ROMANCE: MAIL ORDER BRIDE: The Other Man’s Baby (A Clean Christian Historical Western) (New Adult Inspirational Pregnancy Romance) (27 page)

“Oh my Lord, check out the fine new girl in the front office.”

Damien glanced back over Mac’s shoulder and came to a stop in the middle of the lobby. What the heck? Why hadn’t anyone told him?

Asia Ferrell stood just a few feet away from him talking with Karen, the front desk receptionist.  He’d seen Franklin just last week before his wedding, and he’d said nothing. Asia Ferrell back in Spring Valley, back at GSW after seven long years. Somehow feeling his stare, Asia stopped talking midsentence and glanced his way. She looked as stunned as he felt before she narrowed her eyes, lifted her chin, and turned pointedly away from him. Same old princess.

“She’s not new,” he said. She’s old, but damn, did she
look
brand new. Last time he’d seen her, her hair was straight and long and everything about her had been overdone including the man she was with. His hands fisted just thinking of Peter Matthews, the boss’s son in law.

Now, her hair fell around her shoulders in long curls, the ones he remembered from when they were kids, the ones he remembered pulling on when they were no longer kids. His body tightened. She was dressed in a short black skirt with black tights and high heeled black boots—he loved her in boots. Why was she back now?

He turned away and started walking toward the warehouse in silence, thinking “What was that stupid Humphrey Bogart line?... Of all the gin joints in the world and she had to walk into mine.” Only GSW wasn’t a gin joint, and this wasn’t World War II. He gritted his teeth. But something violent could take place soon if he didn’t get to the bottom of the weapons that were somehow slipping through his warehouse and finding their way into the streets. How was he going to prevent any more bloodshed, make the bad guys pay, and keep Asia safe all at the same time? He needed a beer, and it wasn’t even 9 a.m.

As he typed in the code that opened the warehouse security door, he realized Mac was watching him closely. “What?”

“She’s the one isn’t she?”

The one? Damien was silent. Mac was his best friend at work, his second in command, a big beefy Hispanic dude who loved his family as much as Damien loved his. Now he’d played his hand. Truth or Dare. He studied Mac and weighed the cost of telling him the truth. There wasn’t one he could discern.

“She’s the one,” he agreed. He and Mac had this thing they agreed on: there was one perfect girl out there for each of them, the girl who had ruined them for every other girl. Asia was his, and she had definitely ruined him when she left.

He could have denied it, but he figured it was written all over his face when he looked at her. Unfortunately for him, Asia had captured his heart before they’d even hit the fifth grade. Everyone had known he was the scrawny white kid pining for the spunky black girl. He wasn’t as skinny now, but he was sure, she was just as deliciously spunky.

Everyone else in the front office had left two hours ago, but Asia was still working. It had taken her nearly two hours to clean out the filthy little gray cubicle Peter had assigned her. Another two hours were wasted getting her computer and password to work—more compliments of Peter she was sure.

Now she studied the numbers, one perfect row after the next. What had her father seen that she was missing? Everything was balanced, not too much profit and zero debt, exactly what she wanted to see as an accountant. A bit more profit would be nice, but these numbers would work well when they filed taxes at the end of the fiscal year.

She stretched her arms above her head and rolled her neck in a circle to ease its stiffness. She was done. Fulfilled her promise to her dad faster than she had expected. There were no inconsistencies. Soon she could put in her notice and continue on with her life.

“Just look for me, Asia. Below the surface.”
Her father’s voice seemed to whisper in her ear. 

Below the surface. Okay.  She leaned forward again. Thirty minutes later she frowned. The numbers were maybe a little too perfect. Everything added up too well, each month within pennies of the previous month. Every season, GSW’s numbers added up mostly the same, no big differences between winter when more winter merchandise was ordered and summer when different items would be ordered. Hmm. What were the chances? And where could she find out more about the ordering?

General Supply Warehouse was a huge company with facilities across the states, in Germany and now in China, but Spring Valley was the original location with one of the largest warehouses of any company on the east coast. Their supplies were ordered by the U.S. government, private companies, large and small, as well as the military. Perfect balance sheets at one location, month after month were nearly impossible.

Who had taken over Damien’s father’s job of warehouse supervisor when he retired last year? More research. Five minutes later, she closed her eyes. Of course.  Damien freakin’ Grimaldi had. Damien, the first boy she ever loved had. Damien was the only man she had never forgotten, the one she measured every other man against. She’d seen him just that morning in the lobby, looking better than ever. If Peter had controlled her mind years ago, Damien had controlled everything else.

If she wanted to get out of this job sooner rather than later, she would need to ask Damien some questions. Not during work hours though. She stepped out of the building and headed toward the parking lot, but caught sight of something she didn’t think she would ever see again: Damien’s Harley. It could only be his. She had spent lots of hours with her arms wrapped around Damien, straddling the Harley as they roared into the mountains.

It was after hours; maybe she could talk to him tonight after all. Back in the building, she pushed the intercom for the warehouse. His voice responded. “Yes?”

“Hey, Damien. It’s Asia. Let me back.”

Silence. “Why, Princess?”

Argh. He still hated her. “Never mind.” She had turned around to leave when the buzzer sounded unlocking the door. Put up, she commanded herself. Get it over with.

She walked into the warehouse, her boots echoing in the silence. God, how much time had she spent in here? When they were teenagers, both she and Damien had worked during the summer inventory weeks, counting nails, pencils, pens, staples.  They’d even snuck away to make out in the closet where the empty boxes were kept.

Nothing in here had changed. Dark, musty smelling, rows and rows of shelves that held everything from screws to staplers to snow blowers. Forklifts lined one wall. Pallets with shrink-wrapped boxes lined another.

“What do you want?” Damien sat on a stool in front of one of the computers, a gray button down shirt rolled up to his elbows, jeans stretched across his thighs,  arms crossed over his chest. His hard blue-eyed glare was enough to make her want to turn around, forget the books, and leave.

He nodded toward the shelves. “Here to help? Want to count some inventory?” He stood and walked toward her, his stance assertive, territorial. “We had some fun inventorying, didn’t we, Asia?” He moved his hips subtly and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. How old was he?

“What?  Don’t like a reminder of how you used to slum it?”

She opened her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t slumming. Both our dads worked in here then. Our moms, too.” Before her mom had died. Before her dad had left her with her aunts and gone back to school.

“But it wasn’t good enough for you, was it, princess? They were never good enough.” He pushed his thumb in the direction of the front office. “You always wanted to be front office staff.”

“Shut up.” He was right though; that’s one of the reasons she had ended up with Peter.

He stopped, shrugged. “Whatever. What do you want, Asia? Why are you even here? Your dad put in his notice; I thought you wouldn’t be far behind.”

Not here. Her instinct told her this was the wrong place and the wrong time. She lowered her voice. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Could we meet later? Maybe grab a coffee somewhere?” With her eyes, she tried to tell him it was a secret, that this conversation needed to stay between them. Please let him remember that look.

He opened his mouth, probably about to fight with her, but narrowed his eyes instead. “I’m living at home, over the garage. Come over around eight; go see my mom and Abby first.” He said the words like those were his terms for agreeing to meet and agreeing to keep it quiet. She studied him. He knew something.

“Sure. I wanted to see them anyway,” She bluffed. “It’s been a long time.”

He shut down the computer, grabbed his leather jacket from the long row of hooks by the door. “Too long, princess. Too long.” He clicked off the lights and walked through the doors without looking back.

God, he was impossible. She followed him quickly, stumbling over her own feet in the dark.

Asia parked her car in front of the Grimaldi family split level. Damien’s father had been the first of any of the warehouse workers she knew of to move his family into the suburbs. How he saved the money to move, no one knew.

God, she had loved spending time at this house back when her family was still intact. Her mom had been best friends with Mrs. Grimaldi. White and black meant nothing to the two women who had bonded over order taking at the warehouse, scrapbooking, and knitting.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. After her mom had died in a pileup on the interstate, she couldn’t bring herself to come back. Her father had fallen apart and sent her to live with his sisters.  They had barely known her. She’d turned her back on Damien, his sister, and his mom. She hadn’t wanted to feel anything after losing her mom.

Climbing out of the car, she realized she didn’t have the courage to put up or shut up on this one. Avoidance was best. She walked around to the back of the house and up the steps that led to the garage apartment. 

Damien opened the door on her first knock. He was dressed in a black T-shirt and faded jeans, his hair wet and hanging around his ears from a shower. He looked too good.

“What do you want, Asia?”

His irritated tone snapped her back to her senses. What did she want? Put up. “Your help.” She waved the blue folder she had brought from work, and pushed past him into his apartment. After all these years, why was he living at home and still working at GSW? He had never seemed the type.

“You live at home?”

He shrugged. “Did you stop by and see my mom? Abby?”

She bit her lip, then released it. ”I came straight here. I needed to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Unh unh. The deal was you stop at the house first.” He pointed his thumb toward the door. “Go.”

“What the heck, Damien? Quit bossing me around. You have no right.”

He walked right up to her. His chest touched hers. His scent assaulted all the right places in her nose. She couldn’t breathe normally, and it took every bit of strength not to push back and kiss him. Why did he have to be just as hot as he’d always been? He made her think of darkened dance floors and sweaty slow dances.

She shoved him hard. He stumbled back which surprised her. Had she caught him off guard?

“Get out of my space, Damien. I am not some little trophy girl, a notch in your bedpost.”

His face which had been open in surprise, hardened. He reached out and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb.  She shivered. “You forget, princess, you were the first girl I ever loved. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.” He smiled when she balled her fists. “Easy, Asia.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her toward the door.

“Go on. Ma won’t bite you. It’s time you saw her. Now Abby on the other hand. She might not be so nice.”

Abby. She’d dumped her best friend when she’d dumped the rest of Damien’s family, right after life as she’d known it came to a grinding halt and her aunts had taken over. End of story. She’d been a teenager. What else could she have done?

She turned the doorknob, opened the door. Damien put his hand on her hip. “Hold up. I’m coming with you.”

“Like I care,” she muttered. But she did. She relaxed against the doorjamb and waited while he pulled on a pair of shoes.

“I can’t believe I have to do this. It’s going to be hard.”

“That’s right. It should be. Nothing worth having is easy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, grandpa.”

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

Asia flopped down on Damien’s sofa. He kicked off his shoes, then folded his arms across his chest. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Asia looked up. Her eyes still glistened from the tears she and his mom had shed during their visit. She shrugged and wiped her face again. “It wasn’t easy.”

He tried to feel some sympathy for her, but couldn’t manage it. No one had made her abandon his family. No one had made her break his mom’s heart. He was sorry her mom had died—she’d been a nice lady and a great mother-- but what did that have to do with him or the rest of the Grimaldi family?  “Your choice,“ he said. “At least Abby wasn’t home.” Abby was going to rip a Asia a new one once they met up.

Asia’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe she has twins. Oh my God, they’re so cute. They look  a lot like the two of you did when we were little.”

He smiled, picturing his niece and nephew. “They’re pretty awesome. Cooler than Abby and I were, definitely cooler than Abby was.” He winked, then flopped down in the recliner across from the sofa. “Okay, girl. What do you want?”

Abby opened the folder and handed him two pieces of paper. He glanced down the rows of numbers. “What?”

“Before Dad left for his honeymoon, he asked me to look over the books. He said there were some discrepancies—“

“And you found some?” He frowned as he studied the numbers. He didn’t see anything wrong. “They look fine.”

She leaned forward. “That’s the thing, too fine. Too perfect.”

As Asia explained what she had found, he dropped the pages into his lap and leaned back. He’d been searching for nearly two months for some kind of proof that something was wrong at the warehouse, but had come up with nothing. Now, it looked like Asia had some.

“Earth to Damien. What’s going on?”

Truth or Dare? Time for truth. He sat up, reaching in his back pocket for his phone. He scrolled through his messages until he found the picture. He turned it over and handed it to Asia.

Her mouth fell open and she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Are you kidding me? Weapons at GSW? No, I don’t believe it.” She handed the phone back. “Where did you get that?” The picture showed an open GSW box with weapon parts nestled inside, surrounded by shredded paper.

He shrugged. “I didn’t believe it either.” Time to come clean. “I’m part of Adrian’s Riders.” He said it firmly, unapologetically. “We hear things.”

“Adrian’s Riders.” He knew she would have heard of them. “The bike club? But they’re a terrorist group.” Her voice dropped at the last as though it was a secret. His lips twitched.

Then her shock eased and her shoulders went back. Lecture time.

“Damien, we’re not kids anymore. We’re nearly thirty freakin’ years old. It’s not okay to play around, be a part of a nasty group like that. God, look at us, we grew up together, had secret make out sessions. Adrian’s Riders kills chicks like me.”

He laughed then.

She stood up and kicked his foot. Hard. “Stop it. This is serious to me. My sisters and brothers are serious to me.”

“Oh shut up, Asia. For once, just let me talk. Sit down.” He got up and pushed her back on the sofa, then squatted in front of her. “We’re not a terrorist organization and we don’t kill black people. Hell, we try not to kill anyone.”

“Try?” Her voice squeaked.

“Yes, “he said patiently. “Try. We’re trained to kill if we have to. That story that came out of Baltimore last month? Our boy only shot that black dude because he was armed and dangerous and had just raped two women. Sisters, “He mocked gently. “It was the only way to keep everyone else safe. A rapist didn’t deserve a gentler method.”

“We work for the government. “ He put his hands out.”The CIA recruited the club back in the 80s. Hell, my father was one of the earliest members in our area. “He gestured around him. “That’s how he could afford this house. And the original Adrian? He was CIA. My dad would still be out there if he could. There are bad people on the streets, and we help put a stop to some of the violence.” He lowered his chin. “I wish I could tell you more, but we have to keep things secret to keep our men and women safe.”

Her head jerked up. “There are women, too?”

He smiled. “Yes. Tough, beautiful, strong women. “He put his hands down and grasped hers, pulling her to her feet. “Like you. Very much like you.”

She pushed against his chest. “Shut up. You don’t believe that. You’ve always thought I was weak, that I needed to be protected.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you crazy? Next to Ma and Abby, you’re the least weak female I’ve ever known.”

“Then why have I been tripping over you my entire life while you try to save me?”

Truth or dare? He looked into her angry beautiful face and knew she wasn’t ready for the truth. Dare. Did he dare kiss her? Yes.

“Because of this,” He muttered right before he grasped her face in his hands and brought his lips down to hers. “It’s been too long.”

She pushed him away. “Get off me. How dare you do that?” Her fingers touched her mouth, the anger in her words not matching the passion in her eyes.

“Sorry.” He said and shrugged. “You always do that to me.”

“What? Turn you into a jerk?”

He laughed. “Princess, I’ve always been a jerk. For a long time, you didn’t mind. No, you turn me into one big out of control bumbling fool.”

Asia cleared her throat. “So what’s this all about? How are weapons getting into GSW?”

He scrubbed his hand over his hair. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? You manage that entire warehouse.  You have it in your power to open every box as it gets delivered.”

He threw up his hands. “You think I don’t? Ever since I saw that damn photograph, I have busted my ass opening boxes, looking like a freakin’ Nazi to my team.”

“And?”

“Nothing! Not one thing in those boxes besides what’s on the orders.”

“Maybe someone is just reusing the GSW boxes?”

“I’ve thought of that, and I was actually leaning toward that theory, until...” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

“Until I showed up here tonight looking for something that doesn’t seem to exist.  Yet somehow it does. Numbers that perfect are usually dirty.” She thought for a minute. “Are you checking the boxes leaving the warehouse?”

“Can’t. Would be impossible to check them all. It would slow us down to the point where all attention would fall on us in the warehouse. Not exactly what I’m looking for, princess.”

“No, I guess not. If the guns aren’t coming in with the shipments, how are they getting in?”

“That’s what you and I have to figure out.”