Read One to Keep (One to Hold) Online
Authors: Tia Louise
Tags: #hea, #romance, #steamy, #desert, #nonteen, #adult, #detective, #beach, #alpha, #military, #sexy
One to Keep (One to Hold)
By Tia Louise
For Mr. TL, to whom I’m tied.
No bubblegum required.
And to Paul Walker, the original (visual) inspiration for Patrick.
Gone too soon.
Copyright
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or win it from an author-sponsored giveaway, this book has been pirated. Please delete it from your device, and support the author(s) by purchasing a legal copy from one of its many distributors.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
One to Keep
Copyright © Tia Louise, 2014
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover design by Regina Wamba of
MaeIDesign.com
.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.
Chapter 2 – Removal of Long-Story Stacy
Chapter 5 – You Only Live Once
Chapter 6 – Fucking Fatal Attraction
Chapter 7 – Exile in the Desert
Chapter 11 – Whatever it Takes
Chapter 13 – Reunited This Way
Chapter 17 – Changing Everything
Chapter 18 – A Blue Suede Shoe Drops
Chapter 20 – The Redemption Box
Chapter 1 – More Than a Slip
Either I was being hazed or this was a test.
It was my first day in the Alexander-Knight, LLC, office, sitting in a square-shaped, black leather chair across the desk from my prospective business partner, Derek Alexander, and he wasn’t speaking. He was quietly reading my résumé like he should’ve done before I got here.
To say it was pissing me off would be an understatement.
I could fill in the blanks for him: Patrick Knight, single, retired Guard-turned private investigator.
I was a closer. A deal maker. I looked clients in the eye and told them I’d get their shit done. And I did.
I’d relocated from Chicago to Princeton a month ago to take my older brother Stuart’s place at their private investigative firm. A retired Marine, Stuart had taken a job in Saudi Arabia, and his partner Derek needed a replacement. Enter me.
But I wasn’t coming here to be treated like a subordinate, and I sure as hell wasn’t coming here as Stuart’s little brother. So whatever the fuck was going on right now had about five more seconds…
“Sorry.” Derek lowered the pages and moved forward in his chair. “I would’ve read this before you got here, but I just got off a plane.” He glanced past his open office door to the blonde sitting out front. “It was supposed to be in my files.”
I’d noticed the receptionist when I walked in the door. Bedroom eyes, slim hips, a perfect set of tits—it appeared Alexander-Knight hired the staff for more than their clerical skills. I could work with that. Apology accepted.
“Nice help,” I said with a smile.
He blew air through his lips and looked back at my portfolio. “Incompetent.”
“But good
under
the desk.” It was an attempt at humor, but he didn’t take it.
His jaw flexed, and he studied me. “What are your strengths?”
“What?”
“Strengths.” His tone was sharp. “What are you good at?”
“You’re looking at the list.”
“Off the list. What do you prefer?”
My eyebrow rose as I thought about it. I wasn’t expecting this question. “Domestic is a pain in the ass. As is kidnapping. I’m not interested in watching the should-be faithful break their vows, and I don’t deal with fucked up spouses stealing kids. I won’t take crying babies from their mothers.”
He nodded. “I understand that.”
“Embezzlement, corporate fraud, insider trading… that’s the good stuff.” I glanced toward the door. “Usually includes a hot secretary ready to spill. With the right motivation.”
His brow lowered. “We don’t sleep with clients.”
I shrugged. “It’s not usually necessary—”
“It’s never necessary.”
Okay, for the record, I got the “don’t shit where you eat” rule. But in our business, clients came and went. An occasional dip in the ink was as much a part of the shtick as smoking cigarettes or wearing trench coats. Both of which I guess had gone out of fashion…
“Whatever,” I said.
The truth was, I’d never actually slept with a client. I’d always been with Stacy, my ex-fiancée. But the way that had ended revised
all
my former habits. I’d wasted a lot of time being the nice guy, the rule-follower, and I’d had my heart punted like a damn football for it.
It was okay—it was the best thing that could’ve happened to me, because it brought me to my new understanding: You only live once.
Life was about being lucky and smart, and Derek Alexander was my business partner, not my boss. We did not have to have the same ideas about handling cases. Or clients.
He stood and went to the door. “I’ll show you Stuart’s old office.”
I followed him out, across the open floor-plan. My eyes drifted around the space—dark wood furnishings paired with frosted, etched-glass dividers sporting the A&K logo; clean lines, straight edges. Very professional.
Mine would be the other corner office with a wall of windows overlooking… congested Route 1. “Great view.”
He barely noticed. “Stuart said you’re good. I’m glad to have you join me if you’d like the job.”
What would be my desk was empty except for a slim Macbook. Several bankers’ boxes were stacked in the corner.
“Work’s been piling up since he left for Saudi.”
“I can start today.” I held out my hand, and he gave it a brief, firm shake.
“Good. Make yourself at home.” Pausing at the door, he looked back. “I’ll have Nikki set up your computer and bring you the passwords. She can do that at least.”
The last bit was added under his breath, and I assumed Nikki was the pinup out front. I imagined she could do a lot more than setup my computer.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Oh, and Patrick, we don’t take domestic cases.” A hint of a grin—a crack in the wall—was at the corner of his mouth. It was possible this guy might not be such a bad business partner. Stuart wouldn’t have sent me here otherwise.
I exhaled a laugh and nodded. “Good.”
Turning back to the windows, I stared at the cars clogging up the highway while I waited for Nikki. Princeton wasn’t the most exciting place on Earth, but I’d made my choice—this over Afghanistan.
Retired military like Stuart (and me) could get cushy jobs in Middle East security that only lasted three months and paid a shit load of money. But I didn’t want to go back there again and again. I was sick of the desert. Instead, I’d come here.
Last week I’d found my apartment and moved all my stuff in, the plasma TV was in place, Bose surround-sound set up—the necessities. After that, I’d spent a few days following up with clients about my move and getting to know the area. Now I was jonesing for a date.
“Good morning, Mr. Knight.” Nikki’s voice was breathy and high, just like it needed to be. She had those fake, glossy nails that were supposed to look natural, I guessed, and she sat in my chair as she opened the laptop on my desk. Her hand quickly moved the wireless mouse, and her nails clicked against the keys. “I’ll just enter all the information, but I’ll leave the card with you in case you need it again.”
“Thanks.” I walked back to where she sat.
Stuart worked in this office six years and never said a word about the eye candy. All he said was Derek needed a partner, and he was trustworthy. I supposed he was also cheap and didn’t want to have to change the letterhead and logo—much less the glass doors at the entrance with
Alexander & Knight
lasered into them.
“You can call me Patrick.”
Nikki’s blue eyes flickered to me briefly from under thick, black lashes then back to the computer. Her lashes were as fake as her too-long, white-blonde hair that was teased up into a side ponytail. But I wasn’t judging. The green wrap-dress she wore was skin-tight and stopped at the middle of her smooth, tanned thighs. The girl was stacked, and she clearly took care of herself. I stood behind her shoulder, where I had full view of the dark crack between her nice, round breasts.
“You worked here long?” I hoped she’d lean back a little. She did and lifted her chin, too. Bonus.
“A couple months,” she said in that voice.
“Like it here?”
“It has its moments.” Her tongue touched her bottom lip as she smiled, and her eyes moved from my face, down my chest to my waist, and then slowly up again.
