of in jeans and bandana, with a gun in his back pocket and an impetuous spirit and trigger finger. He went to school in the States. Graduated from Brown University with honors. Dresses better than most of the people in my offices, and has legitimate investments here. And yet, he is regarded as the heir to the Martina cartel, and right arm to his father, the acting kingpin. He’s also thought to have killed at least a dozen people with his own hands. And my brother is fucking his sister.

  Scrubbing my freshly shaved jaw, I make another cup of coffee, pull another barstool into the kitchen for Emily, and then reclaim mine. Now it’s time to shift gears to Brody Matthews, and a search brings up several articles that confirm he punched a fan and then disappeared, both things that simply don’t compute with the man I’ve met. I dial Jessica, and she answers without a hello, getting straight to the point. “Oh King. Oh Master, my boss and leader. Why have you called me so early in the morning?” She firms her voice. “Seriously. Since you haven’t called me to bring you breakfast the entire year I’ve worked for you, what’s wrong?”

  “I need you to get Brody Matthews’s people on the phone and get me a meeting. Tell them we want to offer him a seven-figure sponsorship for a new yet-to-be-made-public product line.”

  “I’d be excited about meeting sir hotness himself, but are you aware that he punched a fan and is now MIA? Not exactly a good image for whatever project you haven’t told me about.”

  “I have no intention of signing the man. I just need to talk to him. Make it sound as lucrative as needs be, to get him out of whatever hole he’s in.”

  “Oh,” she says. “Then this is trouble.”

  “I’m really sick of that damn word, but yes. It is.”

  “This has to do with Derek in some way, doesn’t it?”

  “Don’t all things have to do with Derek?”

  “I’m dialing now. I might be a little late to the office or might not. I reserve that privilege, just in case I need it. I’m going to field the calls before I finish getting ready.”

  “Understood.”

  We end the call and I look up to find Emily standing in the archway beside the bar, watching me, dressed in an emerald-green blouse and a simple black skirt, her dark hair a silky veil over her shoulders. She is stunning. “Everything okay?” she asks, walking toward me and rounding the counter to stand beside me.

  I turn the barstool and walk her into me. “Nothing from Seth yet,” I say, “but he and his men had to sleep.” I lift my coffee in offering, her floral scent teasing my nostrils, and I decide I could wake up to that smell every day pretty damn easily.

  She settles on the barstool beside me. “I wish I could think no news is good news,” she says, “but no news is all I’ve had from my brother. And no news is what took me to my stepfather that night he died.”

  “Seth will have news,” I promise. “And he’ll have it today.”

  “I want answers and they make me nervous at the same time.”

  I offer her my coffee and she accepts it, taking a sip, her lips touching where my lips just were, our eyes locking and holding, a new intimacy between us, an understanding that we are more than we were even yesterday.

  I cover her hand where it holds the cup and take a drink, the air crackling around us, and she actually sucks in a tiny breath. My lips quirk and I set the mug down on the table. “Hungry?”

  “Is that even a question?”

  I laugh and motion to the room service plates. “I meant food. For now.”

  “I know I was starving, but I don’t think I can eat, after all.”

  “You have to eat,” I say, removing the lids to the food.

  Her eyes go wide at the sight of the pastries and she sighs. “Okay. I can eat.” She grabs a small plate and I do the same.

  We split a croissant, this idea of sharing my life with someone alien, but somehow with Emily it’s right. “That paper my father gave me last night was the deed to the apartment.”

  “You got him to sell you the apartment?”

/>   “No. I told him he was giving it to me.”

  She gapes. “And he did it?”

  “It’s all about knowing how to play his game.”

  “Does that mean you want to stay? Or use it for an investment property?”

  “Stay. It’s safe here. I know everyone. You’ll be safe here.”

  “Don’t stay because of me.”

  “We’re staying because it’s smart, but later, if you want to move, we can.”

  “Shane,” she says, her voice cracking. “Don’t make decisions for me when I could end up behind bars.”

  “Sweetheart, you have me for an attorney and you were afraid for your life. You aren’t going to jail.”

  The doorbell rings and I push off the counter. “Seth and Jessica are the only two people who can get up here without notice. I’m betting on Seth.”

  “Oh God. What if it’s bad news?”

  I cup her face and kiss her. “Deep breath. There is nothing I can’t fix here.”

  “Except the Geminis trying to kill us both.”

  The bell rings again, and I run my finger over her lips. “Stop looking for the apocalypse.” I kiss her again and head for the door, but I silently relive my concerns over the Geminis threat, hoping for some kind of good news on that front.

  I open the door and find Seth standing there, his black suit and tie and neatly trimmed blond hair as perfect as it always is, but his eyes are bloodshot. “I’d say good morning,” I greet him, “but you look like shit. You need to sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep when I know where we stand. I need to have Emily look at a couple of photos for me.”

  “Is there anything you’re about to say that will scare the shit out of her?”

  “If the absence of answers scares her, then yes.”

  I step back and silently invite him inside, already heading back to the kitchen. The door shuts behind me and I continue on to find Emily cleaning up our breakfast. I can see her hands trembling. And the only time she should tremble is from pleasure. I close the space between us as she sets our plates in the sink. I step to her side, aware of Seth joining us, and softly say, “He just wants you to look at some photos.”

  “No news?” she asks, and turns to face Seth. “Nothing on my brother?”

  He steps to the opposite side of the island and Emily does the same, while I move to the end, to have both of them in my sights.

  “What I can tell you right now,” Seth replies, “is that there is no police report, missing person’s report, or notable activity of either brother or stepfather with law enforcement. It does appear your stepfather left the country, which he did frequently, so this fits his profile.”

  “Only this time he’s dead.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Quite sure,” she assures me. “But where is the body? How did he hide it? I will always have this hanging over my head, afraid it will come back to me.” She looks at me. “You will always have it hanging over your head, which is why I tried to leave.”

  “We’ll find a way to pull you out of this,” I assure her. “But if you’re in it, we’re in it.”

  “On the bright side,” Seth adds, “your brother’s done a much better job of covering up your stepfather’s death than he did creating your documentation. And since the house was paid off last month, there is nothing like a lapsed mortgage payment to be a red flag to anyone. I also found the record of a lawn service that maintains the yard, leaving no fear the outside of the house will be unkempt, but—that was set up for years.”

  “I can’t believe you even thought of that.”

  “I told you,” I say. “Seth knows how to protect you.”

  She glances at Seth. “Do you trust me now?”

  “Considering everything you told me checks out, I’m leaning toward yes. Right now, what I’m focused on is finding out how deep into the Geminis your brother and stepfather are.”

  “Was, for my stepfather,” she amends. “He’s dead. Anything you might be thinking differently is just not true. I saw the blood.”

  “Easy, sweetheart,” I say, catching her gaze with mine. “We aren’t suggesting he’s alive, though it would be a good thing if he is.”

  “I know,” she whispers. “But he’s not.”

  “I need you to look at some photos for me,” Seth says, sliding a folder in front of Emily. “They have the names on the back. Tell me if the face or name rings a bell.”

  She inhales and flips the folder open, setting one photo, and then another, to the side. “This man,” she says, indicating a photo of a beefed-up military-looking man in his forties. “That’s RJ. The name says Ryker Jones, but I know him as RJ. He visited the house once and I heard my brother and stepfather talk about him often. He’s their boss. The other one that’s labeled ‘John Scott,’ I know the name but not the face, and honestly, I don’t even know why I know the name. Who are they?”

  “John Scott is the founder of the Geminis,” Seth informs us, “but anyone involved with the Geminis would say his name at some point, which makes me less concerned with him. Now, RJ is another story. We know he’s close to Scott, and high up in the chain of command, as well as being an ex–Special Forces soldier in a top secret elite unit, where something went wrong. He did not leave the military on good terms. He’s one of the best hackers on the planet.”

  “Out-of-character exaggeration?” Shane asks. “Or fact?”

  “Fact,” Seth states, moving on. “Another interesting detail. Neither Emily’s stepfather Cooper Wright, or her brother Rick, are in any CIA or FBI records as persons of interest in connection to the Geminis, but then most of their operational staff are what we call ghost handlers.”

  “In other words,” Emily says, “RJ’s involvement is bad.”

  “Any Gemini involvement isn’t good,” Seth says, “but for all we know, your brother is still on good terms with them. I actually think you disappearing makes him, and you, look guilty of something, rather than the opposite.”

  “I thought the same,” Shane adds. “He could have panicked, be it out of fear for his sister, or fear of the police.”

  “Wait. I look guilty? Is he still there? Does it look like I did something and ran?”

  “I haven’t located him,” Seth says, “so I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion. And you took a leave from school, but have you paid your rent?”

  “My brother said he’d do that for me,” she says. “But he also said he’d send me money.” She presses her hand to her stomach. “I am not liking the gut feeling I’m getting.”

  I step to her side and wrap my arm around her waist. “Easy, sweetheart. Seth and I will get your rent and bills handled.”

  “Can’t I just pay them out of my own account, if I haven’t been evicted already? I mean it was just me taking money from here or taking a lump sum that’s an issue right?”

  “I need more time to develop a plan,” Seth says, “but by this evening we’ll have the holes in your background covered and we’ll be able to decide how to proceed safely.” He glances at his watch. “I have a meeting with Nick.” He glances at me. “Right after I extend that offer we discussed last night,” he says, obviously meaning paying off our pro ballplayer’s wife. “If you still want to take that route?”

  “I want you to drive right into it as cheaply as possible,” I say, “and make it count.”

  “I always do,” Seth assures me, while Emily interjects with, “Who’s Nick?” thankfully leaving our insider conversation to stay inside.

  “He’s ex-FBI,” I tell her. “And the owner of a private security firm I’ve contracted outside of Brandon Enterprises for this and many other things.”

  “And Nick and his team are all damn good,” Seth adds. “They have a hacker they call GI Joe, whom they brought in on this last night, and I was damn glad. I worked with him on a CIA operation about six years ago. He’s top Gemini caliber and he’s a real asset right now.” He glances at me. “Can you walk me to the elevator?”

&n
bsp; “In other words you want to talk about me without me,” Emily says. “I’ll go get my purse.”

  “Emily—” I start.

  “It’s okay,” she says. “I’m okay. Actually, really, I know more than I did and I think once I digest it all, I’ll be even more okay.”

  “I’ll meet you back here in five minutes.”

  She nods, rounding the island while Seth and I head to the door, stepping into the hallway. I pull the door shut, having no intention of walking to the elevator. Seth faces me. “Her bank account is being drained in weekly chunks, each time under the amount that requires reporting.”

  “What about his bank accounts?”

  “They haven’t been touched, but he hasn’t had more than ten thousand in either of the two accounts in three months. Prior to that he had a chunk of change. We’re working on what happened to it.”

  “Did he plan this, and move his money in advance?”

  “That’s where my head is on this. As far as his plan to protect Emily or throw her to the wolves, I need more information. I need a man on the ground in Austin to try to locate the brother.”

  “Make it happen,” I say, and shift topics. “What about BP? Anything on last night’s potential security breach?”

  “Our men discreetly checked the building and found nothing, but as Emily said, I’m not liking what my gut is telling me.”

  “I’ve already trying to reach Brody’s people.”

  “I’m meeting with Nick on all of the above.”