Dirty Ties (14 page)

She slammed to a stop on the other side of her bike and bent over it, likely checking to see if I’d tampered with it. Her leathers were straightened and zipped, but I knew what was beneath. A ripped tank top. Hard nipples. Drenched panties. Fuck.

Her visor locked with mine, no doubt hiding a glare to match her rigid stance. “What did you just do?”

Something I should’ve done years ago.
I’d never thought to track her, had always been focused on her parents. She was the second phase of my plan. The part where I would walk into Trenchant, force them to hire me, and name me the new CEO, all in order to oversee her activities, as well as all the other dirty ties at Trenchant Media.

I didn’t give a shit about the job, but the top-level access would make it easier to string together all the loose ends. Until then, I didn’t know if Kaci was included in my plans to destroy Trenchant. It wasn't like I was gunning to destroy her, but I couldn’t help but lump her in with the rest of her vile family.

Flashlight aimed in one hand, I straddled my bike.

She moved to my side, fists on her hips, helmet cocked at the beam of light. “What are you doing with that?”

“Ignore her,” Benny barked.

I held the light and shoved my key in the ignition, attempting a brush-off, but my mouth moved anyway. “The light washes out the cameras.”

“Good.” Kaci lowered her arms and nodded. “That’s good.”

Yeah, wouldn’t want her husband to find out she was a cheating, fucking whore. I fired up the bike, the engine spitting a growl between us.

“Wait.” She held out her hand, palm up. “I want that metal thing.”

“Need to go, Logan,” Benny said with urgency. “Guards will be checking on that elevator any minute.”

I didn’t respond, didn’t want Kaci to question,
again
, who I was talking to.

“I don’t know what happened back there.” Kaci shoved her raised palm an inch from my chest. “Or what made you run, but you can’t have a key to my condo.” She shook her hand at me. “Whatever that thing is, hand it over.”

That
thing
was an RFID reader, and from three feet away, it transmitted the security codes from her key card. Codes that Benny hacked to control the power in the elevator. And this wisp of woman was out of her mind to think she could demand anything from me.

“No.” I raised the kickstand with my boot and backed up the bike.

She walked alongside, her hand reaching out and gripping my bicep. “Why?”

Her voice was soft, almost too soft beneath the din of the bike, but I’d been listening for it, fucking straining to hear her. Worse, I couldn’t bring myself to jerk away from her touch.

“Logan,” Benny shouted. “Slap the bitch and burn rubber.”

I slammed my teeth together and stopped the roll of the bike. I’d forgotten Benny could hear both sides of the conversation.

Keeping the flashlight leveled, I reached up, hit the button, and killed the connection. To Kaci, I said, “I’m not giving you shit.”

Her hand tightened on my arm. “I meant, why are you acting like this? What did I do?”

Seriously? I clamped my fist on the handlebar’s grip. She should be asking her husband that question. Of course, she didn’t know I knew she was married. Hell, maybe she didn’t care. Fidelity wasn’t exactly a trait that ran in the family.

She straightened her back, standing taller beside me. Her helmet tipped down, her thick rope of hair curling around one breast, taunting me.

I needed to shut her down and deliver a direct punch that would persuade her to forget all about Evader. “You give lousy head.”

Her hand jerked away and clutched at her stomach. “Liar.”

Christ, the hurt in her voice tightened my chest. I should tell her to go fuck herself and convince her I was a belligerent asshole. Which I was. Because her mouth had damned near destroyed me. She didn’t just know how to suck my cock, she’d fucking owned it.

And she knew it.

What she didn’t know was, during that dark, heated moment in the elevator, I’d seen her face. I knew her identity, her family, and all their dirty little secrets.

Without warning, her hand shot out and gripped my balls, her thumb pressing against the stiff proof of my lie. “The truth, Evader.” The sad desperation in her tone clashed with the angry clutch of her fingers.

“Remove your fucking hand.”
Grip me. Jerk it hard.

She tightened her grasp, shooting a flood of heat through my cock. She had me by the balls, and in what was clearly a moment of insanity, I fucking loved it.

I hated her for that, for making me want her, which inflamed the urge to demean her, to call her a slut, to tell her I knew she was an unfaithful wife. She deserved the full wrath of every searing thought, every pound of forbidden pleasure she’d ignited.

But from her standpoint, Evader didn’t know who she was, and it would stay that way. I didn’t want her questioning how I knew or anything about the technology I used. I needed her to forget about Evader altogether.

I grabbed her wrist and used it to force her back. “Guards are coming.”

As she looked around the empty garage, I tucked down, hit the gas, and gave it full stick. Bolting forward, I shot up the ramp, the tear of the engine vibrating my fury.

In the rear-view cam, she stomped her boot, her tits bouncing beneath the jacket, her hands balled at her sides. Then she raised an arm and flipped off my back.

Fuck her anger. She had no right to be pissed. I slammed my fist against the handlebar. Fucking whore.

Two guards lifted their heads as I zipped around the corner. I shined the flashlight in their faces, which was absurd. They’d seen me. At least they didn’t have me on video.

The garage door rose, its sensor picking up my approach. I darted beneath, and as I merged into traffic, the nauseating plunge of regret crashed in. The shaking in my hands. The erratic thump of my pulse. The image of her body beneath her leathers. The knowledge that I’d touched another man’s wife. I shifted my ass on the seat, unable to dull the discomfort between my legs.

I would see her again. Soon, in fact. But not the way I’d seen her tonight. Next time, there would be no helmets, no spark of recognition on her part. She wouldn’t even know my voice.

Really, I had no idea how our next meeting would go. I’d collected enough evidence to turn in her family. And maybe I had enough money to fight their team of crooked lawyers and put them behind bars.

But they didn’t deserve the justice of the legal system.

What about her? What was her involvement? Her access to the racing network was spectacularly unnerving and unexpected. What did she gain from it? Did she know who I was, how I was connected to her?

Impossible. Very few people knew Maura Flynt had a son. Not even Trent Anderson. But he would.

In five days, we would meet for the first time. He expected a meeting with Logan Smith, an interview candidate for some VP position with a resume of fake experience.

But he would get Logan Flynt, a ghost from his past with a satchel full of blackmail.

Soulless
. Not that a building was capable of deep feeling, but everything about this place, from the cold marble and fancy lighting to the wrinkle-free cushion beneath my ass, aspired to impress. And failed.

The modern display of wealth chilled the fucking air, stiff and lifeless like the puppets who wandered the halls. The entire executive floor seemed to be waiting for my next breath so it could suck the moisture, the taste, the goddamned effervescence from my being.

Even Trent Anderson’s pretty assistant, Alicia Murphy, gave me the heebie jeebies. Her painted-on smile and straight brown hair were flawless. She sat behind a hunk of imported wood, she and the desk polished to a glossy shine. The kind of shine that tried too hard to hide the imperfections beneath.

Was the pretentious decor a representation of the real Kaci Baskel? Tedious, predictable lines to match her tightly-wrapped hair and rigid suits?

Well, that was why I was here. To break down Trenchant’s mighty walls and determine what her role was within them. To do that, I was prepared to put up some repulsive pretenses to act in the company’s best interest. Didn’t mean I had to like it.

The easy route would’ve been to take out the entire family—Kaci and Collin included—from a safe distance. But if they were clean? I flexed my hands. Destroying innocent lives would make me as evil as the ones who destroyed my mother’s.

I leaned back in the chair and forced my fingers to relax on my thighs. What I really wanted to do was tug at the necktie and free the button strangling my throat.

Meeting Trent wasn’t what had my nerves buzzing and my hands sweating all morning. It was the possibility of seeing her, breathing her in, and pitching head over feet into memory, drowning in the sweet scent of her cunt on my fingers, the velvet lilt of her voice through the helmet, all the lingering sensations from an encounter that had chased my thoughts for five days.

Every detail about that night had been unexpected. She was a wild card, and that fucking terrified me.

I drew in a steady breath, recalling what my mother said when I broke my arm the first time. When I cried like a sissy and demanded she sell my sportbike. When I threatened to never ride again.

She grabbed my helmet, my arm flopping painfully at my side, and growled through her teeth, “If you don’t wake up every morning scared out of your mind, you aren’t working hard enough, you aren’t fighting, and you aren’t
living
. You
will
get back on that bike.”

She’d been right. Arm in a cast, I was on that bike the next day and every day after, welcoming the fear with each new climb of the sun.

The phone on the desk buzzed. Alicia snatched the handset before it completed the first note of the ring tone. “Yes, Mr. Anderson.”

Her eyes sparked, a curious change from the lazy, wanton looks she’d rolled my way for the past ten minutes. “No. There’s one more appointment before lunch. He’s waiting now.” A pause. “Thank you, sir.”

Returning the phone to the cradle, she rose and sliced her gaze to me. “Mr. Anderson will see you now.”

I took my sweet-ass time gathering my messenger bag, rising to my feet, and strolling toward her, all the while hoping and dreading I’d pass Kaci in the hallway.

Alicia watched my movements, her eyes hardening when they landed on my Converse sneakers.

Fuck her. I refused to own a pair of loafers, couldn’t imagine shoving my feet into something so pretentious. The suit was bad enough.

When she raised her eyes, I winked. Her breath caught, her judgment scattering into flushed surprise.

“Right this way, Mr. Smith.” She turned on her strappy heels and sashayed down the hall. The deliberate swing in her hips was all for me. Maybe I would’ve ogled her ass under different circumstances, but she worked for Trent and given what I knew about his employees, I suspected that ass had been spread for him more times than I cared to think about.

The corridor behind Alicia’s desk led deeper into Trent’s wing. Kaci probably reigned over her own wing on the other side of the building. But if she were meeting with Trent, our paths could cross.

At the end of the main hall, I followed Alicia through heavy double doors. No Kaci. I refused to examine why my chest shrunk with disappointment.

The oversized name plaque on the wall was coated in glossy lacquer and reeked of arrogance. Much like the extravagant real estate that made up Trent’s office, the bold cityscape beyond the wall of windows, the leather couches, the wet bar sparkling with crystal tumblers, and the man perched behind the monstrous desk.

This would be my office as soon as tomorrow, and I despised it. Despised him.

He didn’t bother standing, simply waved a hand at the armchair across from him without looking up from the screen on his phone. “Have a seat.”

I lowered into the chair and straightened my suit jacket as Alicia slid a folder before him.

“Mr. Anderson,” she purred, cocking a hip beside him, “this is Logan Smith. Candidate for the Senior Vice President in the Technology Division.” She tapped the folder. “His résumé, sir.”

He flicked his eyes to her, one brow lifted. “I don’t conduct interviews, Miss Murphy. What is this?”

Benny had been right about Trent not preparing for meetings. Evidently, he didn’t even look at his schedule.

“It…it was on your calendar.” Her chin lowered, her fingers twitching against her tight skirt. “I should’ve checked with you, sir. I apologize for the error.”

It was on his calendar because Benny put it there.

I cleared my throat, effectively capturing their attention. “Miss Murphy, please collect the other board members. We have some family business to discuss.”

Her eyes widened at my audacity, and Trent’s shoulders stiffened. The skin around his thin lips tightened, his phone lowering to the desk.

He and I sat at the same height, yet he managed to look down at me, his hazel eyes tapering over the sharp line of his aristocratic nose. “What’s your name again?”

Not a hint of recognition in his unblinking gaze. Not that I expected it. But he knew something wasn’t right. Perhaps I wasn’t the first person to walk into his office with retaliation on the mind.