Chapter 2
DEVON
“Do you think Brecken would let me borrow Devon or Whit and one of the planes?”
My attention shifted away from the report I was working on when I heard Hadley, my boss’s wife, mention my name.
I’d hung out with her and their toddler, Quinten, and baby girl, Ashley, in the reception area when I came back from lunch.
But then Sera had come in and distracted Hadley with her hugely rounded belly.
We didn’t see the female operative around here much after her football star hubby had knocked her up with twins.
It had been an adjustment since we’d worked together for so long, but I was thrilled she was building the family she craved with a husband who was crazy about her.
The group must’ve wandered into Sera’s office, which was next door to mine, because I didn’t have to strain to hear her reply. “We both know that your husband would give you anything you ask for, but why do you need a pilot and a plane?”
That was an excellent question. There was no way in hell Brecken would let his adored wife—who’d just given birth to Ashley three months ago—jet off somewhere without him.
In the years since he’d come to Hadley’s rescue in a South American rainforest, Brecken had kept her close.
With his security company growing by leaps and bounds, he took on more administrative shit while the rest of us handled the cases that involved travel.
“Here, let me borrow your computer so you can see it better.” There was about a minute of silence before the sound of a news segment began to play.
I only half listened as the woman talked about an aunt who was desperate to make it to her nephew’s birthday party after the airline cancelled her flight.
I shook my head and grinned because it was too easy to picture soft-hearted Hadley falling for a sob story and wanting to rush to the rescue, especially when a child was involved.
Then the newsperson started to interview another woman, and my smile wiped from my face.
Jumping out of my chair, I stormed around my desk, through my door, and into Sera’s office.
“What in the he”—I stopped before I swore in front of Quinten, who was just old enough to start repeating all the shit he heard—“ck are you watching?”
Hadley clapped her hands together and bounced on her feet.
“It’s the sweetest thing ever. This woman put up a post on a bidding website for someone to be her sister’s knight in shining armor.
She needs to get to Portland by tomorrow afternoon, but her flight was cancelled.
Buying a new ticket is too expensive, and nothing else will get her there in time. ”
I glared at the computer screen. “Why is her son’s birthday party so important that she’d risk all the fu—reaks that are bound to set their sights on her sister over a stunt like this?”
“I don’t think I can tell the story without bawling.” Hadley fast-forwarded thirty seconds ahead and pressed play.
“Harry was five when he was diagnosed with severe aplastic anemia.” The woman on the video paused to take a deep breath.
Although I was anxious to hear the rest, I didn’t blame her.
Talking about her son’s illness had to be hard as fuck.
“The only cure is chemotherapy followed by a stem cell transplant. The best chance for a bone marrow match is from siblings, but Harry is our only child. My husband and I were half-matched, and we had planned to move forward with Jeff as the donor because time was running out. But then my sister insisted on being tested, too.”
Tears filled the woman’s eyes, and the reporter handed her a tissue.
She dabbed at her cheeks and continued, “Mel was in her first semester of her senior year of college when Harry was diagnosed. She dropped out and moved into the house to help take care of him. The doctors had already learned how stubborn she could be when it came to making sure he was getting the best care possible. It was obvious they were just humoring her when they agreed to the testing. The chances of an aunt being a sufficiently matched relative are so rare; it just shouldn’t have been possible.
But apparently, her being my half sister paid off big time because she somehow had HLA genes in common with both my husband and me.
It was something like a one in a million chance, but Mel was a closer match than either of us. ”
“The bone marrow transplant was a success?” the reporter asked with a soft smile.
“Yes.” The woman beamed a huge smile at the camera. “We still have to closely monitor Harry’s health, but he came through the process with flying colors.”
The reporter returned her smile. “Why is this birthday extra special for Harry?”
“He was in the hospital undergoing chemo when he turned six, so we’re going all out this year to help make up for it,” the mom explained.
“It’s more for us than him, I think. The only thing Harry asked for this year was a visit from his aunt Mel.
He’s going to be crushed when he finds out she can’t make it here in time for his party. ”
A listing from a popular auction website came up on the screen as the reporter continued talking in the background.
It matched what I’d heard them talking about earlier, so the details didn’t come as a surprise.
But the picture of the woman who’d saved the boy’s life got a hell of a reaction from me.
With her long, dark hair, pale green eyes, and plump lips, she was gorgeous as fuck.
Her looks meant the auction was definitely going to draw attention from the wrong crowd.
“Motherfuuuu—” I bit out as I stalked away. Brecken was still in his meeting, but that didn’t stop me from poking my head into his office. “Something urgent came up. I need to use the Gulfstream this weekend.”
My boss gave me a curt nod, and as I shut the door, I heard the potential client ask, “You have a private jet?”
We had three, which was sure to impress the head of a local art museum, who was considering hiring us to overhaul their security system.
I asked for the G100 so we wouldn’t need to stop to refuel along the way.
With our transportation nailed down, I headed back into my office and slammed the door shut.
Then I pulled the damn auction site up and created an account.
For the next four hours, I barely got any work done because I ended up in a bidding war with some asshole who was determined to beat me out on the opportunity to be the stunning brunette’s knight in shining armor.
There was no fucking way I was going to let that happen, though.
When the auction closed that evening, I was the winner.
Less than five minutes later, I got an email from the woman who’d done the interview, asking for my full name and phone number.
Figuring that she was going to use the information to check me out before she gave me any of her sister’s information, I felt a little better about the whole stunt.
When my cell rang with a number from an unfamiliar area code an hour later as I walked into my condo, I answered in case it was related to the auction. “Hello.”
“Is this Devon Miller?”
The voice was feminine and familiar, so I assumed it was the woman who’d been interviewed. “Yup.”
“Hi, this is Oriana Bisset. You won an auction I set up…” Her voice trailed off, and I heard a masculine rumble in the background before she giggled. “You know, the one where I basically sold my sister to you.”
“After watching your interview, I get why you went that route.” I knew it wasn’t my place to take this woman to task for what she’d done, but the unexpected protective streak I felt for a stranger overcame my sense of courtesy. “It was a risky move, putting your sister out there like that, though.”
Judging by her soft laugh, my criticism didn’t seem to bother Oriana. “Maybe, but it worked.”
“I could be a serial killer for all you know,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“You and Mel should get along great,” she snorted.
I didn’t understand why she thought so, but I hoped she was right. “How come?”
“Because she was complaining that you could be a serial killer when I told her about all the people on social media who think this is the best real-life meet-cute ever.”
I walked over to my kitchen table and flipped open my laptop to search online.
The interview had been shared a fuck ton since I’d seen it, and the story had gone viral.
Everyone and their brother seemed to want more details about the knight in shining armor who’d paid for the right to save the damsel in distress.
It was a good thing we kept the planes at a private airport because the last thing I wanted was some nosy reporter splashing pictures of Mel and me all over the place.