Chapter 1
Suds Sutcliff
Two Weeks Ago…
Sipping my cappuccino, I stare out the coffee joint’s front window. As tourists crowd the Fifth Avenue sidewalk, barely awake inhabitants, clad in designer loungewear, stop for their first fix of the day. A few working stiffs dart between them all, hoping to make it to their jobs in time.
Welcome to rush hour in New York City. Now, where’s my gal?
Much like a teen waiting for his best girl at his high school locker, my cock hardens.
Revenge sex? Yeah, that’s what we initially called it, but not after we blew up the sheets.
On a one to ten scale, I’d rate our hookup mind-blowing.
Days have passed, yet my body remembers the night as if it were yesterday.
My friends warned me this would happen someday.
All happily married, they’ve drunk the Kool-Aid, but not me—never me.
However, I visited heaven when her ankles locked behind my back, and her short nails marked my biceps. She screamed out my name as she came. Hell, she makes it too damn hard to think. Snickering at my double entendre, I swallow down the wrong hole.
Holy mother... There she is.
Not wanting to appear too eager, I neutralize my expression. Something inside me snaps when she smiles and waves both hands. Taking three long steps, I open the door. I toss my cup into the garbage and pull her sweet curves against me.
She slides her palms to the erotic zone at the back of my neck while her hungry lips devour mine. Groaning, I thrust my tongue deep into her mouth. Fuck Fifth Avenue, fuck the tourists, I want to fuck this woman.
The red-faced blond pulls from my grasp when she realizes how public a place, and how private the kiss. “Oh shit. I mean, hi.”
Her prim, proper black suit does a number on me. Because I’ve made love to the passionate woman underneath, it’s like having a dirty secret. Dammit, I'm loving this.
Leaning over, I whisper into her ear, “I want inside you, now. The ladies' room?”
Those chocolate eyes widen while her jaw drops. “Ah, Suds, I have an interview in ten minutes.”
Her blush deepens at my wink. “By my recollection, that’s all it takes.”
“I can’t, randy man. I need this job.” When her huge brown eyes lift to mine, I grin.
“I was jus’ joshin’. C’mon. Let’s go.” I hand her the coffee I ordered her.
With my palm on her lower back, I lead her to the sidewalk. In the building next door, I nod to the guard before I sign in. A swipe of my access card later, I press the elevator’s twelfth floor button. Halfway up, she receives a text, rolls her eyes, and hits delete.
Responding to my raised brows, she shrugs. “The ex. He’s not taking our breakup well.”
If the bastard hadn’t left his phone on the kitchen counter, she never would’ve seen his cheating texts, and she’d still be living in DC. Hell, I should send him a hand-engraved thank you.
I’m still chuckling when we enter the Patten Securities facility. Outside Slate’s office, his partner takes my hands in hers. “Suds, so nice to see you.”
I kiss Lilac’s cheek. “Looking damn fine, doctor. Anytime you want to dump him, y'all have my digits.”
My boss’s gorgeous blond hugs me. “I’ll tell him you said so. Got to run. Already late for my shift. Be well and stay out of trouble.”
“Moi?” I feign an indignant look. “When have I ever-”
Placing a finger to my lips, she glances at Sam. “Don’t believe a word he says.”
Before I can defend myself, the lovely gal disappears into an arriving elevator. “Remember what I said.”
Glancing up at the clock, I knock on the open door. “Nine AM, on the dot, boss.”
Slate stands as fucking fit as he was in the service. Like all of us, he takes his physical exercise to heart. He points to a comfortably padded chair in front of his desk.
“Ms. Russo, take a seat.”
After we sit, Slate joins us. “I trust you had no problem finding the office?”
Small talk? I grin at the Air Force Captain. Seriously dude?
“I uh… I met Sebastian. Umm... he m-met me at the coffee shop.” Knuckles white, Samantha clutches her purse in her lap.
Once I slide Alexander his caffeine fix, I take a sip of mine. “Interviews and strong joe go together like grits 'n gravy.” My joke falls flat, but I think she's less nervous now.
My boss eyes his prey over the plastic lid. “So, you still want to join our little establishment?”
When she nods, he picks up a paper copy of her resume. It says here you worked for fifteen years as an FBI senior analyst. Your first supervisor had nothing but praise. Your last one, not so much, to be honest.”
“Yes, sir. I’m not surprised.” When cappuccino froth appears on her upper lip, I picture licking it off.
Reading my mind, Slate shoots me a scowl before returning it to Sam. “Would you care to explain?”
My brows raise in silent protest. The woman risked everything to move to New York. I thought we agreed to hire her. This sounds more like a second interview.
He must be testing her nerves under pressure. If she fails, her work will consist of answering the phones and setting up appointments. Perhaps he’ll let her analyze a little data in an office cube.
“We went over this in DC, Mr.-”
“Just Slate. No 'mister'.” His cadence reminds me of Sean Connery—Bond, James Bond.
Our Miss Money Penny clears her throat. “Right. As you appear to have forgotten, Slate, I will reiterate our first meeting. My data analyst position was sent to Ireland. My supervisor said I should audition for a position as an agent. My first assignment was to interrogate Mr. Sutcliff.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and I grimace. Yeah, babe, I got you canned.
No longer shaking, she places her cup on the glass tabletop and tilts her chin up. “I sucked at it, so my boss fired me in an instant.”
It’s true, but I was a complete asshole. In a way, it’s Slate’s fault. He made me sign a non-disclosure which meant I couldn’t say shit. I suppose, in retrospect, I shoulda been more professional.
“I checked your references. Everyone speaks highly of you, and Dr. Jones sends her regards.” When Slate pretends to focus on his laptop screen, I swallow back a grin. Knowing his photographic memory, he’s memorized everything about her.
Our interviewee sits taller, eyes bright. “Jenna? Oh yeah. She’s so amazing. Have you spoken to JASON? You’d never guess he's artificial intelligence.” No doubt, this skill has earned a check in the plus column.
However, my boss’ demeaner says overall, he’s unimpressed. “We’ve often worked with her unit. I’m glad to learn you’ve had positive results. Some find the bot difficult to deal with.”
“Hmm. I can’t imagine why.” Her guileless eyes meet his unyielding stare.
Frowning, he releases his gaze and clears his throat. “I also spoke to Police Chief Michael Russo and-”
Sam jumps up. “Listen, I’m really, really sorry about dropping my dad’s name. I simply-”
“Sit, please.” While waiting for her to follow his command, Slate rubs a palm over his face.
Once she plops down in her chair, he begins anew. “Your father suggested I make you my receptionist. He also said if anything happens to you, he will revoke our license permanently.”
Her face pales. “Oh, no. Let me fix this right now.” The whack-a-mole pops up again, only this time she fishes out her phone.
“Sit down, Ms. Russo. If I succumbed to threats, we’d be out of business.” As he eyes her, I hold my breath and count the seconds until he throws her lovely ass to the curb.
I got her into this mess, so I suppose I ought to help her out. “Slate, I think-”
“Shut it, Suds, or leave the room.” My poker-playing boss never loses his cool.
“Yes, sir.” Fuck. The situation is more dire than I thought.
Hearing a mite bit of disrespect, he glares at me over his keyboard. “I’ll ignore your tone.”
Then, he fixates his gaze on lovely red cheeks. “Ms. Russo. I also got a call from Mr. Vincent Vitale. He said he would take it as a personal favor were I to decide not to hire you.”
As the mob boss’ niece curses under her breath, Slate snaps his laptop shut before striding to the door. “Check your email. If you pass muster, we’ll sign you up full-time; until then, you’re a contractor.”
“Thank you, Mr. Slate, I mean, S-S-Slate. You won’t be sorry. I promise. I’m excellent at what I do.” She juts out her hand to grasp Alexander's.
As they shake, a sense of foreboding runs down my spine. While I try to ditch the itch, my boss points down the hall.
“Don’t thank me yet. Find an empty cube. Log on to our guest network. Look over our offer. If you like it, fill in the form and e-sign. Shut the door on your way out.”
After she departs, I frown. “What the fuck, Alexander? We never hire consultants.”
“If she’s any good, she’ll find out soon enough.”
“You said you’d hire her. She moved here on your promise.”
“To be precise, I did offer her a job.”
“I assume consultant means part-time, no benefits?”
“Listen, Suds, what is it with you and this woman? Since when do you care who I hire? She wants to be a private detective, for fuck’s sake. Despite being a brilliant analyst, a part of her brain is squirrely.”
“True, but-”
“You need to dump this one, fast, before her father or her uncle learns you slept with her.
“Holy fucking shit.” Standing, I grab the door handle. He’s right. The sooner I drop her, the better. She’s already burrowed deep into my soul and I never allow such things to happen. “Listen, it’s nothing. She was fired on account of my behavior, so I’d like to fix it, ya know?”
I’m more skilled at lying to him than any of his employees, so he drops the subject. “Ahh... 'da fuck out of here. Don’t let me hear you’re fucking her. Understand?”
“Got it, boss. You won’t hear a thing." Laughing quietly, I close the door.