Protected By The Enemy (Hacienda Heights Book 2) Page 4

  My ears perked at the name. “Owen Mason? He’s a billionaire business mogul, isn’t he?”

  My attempt at innocence came out flat, even to my own ears. Gideon either didn’t notice or ignored the obvious motives I could have had with my question. His eager, boyish enthusiasm for the subject matter made me smile just a little.

  “Not quite a mogul, I’d say. Owen is sort of a middleman. He produces parts for Anwick, Inc. I hear he works with other big names like Hunsaker and Farraday as well.”

  This had to be the man blackmailing Logan. He’d mentioned that Mason was planning to pull out of his business if he didn’t cooperate.

  I beamed at Gideon and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’d love to go. What time would you pick me up?”

  Using Gideon like this was rotten, and I was going to hell for it. But if it got me a fraction closer to solving the blackmail issue and getting Phoebe’s dainty little paws off Logan, it would be worth it.

  Gideon blinked at me in surprise. A second later, his face lit up and he offered me that crooked smile again, and this time it made me feel guilty as hell.

  Definitely going to hell.

  “I’ll come by to pick you up at six. The dinner isn’t until later in the evening, but I could probably convince Owen’s personal assistant to give us a tour of the place. It’s on a list of historical homes in the area. I’m not sure if you’re much of a history buff but—”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  With our next date set and one step closer to getting myself out from under my blackmailer, I walked out of the pizza place, halfway in good spirits. I ignored the distinct buzzing of my phone rattling around in my purse.

  I’d just scored the biggest lead. Logan could wait to make his demands of me.

  Chapter Six

  Logan

  “Damn it, Mina, answer your fucking phone,” I growled into the receiver.

  Mina was late. She had many shortcomings, but tardiness was not one of them.

  I gripped the underside of the table with a white-knuckled hand, talking myself down from a mental ledge. The temptation to call Jack MacDonald to track the small GPS I’d taped to the underside of Mina’s Lexus was overwhelming.

  But I had no reason to suspect her lateness was caused by anything out of the ordinary. I was straying dangerously into stalker territory, placing a GPS on Mina’s property in order to keep tabs on her location.

  She’s stuck in traffic, I told myself. There was a delay at the restaurant. Maybe Gideon Harvey dragged her into a closet and fucked her five ways to Sunday.

  My fingernails gouged the underside of the table until the pulpy material came away in my hand. I swore. Get a fucking handle on yourself, Farraday.

  A flash of white in my periphery snapped me out of the rage-fueled haze. A cursory glance through the window confirmed it was Mina’s Lexus. It pulled quickly to a stop near the door, and she climbed out, her long legs as she exited the car driving me once more to distraction.

  I hadn’t seen her in anything as common as jeans since we’d broken up. The dark wash denim hugged her figure and outlined the luscious curves of her body. And the lavender quarter-sleeve blouse did nothing to hide her ample curves and pale, creamy skin.

  The bell above the door jangled as she stepped inside the cafe. Her eyes swept over the dozen or so empty tables before finally settling on me. Whatever she read on my face made her scowl.

  “Don’t get pissy with me,” she warned. “I know I’m late, but the delay was important.”

  I brushed off the evidence of my destructive grip on the table onto my pant leg, hoping she’d overlook the flecks of plywood that trickled through my fingers onto the floor. I’d send the establishment an anonymous check to cover the damages done to their property.

  “Where were you?” I demanded.

  Mina’s fingers drummed an impatient, staccato beat onto the table as she sat. “Didn’t I just say not to get pissy? Brunch was canceled, and we went to a pizza place instead.”

  “And it was too much of a hassle to call, I suppose? You’ve been receiving death threats, Mina. You could have been kidnapped again, for all I knew.”

  Mina blanched, and her hand stilled its rhythmic tapping for just an instant. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But I’m telling you, this was important. I was speaking with Gideon—”

  “Was that all you were doing?” I snapped.

  “Oh, no,” she drawled. “I let him hoist me onto the table and have his wicked way with me in front of God, the chef, and his dying grandmother. How classless do you think I am, Logan?”

  The barista, sensing a fight brewing, called out to us from behind the counter. “Are you ready to order now, mister?”

  The reminder that we were not alone took the air out of my tirade. She’d been held back by an unforeseen set of circumstances. The slight hadn’t been intentional, and the longer we argued, the less likely we were to make headway in either blackmail case.

  “We’ll be over in a moment,” I called back. “My friend is still making a decision.”

  “Friends,” she grumbled. “Is that what we are?”

  “No more of that,” I warned. “We’re calling a truce, right here and now. I don’t care what sort of issues we’re experiencing. If we don’t solve this soon, neither of us will be in any shape to argue about trivialities. You said you were speaking to that bastard, Harvey. What did he say?”

  Mina clearly took umbrage with the label but contented herself with a sniff of disapproval before she spoke. “He’s attending a business dinner with Owen Mason and I’ve scored an invitation.”

  The pronouncement had the desired effect, completely derailing my anger.

  A reluctant smile curved my mouth. “Already? You really are the best in your field.”

  “Call me Blakely, Mina Blakely,” she said in a bad Sean Connery impression. Still, it drew an unwilling chuckle from me. “So how about you, hotshot bodyguard?” She leaned heavily on the armrest of her chair. “What progress have you made?”

  Embarrassingly little in light of Mina’s accomplishment. I reached into my sports jacket and withdrew a small notepad from the interior pocket.

  “I thought we’d start by compiling a list of suspects. I still think the culprit is a former Hustler client. I need their names.”

  Mina squirmed in her seat. Instead of answering directly, she chewed idly at one nail. When she finally answered, her tone was halting. “I’m not sure revealing their identities is a good idea, Logan. The point of the Hustlers is discretion. If anyone learns that I’ve told you, I’m finished.”

  “The names will never see the light of day,” I swore. “Once a suspect is removed from the list, I’ll shred their file. But for now, I need the name of your hacker friend and the name of every Hustler client since its inception.”

  She was silent for a long moment, and finally shook her head. “I can’t, Logan. I owe a lot to these people. It would be tantamount to doxing them. And the consequences if we fail will be…” She shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “If you don’t find the blackmailer, there will be no Hustlers at all. You can’t serve your clients if you’re dead. Your commitment is admirable, but it’s misplaced.”

  “But—”

  “I just gave you three million, Mina. You owe me the names. Let me do my damn job.”

  Mina gave a reluctant sigh but finally nodded. “Alright. But that notebook is too small. You’re going to run out of paper.”

  True to her word, the list and details exhausted the paper in the small notebook. Mina didn’t relax her rigid posture until I’d jotted the last name down.

  “All that being said, I don’t think any of my clients are in on this.”

  “Do you have a suspect then?”

  Mina’s incredulous stare said I was clearly missing something. “I’ve thought about it, and I think that my family might be in on it. The Senator lost well over six million when his campaign tanked, and
you know he would hate my profession. This could be his way of getting back at me.”

  I hadn’t really considered Keenan or Walter Blakely as viable suspects before now. With a choleric temperament and a grudge that was going six years strong, Walter would have the motive to demand six million. But to threaten the lives of a dozen women? That didn’t strike me as plausible for the man.

  “I’ll look into it,” I promised, pushing away from the table.

  Mina followed suit, and I was treated to another flash of long, tantalizing leg. The tight top and snugly fit jeans emphasized every gorgeous curve of her body, and I wanted to pop the button that strained across her breasts, allowing the creamy flesh to spill out. I wanted to trace the soft, supple skin there with my tongue, and make her shudder, revealing just how much she wanted it, wanted me.

  Mina hoisted a designer bag onto one arm and checked the time on her mobile phone. “It’s a quarter past two, Logan. I need to go if I’m going to make it back to headquarters by four. Heather is going to have to pull nothing short of a miracle to redo my look before the dinner tonight.”

  The mere mention of the date with Gideon Harvey set envy bubbling in my stomach. Fucking Gideon Harvey. The reminder that she’d dressed this way for him, not me, made me want to spit. I couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was after something more than what he claimed. If he laid so much as a finger on her...

  Mina snapped her fingers in front of my face, drawing me out of the fantasy of wrapping my fingers around Harvey’s neck.

  “What?”

  “I just said goodbye. Aren’t you going to say it back?”

  I took a step closer so that the tips of her breasts brushed my torso. She must have glimpsed the intent in my eyes, but she didn’t back away when I brought a hand up to brush the line of her jaw. Her satin skin heated beneath my touch, turning a lovely shade of pink.

  I tucked a loose lock of her hair behind one ear and breathed in the sweet honeysuckle perfume she wore. Mina’s body trembled at my touch, but her mouth was anything but uncertain when it met mine.

  Her hands came up automatically to tangle in my hair, and I splayed my hands over the small of her back, drawing her as close as I dared in the public space.

  Never shy or timid, she fought to gain the upper hand, battling my questing tongue for dominance. The hot slide of that little appendage sent blood straight to my groin and I ground my arousal against her denim-clad hip.

  Mina whimpered when I broke the kiss a minute later and lowered my lips to brush the shell of her ear. “If I had my way, I’d hoist you up on the counter and taste what’s between your sweet, creamy thighs. I’m pretty sure it’s better than the swill they’re selling here.”

  “Logan we’re in public—”

  “Then let’s find somewhere private,” I coaxed, sliding my free hand into hers, drawing her away from our table. I slapped a more than generous tip onto the table for the barista, hoping it would buy us a few moments of privacy, and pulled her toward the restrooms. Passing them up, I headed for the door that I hoped led to a janitorial closet, thinking I’d rekindle that hot night in Morocco.

  When she didn’t protest, I pulled the door of the closet open and pulled her inside with me.

  The place was not as spacious as the last closet we’d occupied. The one at the Casablanca Hyatt had the dimensions of a walk-in closet, where this space resembled a matchbox in its proportions. As I closed and barricaded the door with a metal chair that had been leaning against the wall, Mina was pressed so tightly against me in the confined space that I felt every inhale.

  Desire crackled between us. I shoved my hand into her hair, grateful she’d forgone the dark wig. She looked stunning, no matter whose face she wore, but none were so dear to me as her own. Running the bright strands between my fingertips, I could almost imagine that the past had never happened. That her six-year absence from my side had been a horrible fever dream.

  Seizing the hem of her tight little top, I drew it up and over her head, exposing a see-through lace bra beneath. The taut pink peaks of her nipples strained at the fabric, begging to be touched, tasted, worshiped.

  Mounding her flesh with my hand, I grazed my lips down her jaw, along her throat, leaving a trail of nips and wet kisses on my path toward her breast. I didn’t care if the little red spots turned darker later—leaving something of me behind on her skin would only serve me. Gideon Harvey couldn’t delude himself into thinking she was his with my claim written across her skin.

  Mina bit her knuckle to stifle a moan when my tongue laved against her nipple. I slid my hand from her hair, smoothing it down her arm until I reached the other breast. Rolling the neglected peak between my fingers, I pulled to a point just shy of pain and was rewarded by a soft cry.

  “We have to stop doing this in closets,” she panted as I tested my teeth against her nipple. The bra needed to go.

  “Seriously,” she continued. “I don’t want to get turned on by the smell of Pine Sol for the rest of my life, okay?”

  Her body bucked into mine, belying her words. I offered her a grin and undid the clasp of her bra with one hand, pulling the scrap of fabric away, letting it join the blouse on the floor.

  Her tits sprang free and I took a moment to admire them. Ample and flushed a lovely rose with her desire, they were the most beautiful sight I’d seen in the last week.

  If Mina noticed my stare, she ignored it, fumbling with the button of her jeans. It took her an agonizingly long time to shimmy out of the tight denim. “We have to be quick.” When I only quirked up a brow, she said, “I’m not kidding. I’m going to be lucky to make it home in time at this rate.”

  Right now, I relished the idea of inconveniencing Gideon Harvey. If the dinner wasn’t so vital, I’d have kept her here until closing.

  I shrugged out of my suit jacket and threw it onto the rapidly growing pile of clothing on the floor. I reached for my shirt buttons, but Mina halted my fumbling fingers.

  “Get the pants off,” she hissed. “Get inside of me now, damn it.”

  My cock hardened to the point of pain, her breathy order sending arousal coursing through me. First kicking off my shoes, I quickly reached for the button of my dress pants and pulled them off.

  Mina stared. “Commando, huh?”

  “It’s faster,” I said with a chuckle as I fumbled with the condom. I drew her flush against my chest before it could register that I’d been planning this, and hoisted her up, her legs curling around my waist and locking there like a vice.

  She wrapped eager fingers around my cock and guided me to her entrance, sliding the tip of me inside. I pushed home with a groan, and she stilled, her fingers digging into my shoulder blades. Her body shuddered, undulating deliciously around my length.

  Gripping one of the shelves of cleaning supplies, she hoisted herself up and to the tip of my length. I cupped her ass in my hands and pressed her back down hard, eliciting a moan from her. Her eyes fluttered closed, her expression one of pure bliss.

  With one hand, she used the back of my neck as leverage, meeting my strokes with soft pants. I buried my face in her neck, carefully avoiding the healing ring of bruises on her skin, running my tongue along the ridge of her collarbone.

  Her warm, wet cunt tightened when I nipped her skin with my teeth. “Oh fuck,” she panted. “Logan. I’m going to.”

  “I know baby, let go.”

  Mina came hard a minute later, clawing my back through the shirt. My own release roared through me a second later. I pressed my forehead to hers, delighted at the soft dew of sweat that had gathered on her brow. I kissed her temple, savoring the way she curled around me, boneless and sated.

  I was going to find a way to get out of this clusterfuck, I vowed. And when I did, I was going to make Mina mine. Forever.

  Chapter Seven

  Mina

  “Oh shit,” I muttered beneath my breath, balking in the entryway to the third floor ballroom which now doubled as a dining room.

&nbs
p; Owen Mason’s home was just as grand as Logan’s. As promised, Mason’s assistant had given me a tour of the place, alongside Gideon. A three-story Georgian-style manor house, it was undeniably gorgeous.

  I’d need to get the name of his interior designer. The place had been done up in shades of silver and blue, and the design elements complemented each other gracefully, though many of the pieces on the walls and much of the furniture was eclectic. I’d taken note of the first-floor home office that had been pointed out on our impromptu tour. The lockpicks that Logan had loaned me felt like they weighed about a million pounds in the bottom of my bag. I tried to act nonchalant, but the flash drive along with the tools made me feel like an inexperienced cat burglar. With any luck I could make a hasty departure from dinner, ascend the stairs, break in and call Tuck for a crash course in Hacking for Dummies.

  Gideon’s steps stuttered at my exclamation and I nearly slipped out of one of the ridiculous golden heels I wore. Paired with the little red dress and a thick layer of makeup, the getup was probably the most eye-catching ensemble I’d donned in years. Only Gideon’s strong, bracing arm kept me from twisting an ankle.

  “What’s wrong?” Gideon asked in an undertone. “Are you not feeling well again? We could go.”

  I winced. Gideon Harvey was hardly seeing me at my peak. Thus far, I’d cut one event short, nearly botched the second, and consorted with Logan between appointments. I made a mental note to pay Gideon back his fees when the trouble with my blackmailer was resolved. He deserved a refund for such shoddy work.

  Due to the three unforeseen complications that were situated at the dining table of the ballroom, bathed in the glow of the glittering chandelier, I worried I’d have to cut short this engagement as well.

  “The Senator is here,” I muttered.

  I flicked my gaze toward his seat, noting all the subtle changes that had played out on his weathered face since I’d seen him last, six years ago. His hair was mostly salt, with a few flecks of pepper stubbornly persisting around his crown. I drew a spiteful, silent comparison to a skunk. He’d swapped the contacts he’d worn on the campaign trail for a pair of respectable wire-rimmed spectacles. New lines fanned around his mouth and eyes during a brief smile.