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  Ryan grumbled to himself, not really knowing if any of his extrapolations were true or not. He wouldn’t know unless he actually went over and talked to the woman, asked her if she was seeing someone, what she did for a living, all that. And that wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t have room for distractions in his life. Certainly not one like her. She was a classy lady, one who required attention, gifts, and love. Not like the easy women he typically saw, who only required sex, and lots of it. No phone calls. No relationships. Perfect for him, really. Ryan was too busy focusing on his new job.

  His boss, Simon, was trying to make it work for him. After finding him working on pleasure boat engines at Lake Travis, Simon had offered him a partnership in a different sort of job, one Ryan had jumped at. He hated working with the rich people who boated on weekends and tourists who didn’t know how to use anything. And his boss had been a complete loon. He was of the opinion that structure was over-rated. He made fun of Ryan for coming in at the same time every day, being organized, and lecturing boaters on safety. Ryan was about to quit when Simon came in, working a case for the police department, and offered him a job in his security and private investigation firm.

  Ryan had quit the next day.

  He’d had issues at first, with finding things to do. The office manager, Miriam, helped him create a schedule for himself. Since then, he’d been better. In fact, she was the one who’d forced him to get out of the office at lunch time when he wasn’t on a job.

  The man playing with his kid stole his attention for a while. Ryan wanted kids someday, and would like to think that’s the kind of dad he would be—the kind who got down and dirty with his kids at the park. Not like the parents who were checking email while their kids played.

  He watched the lady pack up her thermos inside her insulated tote and used the opportunity to saunter over to the trash can next to her. Yeah, he had a trash can next to him, but he couldn’t resist the blush that rose to her cheeks when he winked at her.

  Keep Classy Lady at a distance. Too bad his dick didn’t agree.

  He didn’t have time for a woman like her, but that didn’t mean he was dead.

  Ryan’s heavy mix was blaring through the speakers, helping him tune out the ambient sounds of weights clanging and grunts in the air. The smell of sweat invaded his nose while he tried to clear his thoughts of last night’s failed attempts at getting some action. After watching the lady in the park, again, no one else sparked his interest. He had no idea what was going on. The women at the bar he’d been in had seriously banging bodies, but after buying a couple of them drinks, they opened their mouths, his interest had flagged, and he couldn’t bring himself to take them home. Had his interests changed that much?

  The truth was, he’d paid for a lot of sex while he was in the Coast Guard. Prostitutes were cheap and easy in the tiny little islands he visited on his tours, and they certainly took the edge off. But he hadn’t paid for sex of any kind since coming home. He didn’t really need to. But did he want the relationship stuff? Did he no longer want cheap or easy? The thought didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t have time for more with his new job. They were all trying to get this business off the ground, and he didn’t have room for distractions.

  A slamming noise jerked his attention to the door where Simon Pierce strode in, thunderclouds all over his face. He stormed over to the free weights, grabbed two, and headed over to the bench to start his bicep curls silently.

  “Good meeting, Sarge?”

  Ryan watched with satisfaction at the grimace marring his boss’s features. He knew Simon hated the moniker, but Ryan was ingrained to use it. Sometimes he called the man his preferred name, Pierce, but usually Sarge just slipped out.

  “We’re too expensive. Her words, not mine,” his boss grunted out.

  “Shit.” That came from Quinten Pierce in the corner at the bench press. Quinten was Simon’s brother, the tall, quiet one. Ryan had seen evidence he was freakishly smart, though. He had a penchant for fighting, too, entering underground fights occasionally. Ryan wanted to go watch one sometime.

  Miriam came in quietly, arms full of fresh towels. “Just bringing these in. Put your dirties in the hamper and I’ll take them home to wash tonight. I’m not picking them all up off the floor for you guys. You’re grown.” Miriam, a.k.a. Mom, was their age—late twenties or early thirties. She kept quiet about her past, which was fine. Everybody in the room knew she was going through a nasty divorce, not that she ever talked about it, though. They all wanted to kick her ex’s ass for her. She was a sweetheart who took care of each and every one of them and deserved better than some asshole who didn’t appreciate her.

  Ryan smirked at her as the made her way toward the door, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll go put on some fresh coffee for you guys. Then I’ll be dusting the copy machine.” She winked as she left.

  Evan, who spotted Quinten’s last set, whistled low, continuing on as if Miriam hadn’t walked in the door. “When are they going to realize we charge industry standard? They want to know if their beloved hubby is cheating? They have to pay for the knowledge. Especially if they want proof. And we’ve got to get some fucking work, give Miriam something to do besides dust shit and wash our damn clothes.”

  “I hate to say I’m getting desperate. I almost told her to name her price.” Simon’s voice was gravelly with anger. “We’ve only got operating expenses for three more months. After that, we’re fucked if we don’t get a decent job.”

  Ryan looked around at the other men in the room. They’d set up the gym in the office for multiple purposes, but the main one was to have a central location for meetings since they all seemed to focus better while they worked out. The weights cleared their minds, and allowed them all to focus. The fact this was the first place Simon came after his sucktacular client meeting was proof of that.

  The four of them—Simon, Quinten, Evan, and Ryan—had started Pierce Securities six months ago, and were having a hard time getting off the ground. Simon’s idea was solid, it was just a matter of getting the word out they were competent.

  Simon and Quinten Pierce were the brains behind the outfit. Ryan was muscle, an ex-Coast Guard veteran who wasn’t scared of anything and had the skills to track anyone. Evan was the Operations Specialist, i.e. Tech Dweeb. He did all the hacking and surveillance. Quinten was the strong, silent type, having a law degree he chose not to use for some reason. Ryan honestly didn’t know how many of their ideas had been due to his quiet ruminations.

  The four of them had pasts they preferred to leave in the past. Evan had an embarrassing media episode at the pinnacle of his technology career. Ryan couldn’t seem to fit in his civilian life after his two stints in the Coast Guard. Simon had something happen to him on the police force he didn’t like to talk about. Nobody really knew Quinten’s story. Somehow, though, they’d found each other and partnered up with the security idea. Together, they were a great team. Now for them to just let other people know so they could get some work and pay some bills.

  Quinten let out a growl as he did his last rep and landed the weights on the bar. Evan fist-bumped him and walked over to the bar for pull-ups while Quinten grabbed a towel.

  Swiping it under his arms, Quinten made one of his rare soapbox speeches. “We’re not charging too much. We’re worth it. If we charge less, we’ll get lumped in with the retired cops who do PI shit. No offense, Simon. We’re more than that, we’re securities specialists. That’s what we need to emphasize. If we start charging less, people will think we are less.” He threw the towel down. “We charge what we’re worth. If they can’t handle it, they find someone else. Period.”

  Simon nodded, continuing his curls. “I agree. All it’ll take is one fucking client. If you’ve got one of those in your pocket, I’d like to have them.”

  “I’ll go shower and then run back over the marketing plan.”

  Simon nodded silently as Quinten stalked out the door. Ryan watched the exchange.

&n
bsp; He was on the treadmill, mile seven, and decided to change the subject. “Anybody seen Zack around lately? He’s been pretty scarce.” Six months ago, Zack had been everywhere with them. Ryan thought he’d actually have a place in the firm with them, but that hadn’t happened. Still, he was usually here, working out with them.

  Evan looked over at him. “You didn’t hear? He’s going to have to quit the force. Put in his notice. He’s going blind, man.”

  “Blind?”

  The door slammed open again, and Ryan looked over. “Speak of the fucking devil.”

  Zack walked in and Ryan noticed for the first time ever, a slightly glazed look to his eyes. His head turned around the room and he saw the man get audible bearings on the guys.

  “I can hear better, though,” Zack grinned at them.

  Greetings in the form of grunts and gritty “heys” met him as he walked over to a large machine in the middle of the room.

  “How long?” Ryan couldn’t contain his shock. Zack was the picture of health. Always had been.

  “Almost a year. Some sort of genetic shit. It’s getting where I can’t see more than vague shapes though, beyond twenty feet or so. I won’t pass the annual physical. Might as well quit while I’m ahead, before they kick me off the force.” He squinted while he looked at the numbers and adjusted the weight before he started pulling on the handle.

  “That sucks, man. You can’t take some sort of cop disability shit? What are you going to do?”

  Zack’s eyes focused on Ryan in a creepy, ‘I see you but not really’ glare. Ryan wondered how long he’d been looking at him without noticing that. Now, it was all he could see. Zack snapped, “I’m not going on disability, fucktard.” He pulled a rep. “I’ve got some training next month in Dallas. They’re going to teach me ninja skills, Braille and shit.”

  Everyone was quiet. Zack seemed upbeat about it all, but they all knew it was a façade. In the gym, the guys were tough shit. No other way to be. They pushed themselves in here. They broke down in private. And there was no doubt in anyone’s mind Zack had already done that, or would soon enough. Ryan watched the gears turning in Simon’s head as he tossed down the free weights and walked over to the bench press.

  “Spot me, Zack?” This was Simon’s way of telling Zack they weren’t going to treat him any differently. It was also an example to the others to do the same. Ryan nodded to himself in acknowledgement.

  Zack stood behind Simon, watching the bar carefully. Finally, he broke the silence, “Anybody heard from Bonnie? I’d like to see her again while I still can.” Ryan watched Bonnie’s brothers’ responses with eager anticipation. Just because Zack was going blind didn’t mean Simon and Quinten wouldn’t kick his ass for messing with their kid sister.

  Simon growled low in his throat in response, to which Zack chuckled. Simon answered in a grunt, “She’s coming in a couple of months to move in with us. She’s transferring to State to finish. Something happened and I’m going to get to the bottom of it as soon as she gets her ass here.”

  Evan had dropped from his pull-ups and moved on to his next station, sighing heavily, while Ryan finished up his ten miles in silence. Finally, he grabbed his towel from the handlebars.

  “What’s up your ass, Evan?”

  “Just a chick, I guess. Can’t get her out of my head.”

  Simon grunted before dropping his weights on the stand in front of Zack. “Keep your head in the game,” he snarled.

  “What fucking game? We don’t have a fucking job. Besides, she was just some woman. I’m pretty sure she gave me a fake name weeks ago. I’ll never see her again. I just can’t get her off my mind.”

  Zack grinned, “Good ass?” Evan didn’t respond, only sighed again. Ryan couldn’t take anymore. The classy lady’s face kept popping up in his mind, phone to her ear, head thrown back in laughter. Maybe he could figure out where she worked.

  “I’m gonna shower and pound the pavement, Sarge.”

  “Get us some business,” Simon grunted between his reps. With a backward wave, Ryan was out the door. Too fucking depressing in there.

  Krista was bone-tired. She’d put in another fourteen-hour day, as was typical this time of year. Quarterly reports were due for Lowe Financials’ clients, and it was her job to prepare them. She’d been staring at columns of numbers on her computer screen for three days, breaking only when someone interrupted her. Oh, and when Eye Candy from the park walked in today. Like every other female in the office, she’d noticed when the outrageously good looking guy had walked in, straight off of the cover of Men’s Health. Because he was by far the healthiest man she’d ever seen. T-shirt stretched tight over bulging biceps and six-pack abs. Holy shit, she’d drooled right along with everyone else in the office as he’d strolled past, looking for the boss man. It had taken a few minutes to recover from the smell he’d left in his wake. Way better than trying to ogle him surreptitiously from across a playground full of children.

  But at least the reports were finally right, ready for the public, and she could meet Jenna for drinks and dancing.

  While the document printed, she rubbed her eyes and pulled her purse out of the drawer. Shooting off a quick text to her friend, telling her she was finally on her way, Krista looked at the pages coming out of the printer. She’d drop the report off by Mr. Lowe’s office on her way out the door. Krista didn’t think he’d still be here; she’d seen the entire office go quiet and dark over the last three hours. Really, all she wanted was a glass of wine and a hot bath, and sleep for the next three days, but she’d promised Jenna she’d meet her after she finished.

  When her phone dinged Jenna’s response, Krista smiled at her friend’s reply.

  About time, bitch. We’re sooo getting you laid tonight. You work too damn hard.

  Krista had met Jenna in college at University of Texas in their finance program. When they’d graduated, Jenna had gotten a cushy bank manager job, while Krista worked in the trenches of Mr. Lowe’s investment company, crunching numbers.

  LOL. Thirty minutes.

  Grabbing the papers off the printer, she made her way through the darkened maze of cubicles to the edge of the office area. A sliver of light under Mr. Lowe’s door, as well as the hushed murmurs, told her Mr. Lowe was in his office with someone.

  It was odd but not unheard of. This time of the fiscal year, Lowe Financials was busy, and most everybody put in late nights, even the boss.

  Two male voices slipped into her consciousness and she knocked before letting herself in.

  “Mr. Lowe, I have the quarterly—” All sound stopped as she entered the office and bit off her choked words. She wasn’t sure she could speak anyway. The sight in front of her spoke volumes.

  Shock tightened every muscle in her body as she froze and took in the scene. Mr. Lowe was standing over a naked boy on his desk. He wore a mask over his face, and was… touching the boy.

  “Mr. Lowe?” Krista blinked, unsure of what she was seeing. As her gaze focused on the boy, she saw his body was limp and he had tear tracks on his face. “What are you doing?”

  It was obvious what he was doing and nausea roiled in her gut. Her boss was having an afterhours party. Her eyes scanned the room, remembering she’d heard another voice.

  A man in a tailored suit stood in the corner next to a camera on a tripod, facing the wall.

  “Ed,” his voice held a warning growl, causing her eyes to snap back to her boss, who still wore a mask and hovered over the boy.

  “Krista, you shouldn’t be here.” His voice sounded regretful, and the reality of what she’d walked into struck her. When her boss took the ski mask off his face, it was lined with remorse. She wasn’t sure if it was remorse for getting caught, or for doing it in the first place, but she knew one thing. She had to get this boy out of here.

  Straightening her shoulders, she marched over to the desk and dropped the papers she’d been clutching in her hand. She scooped the boy into her arms and turned to see her boss blocking her
path.

  “You can’t leave now.” He had a frown on his face, but it didn’t look like he was angry with her.

  “Dammit, Ed. You said everyone was gone.” The other man was behind her now, and fear propelled her to move. She brushed past Ed Lowe, the owner of Lowe Financials, Executive by day, Pedophile by night. He reached for her arm, but she managed to twist out of his grasp without dropping the boy who had reached for her shoulders and was clinging to her, curled up in her arms.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me, you asshole,” she muttered as she walked out of the office. Krista could hear steps at her heels, and when she got out the door, her feet broke into a run down the hallway.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” she murmured into the boy’s hair, feeling him nod in response. A part of Krista didn’t want to know what they were doing, but at the same time she had to know. She knew she would as soon as she got him away from them. Frantically pushing the button to call the elevator, Krista cursed the fact she couldn’t carry the boy down the stairs. She didn’t think she could outrun the men. When the elevator opened immediately, she jumped in, frantically pressing the button to close the door.

  She could see the two men—her boss and the one who kept his face hidden—as they came huffing and puffing down the hallway toward her. “You can’t run away!” Mr. Lowe huffed at her. “I’ll find Tate!” Ice ran in Krista’s veins at the words. They might have made a difference earlier, but the trembling little boy she’d bundled in her arms committed her fully.

  She let out a shrill scream as Mr. Lowe shoved his hand into the gap between the elevator doors, but was too late. He released them with a muffled curse.