Tempted & Taken (Men of Haven #4)(55)
He’d just finished exiting I-35 when she finally made it through the last of the channels he’d programmed. “You seriously drive a recent model Challenger and you’re not using satellite over local channels?” he said.
She flipped to the first set of six for a fresh lap through the stations and smiled as the chorus for Death Cab for Cutie’s “Black Sun” filled the interior. “Not all of us are wildly successful app developers with a mysterious past in hacking. I have to watch my pennies and save.”
Okay, he’d give her that one. Though, with his brothers and their diversified investments, his income wasn’t limited to just what he made on Listalyzer or his other programs. “It’ll come,” he said, leaving her be with the rest of her exploration. It wasn’t an empty promise either. As hard as she’d worked the last three weeks, she definitely had the drive to be successful. Plus, she’d just cemented a hard-core backer whether she realized it or not.
He pulled into the underground garage for his and Beckett’s complex. Ten to fifteen years ago, the stretch of dilapidated warehouse buildings southwest of downtown Dallas was an iffy place to buy anything, but now it was on an upward trend. The fact that he’d been smart enough to talk Beckett into buying one of the old warehouses meant they’d more than tripled their investment value in the five years since they’d renovated the space.
Darya straightened in her seat and scanned the parking garage. “This is where you live?”
He nodded and steered them toward the row of ten reserved spots they’d kept for themselves. “Beck and I own the building. The top floor is ours, but we renovated the other four floors into two-bedroom lofts.” Thankfully, renting it out to a host of yuppies and successful artists added to their already growing income stream.
Come to think of it, they had a unit open on the floor right below theirs. He could move her there, chalk it up as a job perk and give her a hell of a lot more security in the process. Or he could just keep her in his bed. She’d be even safer there.
The thought rattled him almost as badly as the sight of not just Beckett’s Vette, but Danny’s deep purple ’69 Chevelle beside it.
Fuck.
He pulled into his spot and yanked the emergency brake. So much for stepping into new and scary without eyewitnesses.
Always perceptive, Darya’s soft voice cut into his thoughts. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Or it would be. He’d already wasted too damned much time dodging what his instincts had told him was right from the get-go. All he had to do from here out was put one foot in front of the other and see where it led him. Or rather them.
Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time Beckett razzed him about something, and it wouldn’t be the last. He killed the engine and popped his door. “Hold up and I’ll get your door.”
If she noticed his tension on the way up the elevator she didn’t show it, though the security was tight enough to keep her more than amused. Every floor was secured with keycards, but his and Beckett’s required the same scanners they used at the office. Keeping one hand braced at the small of her back, he guided her through the small private landing to the main door.
He opened the front door and the lock’s stout clack ricocheted off the loft’s exposed brick walls. For the first time since he and Beckett had started renovations, he tried to view their bachelor space the way a woman like Darya might see it. The original concrete floors would’ve been fine for just him and Beck, but Sylvie and Ninette had taken one look at the place and ordered all kinds of area rugs to cover the wide-open space. Steel gray, muted blues and dark chocolate, they all coordinated, but each had different textures and patterns. The final effect looked pretty damned cool.
The industrial metal door slammed shut behind them, drawing Beckett and Danny’s attention from the open kitchen at the far side of the room. A huge concrete covered island was the only thing that demarcated the culinary wonder from the rest of the space and doubled as a decent poker table when the rest of the guys came over. Why they never used the monster dining room table situated off to one side he couldn’t figure. When they’d bought the dark wood piece it’d reminded him of something out of Game of Thrones, but despite its cool factor hardly anyone sat behind it.
With both his and Darya’s bags looped over one shoulder, he gripped her arm and ambled forward with as much casualness as he could muster. Yeah, the hold on her was more Neanderthal than thoughtful man, but it was either keep himself grounded with her presence, or get them both the fuck out of there before the questions started. “Thought you were going with the guys to Crossroads,” he said to Beckett and Danny.
At a distance, he’d not been able to clearly make out Beckett’s smug expression, or Danny’s shock for that matter. The closer he got, the more things came into focus. Whatever they’d been discussing before he and Darya had walked in, it was long forgotten now.
“Had to wait for Danny to finish a job,” Beckett said. “Thought we’d have a beer and then head over together.” His gaze shifted to Darya and he cocked one eyebrow. “You comin’ with us?”
“We’re staying in,” Knox said before Darya could answer. She might be sharp, but Beckett was a ruthless son of a bitch with ferreting out details when he wanted them, and judging by the curiosity on his face, he very much wanted them.