Chapter 27
Kathy: The otter has left the cave.
Rosie: Otter? I thought we settled on bat?
Kathy: Otter/bat = same thing.
Pepper: Actually, one is an aquatic mammal and the other one flies.
Kathy: Yes, thank you, National Geographic.
Maura: Can you all reshare the Facebook post I just shared? Someone’s lost their dog in Florida.
Kathy: How the fuck is us sharing a lost dog post in another state going to help?
Maura: Just in case someone we know has seen her.
Kathy: What is this, Toto the magic flying dog? It would take a Shih Tzu six months to travel to NYC.
PEPPER
I’m freaking the fuck out.
There is a full-set factory alarm system blaring. The sprinklers are on, and all of the little green emergency signs light up near the exits, urging me to flee.
Sex with Chase was impossibly good. The type that I just know I will be comparing every successor to—the expert curl of his fingers, the way he angled my hips at just the right spot to send me wild. It’s hard to forget when every step I take draws attention to the bruised ache between my legs.
Most of all, I feel embarrassed. Leaving myself vulnerable to a man like him is something I promised never to do, let alone to like it while it happens. I never expected him to be so generous in bed, or so collectively concerned with my enjoyment of such matters. And that filthy mouth, holy moly…
“Night babe, I’ll see you in the morning,” I whisper as I close Sunny’s door, earning myself a soft, sleepy grunt in return as the series we had been watching on her iPad plays quietly propped against a pillow on the bed.
The door slides into its frame and the latch bolt clicks softly into the striker plate. Even the doors in this place are the fancy kind that you couldn’t slam if your life depended on it, all fitted with some kind of hidden soft-close mechanism.
It’s time to put on my big girl pants, because Chase and I have business to attend to.
The kind that involves my panties staying firmly on.
I pad down the dark, empty hallway, soft pile carpet swallowing up any noise.
The slit under his bedroom door is dark, but I peek around the corner and out of the window that overlooks the small balcony leading off his room.
A broad figure sits in a chair, hunched over something I can’t see, the sea breeze licking at his hair.
Deciding that I need some protection before I go and talk to him, I slip past his room and into my own, removing my dress and donning chunky sweats, sawing the zipper all the way up to my chin. The coastal nights are mild enough that I shouldn’t get hot.
I check that he’s still on the balcony and then let myself quietly in, deciding against knocking. The faint masculine scent of him swirls in my nostrils as I shut the door, heading for the open French doors that lead to the balconette.
He still sits in the same position, spinning around a rectangular piece of paper in his hands.
“Hey.” I softly draw his attention and stand sheepishly at the door with my hands clasped behind my back.
Far-away umber eyes trace a slow path up my body, causing my cheeks to turn into freshly baked buns.
Gah, I feel stripped bare when he looks at me like that, like I may as well be as naked as the day I was born.
He folds the glossy paper in his hand and tucks it away in his shorts pocket, his thick bicep straining at the hem of his white T-shirt while he does.
“We need to talk,” I say decisively, still loitering like a school child waiting for permission.
“I agree.” He nods his head at the spare wrought iron chair opposite him.
I open my mouth to query his agreement, but then decide against it and take a seat. Folding my hands in my lap, I prepare to deliver the bad news.
“I don’t want us to be at odds because we had sex,” Chase starts before I can speak.
My stomach plummets and I rush to clarify. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
It’s his turn to pause this time, his dark brows knitting together. “Then what is it?”
“Bert.”
“Bert?” He quirks one eyebrow at me, leaning back in his seat and doing that thing guys do where they take up a ton of room with spread legs. Moonlight bleaches his tan skin, highlighting the shadows beneath his sharp cheekbones and jaw.
I can’t believe I was wrapped around this man last night.
“Bert Lancaster. Your security guard.”
The balding man had seemed innocent enough when we visited the plant.
The dad type who takes his grown teenage daughters to softball practice every week and washes his truck in the driveway on Sundays.
But if there is anything my line of work has taught me, it’s that the ones who look innocent warrant another look.
His brows flatten into a hard line, and he leans forward to rest his elbow on his knees. “What about him?”
“I compiled the staff who have access to the control room to manually override the shipments.” I fold my legs and fidget in my seat, trying and failing not to see flashbacks of the last time he looked at me so intently.
“I also pulled all of the camera footage I could and cross checked the people who were in the building at the time of each override.”
The skin on the back of my neck tingles as he leans in a touch closer.
“The strange thing is that one person never appeared coming out of the building after their shift each time, even though the system shows him clocking out.”
“Go on,” Chase urges, all thought of our little sexcapade seemingly banished.
“The footage was looped around the time Bert left each day, so I can’t visually confirm what time he left the site, and he’s the only staff member who was working during all of the shipment overrides in the past six months.”
Rapid-fire calculations happen behind that silky gaze. “But why would looping the footage help him if he were the culprit? We know he works there, it would only be natural for him to be on camera leaving the building as well as entering.”
“I imagine to create some ambiguity as to the exact times he was on site, versus not?” I offer as I mesh my hands together in my lap.
The soft ocean breeze tickles the tendrils that have fallen out of my ponytail into my face, the faint swishing of long grass spiraling up from ground level.
He falls silent, linking his hands together. I tilt my head, waiting.
“It doesn’t feel right,” he says finally.
“Why?”
“Don’t you think it’s too obvious? These people, whoever they are, they know we will be checking all of our systems. Why would they leave a glaring clue as to who one of their contacts is?”
“Okay,” I reply slowly, conceding his point. “But this is the only lead we have for now, so we have to follow it to rule it out at least.”
He lets out a beleaguered sigh, pressing a forefinger and thumb into his eyes. Moonlight catches on the thick web of veins that snakes up the back of them, and I squirm. I’ve always had a thing for big hands.
Oh, get a fucking grip, Pepper.
I clear my throat, averting my eyes. “I tried to locate his address, but you’ve ring-fenced that part of your system pretty heavily, so…”
He snorts, lifting his head to look at me. “Have we finally found something you can’t hack into?”
Heat paints my cheeks. “Or maybe I just care about your staff’s privacy.”
“Yeah, and I’m the king of Nigeria, since we’re playing make believe. But he lives in Queens, if you were wondering.”
“How do you know that?” I blink at him, utterly perplexed at how he would know this off the top of his head given how many employees he has.
He taps the side of his temple, offering me the ghost of a smirk. “Photographic memory, which is how I know the kids in your building switched yours and Mr. Clay’s apartment numbers on the intercom directory.”
My mouth pops open. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
That explains all of the packages being rerouted, and my infernally irritated neighbor.
“Woman, I did! You were too stubborn to listen.” He sighs exasperatedly, shaking his head in a way that could almost be considered affectionate.
I roll my eyes and fold my arms, my gaze tumbling to his pocket in search of a subject change. “What were you looking at?”
The atmosphere changes, and his eyes snap away from mine, exploring the dark horizon and the silver-tipped texture that coats the ocean. “Nothing important.”
My interest piques. Could that be…a flush of color across his high cheekbones? It’s hard to tell in this light, but he’s definitely avoiding looking at me.
“Huh,” I respond slowly, leaning forward.
He lifts his hand to brush a lock of hair that falls into his face back and I take the opportunity to pounce, launching myself in the direction of his pocket.
“Hey!” He clamps his arms around me, landing me effectively caged in his lap.
Damn, I didn’t think this through. I slip my hand between his arm and torso, sliding the paper from his pocket.
He goes still as I stare down at it. I fucking knew it looked familiar. “Where did you get this?”
Silence. I twist to look at him, finding our noses just inches apart. I hold the crumpled leaflet up, but he doesn’t look at it, instead weighing his response.
“I took it from your office.”
My stomach plummets. “Why?”
“Because I saw in your diary that you had a vacation booked with Sunny and I felt bad for ruining that.” The arms around me become soft, holding me instead of keeping me there.
I consider retreating to my own chair, but I’m too stunned to make the move. “That’s why you asked us here?”
“It’s what gave me the idea.” He cants his head cautiously, as if waiting for me to blow up.
My gaze tumbles to the beach house advertisement leaflet, every irritated word I can think of sailing away on the ocean breeze. “That’s…very sweet of you.”
“It’s the least I could do.” He rubs a hand slowly down my spine, giving me a moment to collect myself. I take it gladly, allowing him to hold me as I stare at the moon, leaning back into his embrace.
It’s cozy and warm in the nook of his neck, and I get the dangerous feeling that nothing bad could ever reach me here, caged in his arms. That’s not true, though.
Bad things can always reach you, which is why I spend all my time on such high alert.
I sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted. I’m always running from something, whether it’s a physical thing or just my own anxieties.
I wouldn’t change being responsible for Sunny for the world, but the worry that I’m fucking it all up is eating away at me.
“What are you thinking?” His chest rumbles against me, a large hand swiping my hair away from my face.
“That I’m a fuck-up,” I say honestly.
He angles my face up to look at him. “You’re not a fuck-up, Pepper.”
“Yeah?” I huff, averting my eyes away from the fierce glint in his eyes to focus on his mouth. “Then why do I feel like one?”
He chuckles, a low silky sound that makes my toes curl. “I’m going to let you in on a secret. Even the people you think have it all put together, they also have no fucking idea what they’re doing.”
I scoff. Yeah, right. “Says the billionaire who made his first million at twenty-one.”
He grunts, his face screwing up for a moment. “I hate that fucking word.”
“Billionaire? You can give that word to me, if you hate it so much. All it takes is one little bank transfer.” I smile, sneaking a glance up at his eyes.
He rolls them. Hard. “I’m grateful for my success, but sometimes I’d like to be just Chase. Not billionaire heir, or playboy bachelor, or whatever else the tabloids call me.”
My forehead creases as I try to hold back my laugh. I make a big show of checking my pockets, and then turn my attention back to him. “Sorry, I can’t find a violin small enough.”
He laughs, his arms squeezing me tighter. I can’t help but laugh too, taking an inhale of his masculine scent.
“Thanks for that, dickhead.”
“You’re so welcome, Chase.” I grin into his chest, lifting a finger to trace the small hairs that sit in the hollow where his collarbones meet. He lets out a deep sigh and drops his head to lean on mine.
“Can I ask you something?” I start tentatively, struggling to navigate this newfound closeness between us and where the boundaries lie.
“Anything.”
I look out across the long beach that stretches to the ocean, silver birch trees swishing on each side. “How did you know that trick to stop a panic attack? The pain thing.”
He goes still, and I wait for the bullshit answer that doesn’t come.
“I had panic attacks as a teenager. I figured it out one time by accident.”
There it is again, that hint of unrest that seems to follow him from childhood.
“How did you get them to stop?”
“I left home and went to college.”
I pull back to look at him, and he lets me, but doesn’t seem able to face me. I place a hand on his bristled cheek and force him to.
“I’m sorry for whatever it is you went through.”
He quirks the corner of his full mouth up sadly. “Thanks, Peppercorn.”
Before I can think to stop it, he drops his lips and kisses me softly. So tenderly that it makes moisture spring to my eyes just because I’m not used to being kissed that way. It’s chaste and fleeting, but it ignites a fire in my center all the same.
He places his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what this thing is between us, but it’s not nothing, Pepper.”
The breath in my chest freezes, and I nod as much as I can. “I’m not going to bow and scrape at your feet like everyone else in your life, Chase.”
He chuckles at my warning, cupping my face with his large hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, baby.”
I return his smile tentatively, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I have all of the mixed-up feels for this man.
Reluctance, fear, desire, and something warmer that I’m too terrified to examine.
My life is a fucking mess right now, and selfishly, I want to latch on to the strong anchor he provides.
So I let myself, wrapping my hands around his neck and into his hair. I’ll figure out the exit plan later.
“Take me to bed, Chase.”
He chuckles, the moonlight twinkling off irises that are suddenly alight with devilish intent. “I thought you’d never ask.”