How to Kill Your Boss (8 page)

“Do I need to go?”

“You’re not required to leave. Wouldn’t you feel safer staying with someone? What about your boyfriend, the man who was here yesterday?”

I almost laughed. Bit hard on my lip instead. “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

The handsome detective’s eyes grew wide. “Could’ve fooled me. I noticed the way he looked at you.” He winked as if he’d given me top-secret, valuable information. Wow. The gruff detective was a romantic at heart. How sweet.

“Not to worry. We’ll be working through the night, I suspect. There will be officers stationed outside as well. Please don’t be offended when they insist on escorting you in and out as you go.”

“Thank you.” I attempted a smile. “Where did they take Jacob? I called the three major hospitals earlier and nobody had record of him being admitted.”

The detective’s face hardened. “As soon as I hear how he’s doing, I’ll let you know.” He paused as if debating whether or not to say more, then huffed. “You have my number. Call me any time. Day or night.” He winked, then closed the door behind him.

The black leather bodysuit squeaked as I prowled the unlit alley. I should’ve broken it in before carrying out my mission. Thank goodness the city noise hid the swoosh, swoosh of my thighs rubbing together. The mile-high spike heels made it difficult to navigate the cobblestone street, but damn they looked hot, and they were the main attraction for the evening’s events.

I pulled the black mask into place, covering my face from nose to forehead. I didn’t have a mirror to check myself, but who wouldn’t look sexy and mysterious in a get-up like this?

I flattened myself against the wall and waited for my prey. Footsteps grew louder, bounced off the old brick buildings. One set. Good, he was alone. Made my job so much easier.

My heart raced with nervous excitement as he drew closer. I took one last deep breath, squatted, and performed a swinging, side-sweep kick as he passed. Caught him an inch above his ankles. He fell face-first at my side with a grunt.

The heel of my boot found a nice little resting spot at the base of his neck.

“Good evening, Mr. Cruse.” I’d lowered my voice to make it sound dangerous and sultry.

He tried to rise. I held him in place with my stiletto spike.

“What are you doing?” He struggled to speak and fought to keep his open mouth away from the dirty ground.

“Tell me, Mr. Cruse. Are you even the slightest bit sorry for the terrible things you’ve done?”

Wallace squirmed underneath the weight of my foot. I pressed harder. He grunted and blew a puff of air.

“Do you suffer any remorse for the lives you’ve ruined on your journey to the top?”

Shrill laughter rose from the ground. “Never.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” His flesh strained under the pressure of my heel. I angled my foot. Pushed harder. His skin popped, breaking under the strain.

“Is that Italian leather?” he asked with a whimper.

“Oh yes, Mr. Cruse. I knew you’d appreciate the outfit. Paid an arm and a leg for these boots. They’re worth every penny though. Wanna know why?”

Wallace blinked and nodded.

With a slight twist, the spring-loaded blade in the heel of my thigh-highs pierced his neck and made a soft ding when it dug into the stone beneath him.

“Who are you?” Blood spurted between his lips, dribbled down his chin.

“I’m payback and I’m a bitch.”

Morning hung over me like a layer of oily fog, heavy and suffocating.

I struggled to rise and haul myself to the shower. Barely mustered the energy to wash my hair. Getting dressed posed a challenge. Each article of clothing I tried on rubbed my skin like a scouring pad. The AM hours were usually my favorite time of day. That was no longer the case.

Franklin Reed and his damn panty-melting smile, his unexpected, yet timely injection into my life, had the gears in my brain grinding off kilter. Made it difficult to accomplish the smallest of tasks. I gave up hope of kick-starting my day with coffee when I’d brewed a whole pot of nothing but hot water.

I wasn’t nervous about facing him at the office. Maybe I was too angry. Confused. In shock? Couldn’t be certain. I was damn sure, though, I didn’t want to sit in my house the entire day and sulk or worry over the horrors of the past forty-eight hours. Work was a much needed distraction. I could ignore Franklin if need be. Like I could ignore a toothpick jammed under my fingernail.

A young police officer, obviously new gauging by the spring in his step and the cock in his voice, escorted me to my car. By some miracle, I managed to make it to the office ten minutes early. I’d even taken a detour to pick up a venti caramel macchiato. Breakfast of champions.

I fought the urge to buy a morning drink for my new, now ex, sex buddy. A thank-you for rocking my world, for giving me crippling orgasms. On a normal day, I would’ve. Bastard wasn’t getting any nicey-nice from me. Not until he explained why there was a picture of me in his pants, and why every conversation via cell was treated as top secret.

I greeted Nan with a fake smile as I passed. The gesture wasn’t returned, which was out of character for her. In her defense, she was on the phone, and held a cup of tea to her lips. Seemed to be chin-deep in an intense exchange by the glower she wore.

When I rounded the corner to my office, I wobbled in my platform pumps. The space reeked of male heat. Warm, spicy. Oh, so sexy.

Damn him.

A white to-go cup of something steamy sat on my desk, right next to a single red rose.

Just my luck, he’d beaten me to work.

Thank goodness Wallace was out of town. No way could I juggle his narcissistic ways as well as Franklin’s overwhelming presence. Not after the weekend I’d managed to escape.

I swallowed the last drip of sugary heaven from my cup and moved aside the mystery drink. I pondered, but didn’t touch the rose. Wasn’t ready to process that yet. Bold move on his part. Office policy prohibited dating co-workers. How would I explain this if anyone asked? Why would he risk our jobs? We weren’t even dating. Just fornicating. I walked to the window to open the shades, lingering to enjoy the view.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” Heated breath tickled the back of my head. The funk of anger and male testosterone wafted off him.

Startled, I swung around and knocked a file folder from Franklin’s hand. He didn’t look down. Didn’t bend to pick it up. His chest rose and fell. Piercing blue eyes narrowed.

My ticker danced a jig behind my ribcage. Even angry, he took my breath away. I skirted him and shuffled to my desk, biding time. He followed, hot on my heels.

“I wouldn’t have touched you if I’d known there was somebody else. I don’t play games, Tate.” He leaned past me and the silk of his shirt brushed my cheek. He grabbed the rose then twirled it in front of my nose. The venom I’d been eager to unleash on him melted when disappointment, or maybe sadness, flashed in his eyes.

Wait. What? Somebody else? I snatched the flower from him. A thorn pricked my thumb. “Ouch.” I cussed under my breath, tossed the rose on my keyboard, and snagged a tissue to dab the blood. “That’s not from you?” I turned and gripped the edge of my desk for support. This was not the discussion I’d anticipated.

With a quick glance at the door, Franklin brought our bodies flush, suffocated me in his heat and lowered his lips to tickle my cheek. “I don’t do roses. Too cliché.” He straightened and took a step back. “If I did, I wouldn’t be careless enough to give you one here and risk your job. Why would you think that was from me?” He looked honestly perplexed.

Which only pissed me off.

“Hmm, let’s see. For starters, to apologize, maybe?” I couldn’t loosen my death grip.

His gaze raked my body. Up, then down, then up again. “What exactly would I be apologizing for? You kicked me out, remember?”

Was he serious?

“What for? What
for
? Are you dense? For fooling me into trusting you. Getting me naked. Keeping secrets.” I turned to dig the evidence from my purse and shoved the photo into the palm of his hand. “For spying on me. God, how could I be so careless? How long exactly has this been going on, Mr. Reed? Don’t lie to me. I can’t take any more bullshit.”

When I should’ve run for the door, I slumped into my chair, crossed my arms and legs simultaneously, and waited. I needed to hear his explanation.

Franklin backed away, propped his shoulder against the wall and studied the pictures. “Is this why you threw me out?”

“Yes.” I held my head high. “And the secret phone calls.”

His gaze hardened. So did the knot in my gut. I wasn’t about to let him intimidate me. “Explain the photo please.”

“This isn’t mine. I found it.”

“Where?”

“Next to your car, in the parking garage.” He shoved it into his pocket. “You’re right about one thing. Someone is spying on you. It sure as hell isn’t me. You can be damned sure I’ll find out who it is.”

The angry heat that fueled my morning left my body in one swift gust, only to be replaced with ice cold panic.

With a quick glance to the hallway, he came closer and lowered his voice. He paused and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Maybe not you. Maybe your neighbor. It makes more sense, considering the brutality of his attack.”

It dawned on me that he hadn’t heard the latest breaking news. “Franklin, they found hoodie man in Jacob’s apartment yesterday. Someone strung him up in the entryway. It was awful…” I cringed and shook my head as if the motion would clear the images from my brain. “The blood—”

“You saw him?” He cut me off, scolding through gritted teeth. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me?” A crimson glow coated his face. I’m pretty sure I witnessed a new wrinkle carving itself into his forehead.

“I didn’t call you because I’m not your problem. This isn’t your problem. We fucked, Franklin. Nothing more. It doesn’t give us any claim over one another.”

“For Christ’s sake, lower you voice.” With another glance over his shoulder, he leaned toward me, pulled my chair closer to him then pressed his lips to my ear.

My muscles turned to warm butter.

“You shouldn’t use that word. Your mouth is too pretty. Let’s get one thing straight.” His whispered breaths were flames licking my skin. “We didn’t fuck. What I did to you was merely foreplay. Understand?”

His palm rested on my thigh. Fingers dug in. Demanded I listen and listen good.

“When I take you, and I hope it’ll be soon, there will be no question in that clever little mind of yours that you’ve been thoroughly…” He bit my ear, slid his hand up my thigh and squeezed harder. “Well, you know.”

His free hand slid around my neck, under my hair, gripped hard at the base of my skull. Sparks shot through my abdomen. Our eyes met only for a brief moment before he forced our mouths together and kissed me hard. As fast as he attacked, he released me, pushed my chair away and strode across the room to look out the window.

“Morning all!” Nan’s cheerful smile drooped the moment she laid eyes on me, slumped, heaving, disheveled in my chair.

I raised a palm. “Happy Monday Nan. Have a good weekend?” I impressed myself with the ability to speak after the kiss. Although, by the look on her face, I hadn’t fooled her.

Franklin kept his back turned. Grunted a “good morning” to her. She glanced at me, eyebrows raised, and flashed me an
oh, we’re so going to talk
smile.

I lowered my gaze. Busted. The woman had superhuman mind-reading abilities.

“Even from out of state, Mr. Cruse is sucking in more clients. We’re going to have a busy week. Seems there aren’t any couples left in Seattle who aren’t cheating on each other.” Nan glanced at the single flower on my desk then back to me. “Shall we disappear for lunch later?”

I nodded, squeezing my thighs together.

She handed me a stack of file folders, winked, then made her exit with a playful spring in her step. Thank God, she wasn’t the nosey type, otherwise lunch would be torture.

When the coast was clear, I prodded the formidable man devouring the space we shared. “Why didn’t you tell me about the picture until now?”

He didn’t turn to face me, but did grant me a great view of his profile. Square, strong jawbone, thick lashes, scruffier-than-usual stubble.

“You’d been through enough. I was waiting for the right time. It’s why I pushed on the extra security.” His shoulders bunched and his head tilted to the side. “You honestly don’t know who the rose is from?”

“No. I assumed it was you.” Like an idiot.

“I’ll take care of it.” He ripped the obtrusion from my desk and tossed it in the trash. I was glad to see it go. I wasn’t glad to see Franklin button his suit jacket and storm down the hall.

What just happened? I came to work hell-bent on getting answers and there I sat with bruised lips, a female version of a woody and more questions. Grrr. And I hadn’t even fired up my computer yet.

Mondays sucked.

* * * *

Lunch was torture. Nan suddenly took an unusual interest in my love life. I only went so far as telling her Franklin and I enjoyed our time at the bar. The events that happened afterward were for me alone. She pried. I lied. Nan didn’t buy it and prodded more.

When finally sick of the twenty questions, I attempted to change the subject. “Did you hear about the murder?”

Eyes wide, she shook her head and drew a long drink of iced tea through her straw.

Unusual. Nan was my own personal news network. I never had to watch. Nan kept me updated. Twitter, internet, radio. It hit her from a hundred directions. How did she not hear about the murder? Two horrific attacks in the same home. How did that not make headlines?

I briefly told her about Jacob’s attack and the man found dead. I left out the part about me finding him, or the fact he was near and dear to me. I couldn’t handle any sympathy.

“Strange it wasn’t broadcast.” She pulled out her tablet and started to search. “Nothing. There is absolutely nothing here about any murder. That’s odd.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and tapped her straw against the edge of her glass. I could almost see the gears grinding behind her soft brown eyes. “What do you know about the guy?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.