One to Keep (One to Hold) (2 page)

Her full lips were light pink with a darker line around the edges, and I imagined them curving into the shape of an
O
. Her head was just a dip away from my crotch, and my pants grew tight across the fly at the thought of that warm mouth covering me… I was pretty sure we were both thinking the same thing when Derek’s voice broke through the tension.

“Nikki, I need to see you in my office.”

She blinked and stood, shaking her head as she exhaled, “What now,” but she paused at the door. The shiny gold heels she wore flexed her toned calves, and her toenails were painted the same color as her lips. “You’re online now. Let me know if you need anything else.”

I liked how she said
anything
. I looked forward to working late, needing her assistance, peeling that dress away… Today, however, I was only staying a few hours. I had to finish unpacking my apartment—more specifically, get the bedroom set up—if I planned on having overnight guests.

* * *

The next morning, I carried one box of supplies into my new office. It was early, and Nikki was the only one there, which suited me fine. I wanted to get to know her better.

I left the box on my desk and my blazer on the back of my chair, before going out front again. She was typing up something I couldn’t see, and she was as turned out today as she had been yesterday. Today the wrap-dress was pink, and it hugged that amazing rack perfectly. Large gold hoops dangled from her ears, and her thin brows were pulled together over baby blues.

“Mr. Alexander likes to use police codes when he enters the cases into the system,” she said as she typed. “But he never worked as a cop.”

“I’ve never worked as a cop either.”

I gave her The Smile I used to send panties flying. Her face softened with a laugh, and she held my glance a moment before returning to the computer screen.

“So you’re saying I’ll have to correct your entries, too?”

“Sounds like you think you know more than me.”

When her eyes met mine again, they held a superior look that turned me on even more. “Maybe I do.”

I was ready to test that theory in every way. Last night, I’d finished the lair, complete with 800 thread-count sheets and a brand new box of Ultra Thins. “How did you get this knowledge, Ms. Harland?”

“I worked as a dispatcher after high school and all through community college.”

That was when I caught the accent. “And where exactly did you do this dispatching?”

“Don’t pull that private dick routine on me, Mr. Knight.” Her brow arched. “I’m from Corbin, Kentucky.”

God, I loved cocky southern women. I could tell she’d be a lot of fun in the sack, and an image of me bending her over that desk, fondling those perfect tits and pounding her as she moaned for more flickered across my mind, causing a stir below my waist. “You might enjoy a little private dick routine from me.”

She laughed, not backing down. “What makes you think I don’t already have a private dick of my own?”

I was ready to find out when Derek pushed through the glass front doors, ending our banter. Again, he wore a dark suit and tie, and he only briefly assessed my casual appearance. He didn’t fool me. The collar-length hair and close beard said a military dress code wasn’t his deal. His Gucci look was clearly a personal quirk—one I had no intention of acquiring.

“Good morning, Mr. Alexander,” Nikki said, turning back to her computer. She was all business again, but Derek didn’t even respond.

He continued past us, only pausing briefly to speak to me. “Would you be able to start on the Alliance Bank case today?”

I gave Nikki a smile and a wink before following the big guy back to his office. “The hacker job?”

“They need a report by Friday if possible. Williams wants to go after the whole ring.”

I’d looked at it yesterday afternoon before I left. It was in the top banker’s box. A ring of five hackers were pulling the half-cent-add to every transaction con. It didn’t sound like much, but with the big banks, it added up fast. And took a while to detect.

“It seems pretty open and shut to me,” I said. “Friday shouldn’t be a problem.”

Derek placed the slim case he carried on his large, mahogany desk and nodded. “Good.” He opened his computer and made a few clicks. I started to go, but he stopped me. “Any interest in going to Scottsdale in a few weeks?”

“Arizona?” I frowned. “At the hottest time of the year? Why?”

“I’ve been invited to do a security workshop for a banker’s conference, but I’d rather stick close and keep an eye on Wallace Trading.” He sat and leaned back in his leather chair. “I was planning to turn it down, but you could take it. It’s a good way to meet new clients.”

“How soon do you need to know?”

He stood and moved a few files around like he was searching for something. “A-sap.”

I nodded, starting for the door. “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

The box holding my work essentials was in the center of my desk, and for a moment, I surveyed the contents—an old Bears mug, a couple of hardbound legal texts I used pretty regularly, a baseball-shaped stress ball, a now-empty picture frame.

I pulled the ball out and gave it a squeeze while I considered moving the entire contents to the dumpster—saving the books, of course. All the other shit brought my former life back too irritatingly close for comfort.

Still holding the ball, I leaned back in my chair with one of the books. Nikki’s comment about correcting my reports was in my head, and I was pretty sure this one had police codes in the index. Feet on the desk, I saw what I thought was a piece of cardboard stuck between the pages, but when I flipped it over, it was more like a million iron-fisted slams straight to the gut. Stacy.

My kid sister Amy had taken this picture of us at the Navy Pier a year ago—the day I’d proposed. The day she’d said yes, knowing she was screwing my neighbor. My jaw clenched as I studied my blissed-out expression. What a joke.

Her blonde hair ended in the slightest flip at her shoulders, and I looked like a first-class sucker with my arms around her waist, kissing her cheek. I was only twenty-seven when we met, and two years later I proposed. In hindsight, I decided my feelings were a combination of feeling like it was “time,” whatever the fuck that means, and of her being the first woman I’d connected with after Afghanistan.

Either way, she did not share my level of commitment.

It was a really classy send-off, too. Her in my kitchen, on her back on my bar, moaning with her knees spread wide. The dick from 24B had his face buried between her thighs, and he was going to town.

Fuck the tightness in my chest. I crushed the glossy print in my fist and leaned back, slamming the stress ball hard as I could against the opposite wall.

CRASH!
My aim was too high, and the large, black-and-white framed art photo was now shattered. Shit.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Nikki was breathless as she rushed into my office, but I was already across the room, taking down the frame. Glass was everywhere.

“My hand slipped.” I didn’t turn around. I was pretty sure remnants of anger were still on my face, but I kept my back to her, trying to hide it.

“Sounds like a lot more than a slip.” Her tone said she was onto me as she took the picture. “Poor Wilson.”

“Wilson?”

“The tiger whose picture you smashed. It’s from the university.” She only paused a moment before going to the door. “Hang on, we keep a vacuum in the kitchen closet. Don’t cut yourself.”

I bent down and started collecting the larger fragments and tossing them in the trash.
Bee stings… needles… rope burns… glass cuts.
It was a game Stuart and I made up when we were kids. Who could name the worst kind of pain. Those were real injuries, that Stacy flashback was bullshit.

“Here, stand back.” Nikki positioned the long silver hose and bent over to capture the splinters of glass.

I leaned forward to retrieve the stress ball, and shiny heels lifted her ass almost directly in my face. Wrapped in that tight pink dress that hit mid-thigh, the view reminded me the best way to kill bad memories. I was inches from sliding my fingers between her legs, teasing her soft folds, dipping a finger inside—I could almost hear her satisfied sighs. Sure I played the field, but at least I was a gentleman about it. Ladies always came first.

Watching her derriere sway a bit longer, I wondered how I could get a read on her feelings about the matter. I was pretty sure she was considering it this morning. Just then, I noticed Derek standing in the doorway watching us.

“What happened?” His voice sounded more annoyed than concerned.

“Stress balls don’t bounce.” I tossed it up and caught it as I stood. My fantasy of fingering Nikki had me feeling better as I went back to my desk.

She switched off the vacuum. “That should be all of it,” she said, carrying the appliance to the door.

“How much longer on those emails?” Derek asked as she passed.

“I’ll have them to you by lunch.” I could see she was irritated by his question, but I was pretty sure he couldn’t. “I can’t predict when one of you’s going to tear your office apart.”

“Oh, sorry, Nik,” I called after her. “And thanks.”

She didn’t answer, but Derek cut in, still seeming annoyed. “You doing anything after work today?”

As a matter of fact, I hoped to be doing something soft and pink, and she was headed back to her workstation right at that moment.

“Why?” I was already plotting my approach.

“Building E has a fitness center. It’s part of the complex, so we get a free membership with rent.”

My eyes went to my senior partner’s. “Good to know.”

“I need a spotter, and you look like you could work off some steam.”

Sitting in my chair, I had to laugh. “Look, Derek. You’re a hot piece of ass—I’m secure enough to say it—but I’m straight.”

That dark brow lowered over his blue eyes, and I could tell he could probably be one scary motherfucker when he needed to be. “Fuck you, too,” he said. “Be at the gym at five. On time.”

Exhaling loudly, I leaned back in my chair, squeezing the stress ball. He was probably right. Screwing Nikki could ultimately backfire. Still, I’d be damned if I went much longer without getting laid.

Chapter 2 – Removal of Long-Story Stacy

Derek loaded the bar to 285 and stood at my head as I lay back on the bench. “See how many you can do.”

I’d started exercising pretty regularly after my breakup. It filled the time and deadened the pain. It also had perks, as most women (all women?) appreciated a cut naked torso as opposed to a flabby one. Still, I wasn’t near as jacked as my partner here.

He’d overloaded the bar for me, and I was pretty sure he knew it. But hell if I was backing down from this pissing contest. I gripped the metal, inhaled deeply, and pressed. Immediately, the burn shot down the backs of my arms. I lowered it, tightened my abs, and pushed up again. Derek caught it at the top and guided it back to the rack.

“Good,” he said, walking around to take my spot as I sat up.

I took his place, pressing my lips together as I helped him guide the bar off the rack again. He did a set of four before returning it.
Dick
.

While he recovered, I adjusted the strap on my glove. “How long you been working out?”

“Going on five years.” He pushed his dark hair out of his face. That with the beard made him look like a beefed-up, blue-eyed Jesus.

“
After
the Marines?”

“After my wife died.” He said it in a way that didn’t invite questions. I didn’t ask, but hell if I wasn’t curious.

“I started about a year ago.” Then I turned on The Smile. “It helps to look good for the ladies.”

“Does that include Stacy?”

I had enough self-control not to pop him one. “Stuart tell you about that?”

“Just reading your arm. Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.” He stood and walked over to grab his water bottle.

Fucking tattoo. I looked down at my inner forearm where I’d had her name inked in a cursive script. “Know anybody who can help me with this?”

For the first time he laughed. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Pulling up his sleeve, I saw the requisite
SF
-with-eagle tattoo all Marines had somewhere on their bodies.

“That’s good work,” I said.

“I’ve known Carl a while. Runs a clean shop, and I handled a case for him last year. He’s a good guy.”

“I thought you didn’t take domestic cases.”

“I make exceptions for old friends. Sometimes.”

We started curl reps using oversized dumbbells. Derek’s were about a third larger than mine, but I wasn’t competing with him. I already had an older brother to bust my balls.

“What’s the name?” I hissed through an exhale.

“Living Arts. It’s not too far from downtown.” He exhaled a lift. “I’ll put in a call for you.”

“That’s okay,” I said dropping the weights. All the Stacy talk had me done for the day. “I can take care of myself. See you tomorrow.”