No Simple Sacrifice (Secrets of Stone Book 5) (20 page)

“Who’s Lance?”

“Killian’s brother. He lives in Arizona, with his partner.”

“Oh.” I drew the word out a little, locking puzzle pieces into place. “Wait. I thought his brother was a criminal.”

“That’s Trey.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Trey. Who’s still hiding outside the country, right?”

“Right.” His tawny brows furrowed. “I thought you knew all this. Weren’t you working for Andrea Asher’s company when the shit with Trey and that senator’s daughter went down?”

“I was.” I sipped my water, using the excuse to glance down. “But I wasn’t part of the team assigned to SGC.”

“Why not?” His frown deepened. “You’re sharp as a whip. You would’ve been good for that team.”

“I was wrapping up with another client at the time.” The silent addendum to it kept my gaze averted.
Wrapping up with another client—and taking some personal time to fully evacuate Gavin from my life for good. And to let the bruises heal…

“Well,” Fletcher snorted “you dodged a proverbial bullet.” He shook his head, and his damp hair tumbled again over his forehead. “Trey Stone. Fuck. Talk about black sheep.”

I let a soft smile bloom. “And talk about effectively changing the subject.”

He exhaled slowly. “You caught that, huh?” When I tapped my nose, giving him a little wink, he laughed. “Okay, so you’re
really
smart as a whip.” His gaze thickened as he swiveled in, caging me against the leather cushion. “And beautiful as a goddess. How the hell did I get so lucky?”

“You’re pretty amazing yourself, Mr. Ford.”

He tossed aside his water, twisting to press closer to me, bracing a hand on both sides of my head. Some of the chill from outside had turned into crystal droplets on his stubble, making the heat of his body an utterly erotic contrast. “Hmmm. ‘Mr. Ford’. A hundred people call me that every day, Miss Perizkova…and none of them do these amazing things to my cock.”

The new cadence of his voice, soft yet crucial as the wind outside the windows, swirled its way right down to the network of nerves between my thighs. “Is that so?”

“That’s so.” A growl edged it now. “Do it again.”

I dug a hand into his thick hair, pulling his head closer. “Yes, Mr. Ford.”

He dipped in swiftly, capturing my lips twice as fiercely as before, demanding full access with the forceful thrust of his tongue. We kissed and whispered in a little huddle as the car wound through traffic, deeper into the city, until stopping before a soaring building in the Gold Coast neighborhood.

“Nice part of town, Mr. Ford.”

“Says the California girl.” There was a question in his eyes.

“I lived here the first part of my life, you know.”

The question changed to amazement. “I don’t think I did.”

“Well, not downtown here,” I clarified. “But in the suburbs. Arlington Heights.”

“I’ll bet you were
really
adorable in your winter clothes then.”

I playfully batted him before continuing. “We moved to California when I finished eighth grade. My father got transferred to the west coast, so we settled in San Diego.”

After unfolding his lanky frame from the car then gracefully helping me out, his gaze glowed with new warmth. A bit of the sun had risen over those Lake Michigan depths. “I’m learning more and more about you every day.”

“Scared yet?” I quipped.

“Never.” We walked into a lobby, painted in a bright, trendy blue, stopped short of being garish by dark wood accents and clean, modern lighting. A uniformed man at the desk gave Fletcher a polite smile. Fletch was too absorbed in me to do more than nod in response. “Intrigued, though. Didn’t you actually live at Killian’s old condo at one point too?”

“I did. But for just a few months. I moved back here after Gavin and I broke up. I needed a clean start, and Andrea was thinking of starting a Chicago office, so sent me to handle preliminary recon. Killian was more than generous about letting me slum it at his place.” We laughed together. Killian’s old place was one of the swankiest penthouses in the city, overlooking Lincoln Park and the lake, near the zoo. “Truthfully, I don’t know what I would’ve done without Killian’s assistance. The rent he charged me probably covered the square footage on the entryway.”

“He’s one of the golden ones.” Fletch said it with surety as we entered the elevator.

“So are you.” I curled a hand into his, meaning every syllable.

He shrugged off the words, instantly refocusing on me. “So how did you end up back in California? Family pressure? The fallout from the scandal with Andrea?”

“Thank God, no.” I meant every word of that too. Anyone close to Margaux Asher—who was, in reality, Mary Stone—knew what had gone down with her “mother,” and the embezzlement she’d perpetrated with the help of Killian’s scumbag brother, Trey. Once their plan was uncovered, they’d skipped the country. “I was out of Asher and Associates before the hammer dropped,” I explained, “thanks to SGC Cosmetics. Claire suggested me for the project, but it meant moving back. Since my family is all there, and I was done licking my wounds—not to mention dreading a winter in the Windy City—I went back home.”

His hopeful face fell a bit. “So you do consider San Diego home?

It was my turn to shrug. “Well, I guess. Up until now.” I tilted my head, considering the question more deeply. “Now, I think home is wherever my heart is.” I gave him a little smile, hoping he read me as well as he always did—and would know I wasn’t opposed to the idea of moving wherever they were. It wouldn’t be fair to expect them to make all the sacrifices so we could be together.

The elevator climbed higher while we were talking, and I appreciated the distraction. My fear of heights was better suited for places like Southern California, where few buildings were over twenty stories due to earthquakes. I didn’t even know what floor we finally disembarked at, and it was probably better that way. The night sky beyond the palatial windows was black, likely denoting a storm blowing in over the lake. I couldn’t see one foot in front of me until Fletcher flipped on the lights. The security alarmed beeped until he punched in his code, silencing the air completely.

“Make yourself at home while I put your bags in the bedroom. There’s wine in the fridge, as well as a few beers and water. Other than that, I wouldn’t actually open anything you don’t recognize. It could be a biohazard. We wanted to get everything cleaned up before you came, but we’ve both been so crazy at work.”

I watched his perfect ass disappear down a dark hallway until he turned into one of the rooms. After setting my purse on a gorgeous dark wood island, I moved into the living room and sank down into the chic leather sofa.

Their apartment was beautiful, and everything I’d expected. Urban and masculine, featuring modern accents mixed with trendy but tasteful décor. Definitely a professional job that screamed bachelor pad in the most cliché but classy way possible, complete with an exposed brick accent wall adorned by a sort of reclaimed metal sculpture hanging in the middle.

Suddenly, I was washed in insecurity. While this place had an intimate vibe, it still made my UTC apartment look like a dollhouse. And every accessory in sight, from the Starship
Enterprise
electronics center to the high-end booze behind the bar, shrieked that several income brackets definitely separated me from these guys.

Was I out of my league with these two?

Of course, if I had a penny for every time I’d thought that, I’d be a very rich girl.

Before taking off my jacket and flipping it over the back of the sofa, I pulled my phone out of the pocket. After unlocking it, I frowned. Quiet. Strangely so. Not a single voice mail or missed text. Who was I kidding? There could’ve been a hundred of each but my stomach would still be twinging if none of them were from Drake.

I actually shook the thing, as if it were a glow stick and could be magically activated. Nothing came to life except a vision of him in my head, dark and beautiful and perfect. “What’s going on?” I whispered to the image…battling not to answer the plea with my own stupid doom and gloom.

He’s busy; that’s what’s going on. He’s a driven, commanding captain of industry. You’re
not
his only priority.

I opened up my email just to feel in touch with the world. Of course, work hadn’t stopped. At least three messages were marked urgent—and after tapping a fast reply to the only one that actually was, I closed the app and tossed the device onto the cushion beside me.

“Somebody piss you off?” Fletcher walked in as my phone took a second bounce on the cushion.

“No.” I tried shirking off my unease with a shrug. “Just…quiet. A lot of quiet.”

He exhaled, communicating his instant understanding. “He told me he’d be here as soon as he could.”

“I know. But why does something feel off?”

“Because you’re paranoid?” He reached down, playfully tweaking my nose. I caught his hand and softly bit his middle finger. He hissed sharply, his stare once more darkening with steely tints. “And…a lot more. But right now, let’s stick with paranoid.”

“I hope you’re right.” I feigned a smile while letting him have his hand back.

A buzzing noise came from the security alarm control pad. Fletcher walked over, pressing the green response button. “Good evening, Stuart.”

The name was fitting for the sophisticated man who’d nodded at us in the lobby. His voice was, as well, lilted with an exotic accent I couldn’t quite place. “Good evening, Mr. Ford. Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s no problem at all.” Fletcher could’ve talked the man down off a fifty-story ledge with his amiability. I easily envisioned about fifty other occupations for which he’d be perfect. Shrink. Vet. Firefighter. Minister. Talk show host. Gigolo.
Oh, hell no
. He’d be too damn good at
that
one. Then I’d have to cut some people.

“There is a courier in the lobby with a delivery for you. Shall I sign for it?”

“Yes, please.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll send Roger up with the envelope in a minute.”

“Thanks, Stu.”

“My pleasure.”

“Anything else?”

“Will you be needing a car again this evening, sir?”

“No, thanks. I’m sure we’ll all be in for the night.” As he spoke it, he turned and slid me a slow wink.
Oh God…yes.
The man could turn my bloodstream into melted caramel from thousands of miles away. From ten
steps
away, I was already a fully-cooked dessert, ready to be pulled open and devoured. My heart beat tripled as he added a knowing, sexy grin.
Bastard.
He knew exactly what he was doing to me, and relished every throbbing moment of it.

“Very well. Good night, then.”

“Uhhh…yeah. ‘Night.”

His absent-minded trail-off made me giggle and sigh in the same giddy little sound. It happened again as he sauntered back over, making me self-conscious to the point of skittish, as he plopped down beside me.

I licked my lips.

He groaned hard.

“
Fuck,
sugar.”

I laughed louder. “Turn-about is fair play, Mr. Ford. You think it was easy to weather your come-hither looks?”

“Well, coming in lots of places is definitely on the menu for tonight.”

“Thank flipping goodness.”

He pulled out his own phone, glowering at the empty notifications screen and uttering, “
Ass
.” He shook his head. “D better not be too much longer. This is torture, not dragging you back to the bedroom.” His head cocked, detecting my curiosity before it even sparked on my face. “What is it?”

I hummed and bit my lip. “A question. Simple, but weird. Don’t hate me for it.”

“Baby, there’s
not
a lot I could mildly dislike you for, much less hate.”

“So…do you two sleep together all the time?”

He barked out a laugh. “Uh…no. We only sleep in the same bed when you’re between us. We have separate rooms here. We picked this place over a few others because there are two large master suites. We’re tight, but not
that
tight.”

“That makes sense.” I smiled, but averted my gaze to my lap anyway. After everything the three of us had already shared, being back with them in person…well, it made it all so real again. So intimate, in ways I’d never experienced with Gavin., who’d have been sputtering and flustered by a query like that. But Fletcher had reacted as if he’d almost expected it. “I definitely can appreciate having my own space too.”

“Good to know.”

“Really?” I looked back up. Relating to men like this was new territory for me. I kind of…liked it.

Fletcher smiled. Leaned over as if to kiss me but tugged up short, like a kid told it wasn’t time for dessert yet. Instead, he scooped up my hand, kissed the palm, and asserted, “Really.”

I bounced a little in place. “Well, there’s so much I don’t know about you. Or Drake, for that matter.”

“Well,
I’m
an open book. Ask away, sugar.”

I inhaled. Deeply. He’d offered…“Have you guys ever been in a serious relationship? Something long term?”

His posture hiked up, reflecting my seriousness. His respect for my thoughts and ideas, even when we’d simply been working together, always made me feel bolder, even more beautiful.

“Well,” he finally said, “that answer depends on how you define serious. Drake and I aren’t new to this, if that’s what you want to know. We balance each other in bed, just as we balance each other in life, and enjoy bringing pleasure to a woman that way.”

“But…how did you learn?” My curiosity was real. “You just sat down and had a conversation about it one night?”

He chuckled. “If it had been that simple…” Twined our hands a little tighter. “It was…natural evolution, I guess. We met when Drake got back from deployment. He started playing on my water polo team at the club and we really hit it off. We started hanging out in professional organizations too, and orchestrated a few business ventures together. To be corny, D’s like the yin to my yang. I can communicate things he can’t, and he takes action when I’d rather sit on my ass and coast.”

I nodded with probably a bit too much enthusiasm—but he spoke the complete truth. They were a matched set of different energies. Together, the combination was like concocting a perfect stick of dynamite.