Chapter 3 Blue-Eyed Devil #3
Me: I need your help.
Noreen: Good morning to you too, Finn.
Me: Good morning.
Noreen: Tell me you have good news and I’ll consider your request.
Me: I sign your paycheck, so this is more of an assignment than a request.
Noreen: Technically, no signatures are required with direct deposit.
Me: Semantics. Are you going to help or not?
Noreen: Depends. Did you get your girl back?
Noreen was a seventy-three-year-old firecracker who—after fifteen years of being my assistant—didn’t pull any punches. She was also a huge pain in my arse.
Me: I’m working on it. That’s why I need you to work your magic. She agreed to let me take her out tonight.
Noreen: How much time do I have?
Glancing at my watch, it was almost one.
Me: Six hours.
Waverly reluctantly agreed to let me pick her up at her house once some guy named Nelson ran a background check on me through the FBI database.
She’d also been very clear with her instructions to pick her up at seven sharp.
From the way she’d said it, combined with the slight tremor in her hands, no way would I be late.
Noreen: I’ll get back to you by four.
Me: You’re a lifesaver.
Noreen: You’re lucky I love you.
Me: Love you too.
Tossing my phone on the desk, I gulped down half the water before joining Joel in the online conference room. We spent the next thirty minutes going over the added security upgrades to our network. Eventually, our conversation shifted.
“There was another threat.” He rubbed a hand over his bald head.
“More pictures?”
“Not quite.” His hesitation didn’t bode well for me. “Someone spray painted ‘you’re next’ on the hood of your Lexus, then busted out all the windows.”
“Shit.” I’d left my car parked in the garage at my New York office. “Did the security cameras catch anything?”
“No. Unfortunately they went offline for about thirty minutes.”
“Wait—” I pursed my lips. “What else?”
Joel worked for me for the same length of time as Noreen. They were hired as a pair, since the two of them had been happily married long before I was born. Having known him for so long, I was astutely aware when he was holding back.
“It may be nothing, but,” he sighed, “the testing facility had to be evacuated yesterday. A fire broke out at the main lab. No one was hurt and nothing was seriously damaged, but the cleanup will set us back a week or so.”
“Accident or arson?”
“We won’t know until the fire marshal finishes his investigation.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Neither do I, which is why I think we should move the facility to an undisclosed location. I’d suggest shutting down further testing until we find the culprit, but that would be giving this fucker exactly what he wants.
In the meantime, Wes is on his way to you.
He’ll be your shadow until I can get there. ”
“When will he be here?”
Weston “Wes” Bishop joined the security team about five years ago. He was Joel’s right hand, which meant I trusted him implicitly.
“Within twenty-four hours. I’m also assigning a protective detail to your sister and the kids.”
“Are you gonna tell Sloane she’s got a tail?”
My sister was about as independent as they came. As a single mom, she had to be, but she was also as stubborn as the day was long.
“I’d like my balls to stay attached to my body, thank you very much.”
“So no, then,” I chuckled. “You better make sure whoever you put on her is damn good. I’ve got no problem throwing your arse under the bus, old man.”
“Just know that the bus runs both ways, kid.”
“I hear you. Let me know when we get the report from the Marshal. As far as relocating, that was already in the works. We’ll simply move up the time frame. I’ll ask Waverly if she has any connections she can pull in New York.”
I didn’t miss the smirk when he said, “Waverly, as in your FBI agent?”
“You’re almost as bad as your wife, you know that? And she’s not mine.”
Not yet. But she would be.
After instructing Joel to forward the pictures and whatever information he’d gathered during his investigation to the email address Waverly gave me earlier, I ended the call and began the next.
Between the overly lengthy meetings with the advertising, public relations, and new project development departments, the afternoon was gone in a flash.
At four on the dot, Noreen texted with a variety of options for dinner; however, one place stood out above the rest. It would either be a hit or I’d crash and burn spectacularly.
“Oh my God,” Waverly laughed, bending at the waist with her hands on her thighs. “I had no idea throwing an axe could be so exhilarating.”
She was going to get me killed. It had nothing to do with the sharp object she slung—near-expertly—over her head, hitting the target a few inches left of center, and everything to do with how incredible her ass filled out the skintight, black jeans she wore.
Already tonight, I’d had an intense stare down with three different arseholes who were checking her out.
Luckily, they’d taken the hint. Normally, I wasn’t a possessive guy, but when Waverly answered the door to her cozy little cottage, looking like a damn goddess, I knew I was in trouble.
My dick had been half-hard ever since. Going through baseball stats in my head eventually calmed me down enough so my state of arousal didn’t turn into a medical emergency.
“You sure you’ve never done this before?”
“Never.” She shook her head, returning to my side. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome, beautiful.” Leaning in, I spoke against her lips, “Just do me a favor and don’t gloat later after you wipe the floor with me.”
“I make no such promises.” The little minx winked.
Stepping up to the painted red line on the floor, I took aim, and released the axe with a grunt.
It was no wonder we had to sign a waiver of liability when we first got here; this shit was dangerous.
The deep thwunk when my axe struck its mark had a grin tugging at my lips.
It wasn’t dead center, but it also hadn’t bounced off onto the floor like my first two attempts.
Progress.
By the time we finished our time in the throwing stall, I’d come to two very important conclusions.
First, Waverly Mitchell was extremely competitive; as in my girl did not like to lose.
Second, I’d give away every last cent in my bank account just to hear her laugh.
Not only was it infectious, but from the look of genuine surprise on her face every time those sounds of delight passed her lips, she didn’t do it often enough.
She’d given it to me though, and it wasn’t something I took lightly.
Once our server placed the burgers we’d ordered on the table in front of us, Waverly brought up the elephant in the room.
“My team is pouring through everything your guy sent over. There’s not much, but we all agree. Going from pictures to graffiti and vandalism means whoever is behind the threats is escalating.”
“They may already have.” She took a bite of her burger, chewing slowly, while she waited for me to elaborate. “There was an…issue yesterday.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of issue?”
Joel hadn’t included anything about the fire in the files he sent, mainly because we had no proof it was anything other than an accident at that point. But from the way Waverly’s emerald eyes narrowed into slits as I explained, withholding that bit of information had been a mistake on my part.
“Joel wants extra security for myself and Sloane.” I told her.
“Are you opposed to it?”
“Not at all. Sloane and the kids will get the additional protection because if anything happened to them—” I sat my burger down on the plate, my appetite suddenly vanished. “It would destroy me.
She reached across the table, covering my hand with hers. “Don’t you think they feel the same about you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Under normal circumstances, I might agree, but you’re being targeted, Finn. There’s nothing normal about that.”
“I know.” Flipping my hand over, I laced our fingers together. Tonight was supposed to be about us, not the drama in my life, so I steered the conversation to a question which had plagued me for days. “Why did you leave the island early? What happened?”
Redness bloomed over Waverly’s milky skin; the color almost matching her fiery auburn hair. The blush peeked out from the V in her T-shirt—making me wonder how far down the color went—and spread up her slim neck, eventually stopping at her cheeks. She dipped her chin as she spoke.
“We had an expiration date.”
I was about to protest when she shifted nervously, dislodging our hands and lifting her eyes to mine. Sorrow oozed from their emerald depths, quieting anything I was about to say.
“At least that’s what I kept saying over and over in my mind,” she continued.
“I’d come back to Huntington, and you’d go off to wherever it was you were heading next.
It was supposed to be a bit of fun; no strings, no commitments, but I was lying to myself.
The truth is you scared me—or rather how quickly my feelings for you developed scared me.
When you suggested we reveal our last names, I panicked.
I’m not built for long-distance relationships, but I knew if you asked, I would’ve given you everything. ”
“I’m asking now, Waverly. Let’s see where this goes. I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”
There was a war raging behind her expressive eyes. Her indecision tore at my gut until she finally gave me the words I wanted to hear.
“I’ll try.”