RISK(9)

I called him because I wanted him to get his ass to Meadow so he could catch a glimpse of Ellie before she left. I needed him to confirm the same thing he does every time I see a gorgeous redhead with beautiful blue eyes. He tells me it's not the girl I've been searching a third of my life for and I tell him I'll let it go. I never do. I can't. The scenario plays out the same way every goddamn time. It never ends with Crew handing a high paying job to an underqualified applicant.

"I admit it's all impressive." I focus on Ellie, but she's looking right at Crew. "We need to be prudent about who we hire, Ellie. We'll need to know your background."

She nods, but doesn't turn from Crew to look my way. "I have a bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice from Mercy College. I attended on a full scholarship. Before I moved to Las Vegas, I worked in Manhattan as a security consultant for Foster Enterprises in their Fashion Division. During my contract, I was able to help lower loss due to theft in their stores to less than one percent across the board. I did that without using security tags on any of their products."

Jesus Christ. A f*cking full scholarship?

I limped through college on a ticket paid for by my father.

We're consistently losing three percent in annual sales to theft by customers and our goddamn greedy employees. Lowering it to one percent would mean more than twenty million dollars saved a year.

Ellie takes a deep breath before she continues. "I should also mention that I'm a recipient of the Jane Bishop Medal from the Mayor of New York for civilian bravery. It took getting a bullet in my thigh but it was worth it and yes, it hurt like hell. "

"Good enough for you?" Crew crosses his arms over his chest as he shoots me a look that says wake the hell up, idiot, this woman is our savior.

I don't say anything because f*ck me, there are no words. A bullet? A medal for bravery? I'm scared of spiders, and this woman is getting awards for her courage.

"I get that you need to check out my credentials." Again, she stares at Crew while she talks. A smile brightens her face. "If you need me to fill out an application or submit my resume when I get back to the city, I'll be happy to come in and do that."

"Give me your number." He tugs his phone out of the back pocket of his pants. "I'll need a few other details too."

She steps away with him; her phone clutched in her delicate hands. They're the same hands that most likely could snap a man's neck in two with one quick twist.

"Are you coming home with me or not?" Lacy bumps her hip against my thigh.

Shit. I forgot about her. Her voice, her irritatingly high-pitched, tinny voice had trailed off when I walked over to speak with Ellie and Crew. I assumed Lacy had wandered away after someone else, but that didn't happen. She's still here.

I look down at her, expressionless. There seriously are no words.

"In case you can't take a hint, you're not Ellie Madden's type. The looker with the black hair is." She smirks. "It's fate. The two of us are destined to happen."

I circle my index finger in the narrow space between us. "The two of us? You think this is fate?"

"You haven't been able to take your eyes off of me since we met." She flutters her now chalky eyelids causing flecks of bluish, lime green shimmer to rain down on her cheeks. "We're wasting time standing here when we could be back at my place."

Destroying this woman's ego is tempting, but the fuel of my frustration would be wasted on her. She may be right. I may not be Ellie's usual type, but that unspoken exchange between us, when she was in my lap, was undeniable. I know she felt it too even if she acted like I didn't f*cking exist when she was talking to Crew.

"Are you ready to go?" Lacy snaps. "Time is wasting."

"Time has run out." I gesture at my watch with an exaggerated sigh. "It looks like fate has other plans for us. I have an early flight in the morning."

"We'll just pull an all-nighter." Her eyes drop to my wrist. "Jesus. Is that a Rolex? How much are you worth?"

"This? A Rolex?" I tap the face of my watch, one of the three Rolex watches I own. "I wish. I got this from a guy working a street fair in Toledo. It keeps time, but the rash it gives me rivals the one on my dick."

"What?" she asks tightly. "You have a rash on your dick?"

I nod. "That's what my doc says it is. He doesn't think it's contagious. My ex-wife disagrees."

"She has the rash too?"

If I actually had an ex-wife, she'd be rash free, just as I am. I'm clean as a whistle and have the monthly test results to prove it. "She's got the rash, the open sores and the non-stop itching. At least, that's what she claims in her lawsuit."

She takes a step back. "She's suing you over the rash?"

I reach down and scratch my dick through my pants, shifting from one foot to the other. "She has to prove I gave it to her. Since my doc says my rash isn't contagious, she can't win."

Her attention is laser focused on the movement of my right hand. "I forgot that I need to give my dog a bath. He needs a good scrub. I'll go home now and do that."

I stop scratching and raise my hand to her shoulder. "I'll help."

Tension tightens her body. She looks at my hand, panic chasing away anything else in her expression. "No. You can't help."