Chapter 14
HARLOW
I walked the couple of blocks to Cass' building. The doorman let me pass and make my way up to Cass' apartment. I was about to knock on the door, when it swung inward.
He stood with his hand on the knob, smiling at me. "Hey. Sorry, I saw you through the peephole." He jerked his head toward it.
"Were you standing there watching?" I teased as I stepped inside.
"I choose not to answer on the grounds I might incriminate myself," he said. He closed and locked the door behind me. "Dinner is almost ready."
"It smells delicious," I said sincerely. The apartment was filled with the smell of garlic and spices.
"One of the few things I know how to cook are tacos," he said apologetically. "I was hoping you didn't mind something so basic."
"I love tacos," I said. "If my restaurant wasn't Italian, it would have been Mexican."
"My two favorite cuisines," Cass said. He stepped over to the stove to stir the sauce that was bubbling away there. "And Chinese."
"Mine too," I said. "With a bit of Spanish and a lot of French thrown in for good measure."
"Talking about food like this is making me hungry." He opened a box of taco shells, and the plastic wrap around them as well. He jerked his head to flick his hair out of his eyes. "Would you like something to drink? I have beer, or soda. Or milkshakes."
A milkshake maker had pride of place on his counter.
"Beer sounds perfect," I said. "Thank you."
He opened the fridge, took out two beers and a bowl of what looked to be home-made guacamole. He set the bowl on the counter and handed me a beer.
"My mother's recipe. She refused to let me leave home without being able to make it." After a beat he added, "I refused to leave home until I knew how. I could sit down and eat an entire bowl of it."
I twisted the lid off my beer and tossed it into the trashcan beside the counter.
"Guacamole is a basic life skill, if you ask me. It's like knowing how to boil an egg."
"Or make coffee." He took a sip of beer before placing the bottle down and turning the heat off from under the chicken. Leaving it to cool for a few moments, he pulled out sliced tomato, more avocado, shredded lettuce and cheese.
"You've been busy," I said as he laid out everything so we could fill our own tacos.
"I'm sure you slice prettier than I do." He pulled a couple of plates out from the cabinet and handed one to me.
"At work, my knife skills have to be meticulous." Both at the restaurant and when dispatching predators. "At home, I'm a little bit rougher. Between you and me, it tastes about the same."
Not exactly the same. There was a reason for the uniformity in a professional kitchen. At home, I was never so fancy that I was going to police his vegetable and fruit-cutting skills.
I loaded up my taco with everything and sat down at the small table beside the kitchen.
"This is really good," I said after swallowing my first bite. "If you ever decide to stop working in IT, you can come work for me."
Pink crept up his cheeks. "I'm sure it's not that good."
"It's excellent," I assured him. "One of the best tacos I've ever had. And I don't go around saying that about any old taco."
"You should try my enchiladas some time," he said. His eyes widened when he realized that could be construed as an innuendo.
I laughed softly. "I'm sure your enchiladas are delicious."
I was drawn to him, I couldn't deny that, and not just for his enchilada, or because he might be able to help me to give my sister justice.
There was something about this guy that made me want to be around him.
Like a moth to flame, perhaps. Although, in this case, I was the flame and he was the one who might get burnt to a crisp.
His face was redder now. "Would it be wrong if I said I wanted to taste your burrito?"
I couldn't stop myself from smiling, both at the euphemism and the expression on his face. Like he couldn't quite believe he said that.
"Thank you for not calling it a fish taco," I said dryly. "But, no, it's not wrong to say that. I'm a big fan of asking for things you want. If you don't, then how do other people know what's on your mind?"
I cocked my head at him before taking another bite of taco.
"You're not like anyone else I've ever met," he blurted out. He pushed his glasses back up his nose with the back of his hand.
"I could say the same about you," I said. "In fact, I would say the same. It's refreshing to meet someone who isn't all about himself, you know?"
"I know what you mean," he said. "Most of the women I've met are all about themselves. Men too. They care more about the likes and follows, even when they're not online. They're out to impress everyone. I just… Want to be myself."
"Me too," I agreed. "Tell me more about yourself. I know you work in IT. Have you ever hacked into anything?" I kept my tone light, like I was joking, but my heart was racing.
Surely he'd see right through me and hate that I was trying to use him? I hated myself for it. I would have liked nothing more than to explain exactly why I asked.
I couldn't. Doing that would drag him into something he didn't deserve. Something that might destroy him. I wasn't going to be the one to do that.
He laughed. "It's part of my job to know all the tricks of hacking into other people's systems. That's how we prevent people from hacking us. In theory, anyway."
"You don't put those skills to use outside work?" I asked. "I don't think I'd be able to help myself. Imagine how many secret sauces I could discover."
He looked confused. "You don't need to find out someone's secret sauce."
"No, you're right," I conceded. "But I could keep people from hacking my restaurant computer and discovering all my secrets."
"You have a problem with people doing that?" Now he looked annoyed on my behalf.
I decided to take the opportunity he offered.
"All the time. The competition is always trying to get a step ahead of me.
A few times, I've had to change my recipe because they've found out what I was using.
As soon as they spread it around, no pun intended, I have to switch my game up.
" That was all true. The restaurant industry was cutthroat sometimes.
"That sucks." He got up to make himself another taco before sitting back down. "Is there anyone in particular who's doing this to you?"
Feeling like garbage for continuing to lie to him I said, "There is. Granger Fairfield."
Cass frowned. "The jewelry mogul?"
I cursed myself. I should have realized there was a chance he'd heard of Fairfield. Hell, for all I knew, he worked for him.
"He has his fingers in a lot of pies," I hedged. That was true for lots of men like Fairfield. No doubt it was one hundred percent correct. People like him loved to dabble in restaurants and hotels. Anything that might make them more money.
"Okay," Cass said slowly. "Will you let me take a look at your computer? I can see if anyone's gotten in there and put some things in place so they can't do it again."
"Will it involve hacking into his systems?" I asked, trying not to hold my breath while I waited for his response.
"It'll involve following the trail," Cass said. "That depends how far back it goes. And…if he didn't leave a trail, I might have to go in and look at what he's been looking at. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Not at all," I said little too quickly.
"I don't like people fucking with my business.
It's my livelihood and that of the people who work for me.
" Never mind that I used to have as much money as people like Fairfield.
The restaurant wasn't in danger of going under, but I still didn't want anyone fucking with it.
"Consider it done," he said. As if there was nothing more to it than that. Even I knew it'd take him hours to do what he suggested. If not days.
Assuming it was even possible. He'd have to be good to get past Fairfield's security. I had a feeling I hadn't guessed incorrectly. Cass could do this. It would just take time.
"Thank you. I appreciate you." I handed him my plate when he started to pack up everything after we'd finished eating.
"Of course." He dumped all the dishes in the sink and turned around to lean against the counter.
"I'm not sure there's anything I wouldn't do for you, Harlow.
" His eyes were darker, his gaze drifting up and down my body before settling on my face.
It gave the impression he was memorizing every inch of me.
I hated myself even more. I knew that about him and I took advantage. I should tell him to forget about all of it and get the hell out of here right now. Run away and never look back. Take out a restraining order against myself so I wouldn't be tempted to go anywhere near him.
For some reason, my feet refused to move except to stand and walk over to him. The kitchen was so small, it only took a couple of steps until we were almost standing chest to chest.
"You're too sweet and too good for me," I said softly. "You should find yourself a nice girl. Someone who will treat you right." Someone who wouldn't look at him and lie right to his face. Someone who wouldn't use him to plan a brutal killing.
He raised one hand slowly, brushed it past my cheek and over my hair. He grabbed a fist full and wound it around his fingers.
Holding me there, he brought his face closer to mine, close enough to swallow my gasp of surprise.
"I don't want a nice girl," he whispered. "I want a woman who knows what she wants."
What I knew right then was that my panties were ruined. This was a side of him I hadn't expected, but I liked it. He wasn't holding back now. I didn't want him to. I wanted everything he had to give to me. And then some.
"Do you?" I whispered back.
He turned his head to the side, regarding me before slowly swiveling it back the other way.
"You know what, you're right," he said. "I want a woman who knows what I want. Who’s ready and willing to do what I tell her."