Sebring (Unfinished Heroes #5)(21)
I resolutely turned from my phone to my computer, where my email was on the screen.
I grabbed my mouse and hit refresh even though I’d only sent the email to David ten minutes earlier. A carefully worded request that was really a demand that he send all the accounts and other pertinent reports by noon that day.
Not surprisingly, David had not replied.
My eyes slid to my phone.
This had to stop.
I straightened in my chair, looked back to my computer and got to work.
*
Three Hours, Fifteen Minutes Later
My phone sounded.
My eyes shot to it before I snatched it up.
I stared at the text long enough for the screen to fade to blank.
Hotel Teatro. Six o’clock. I’ll text the room number later.
Oh God, he’d texted.
God, he wanted to see me again.
I touched my thumb to the button on the bottom of my phone to engage it. I went to texts.
I was about to reply when I stopped.
Sebring wanted one of two things.
A f*ck from me, this time since we’d have a bed and privacy that f*ck (maybe) lasting longer.
Or, less likely but still an option, he wanted to start something minimally real and somewhat normal.
Outside of what I knew of him, I did not know the man. I knew he looked good, sounded good and felt great.
But I knew nothing else. We hadn’t kissed so I didn’t even know how he tasted.
What I did know was that no man deserved the kind of hassle I could bring into his life.
I closed my eyes, feeling that realization settle around my heart so heavy, it felt like it was struggling to beat.
This surprised me since I lived with that sensation every moment of every day of my life. Except for some reason this heavy felt a lot heavier.
I put my phone down and turned my attention back to my computer.
It was half an hour later and I was at the espresso maker across the room finishing making my second espresso of that morning when I heard the tone from my computer telling me I’d received email.
I went back to my desk and saw an email from David.
No attachments. No accounts. No reports. No files at all.
Simply a one line, two sentence email.
Perhaps we can make a meeting to go over what you need. Next Tuesday at 4:00?
We did not need to make a meeting. And it was Wednesday; the next Tuesday would give him a whole week to hide whatever it was he was intent on hiding and play on his history to recruit my father to shut me down.
I knew it.
So I wasted little time firing back, You may have another hour on your deadline. Please send what I requested by 1:00. If you don’t, Gill will be at your office to collect what I requested at 1:30. Thank you.
I sent it.
Ten minutes later, I got a phone call.
It was David.
I ignored it.
At five after one, I started getting the files.
I opened them immediately and began going through them.
*
Three Hours Later
It was fortunate David sent what I requested (except a good sight more than I needed), this keeping my mind off the fact that Sebring wanted me to meet him at Hotel Teatro and that I wanted to meet him at Hotel Teatro very badly even though I would not be doing that.
But, since David sent far more than what I requested (this suggested he was burying me under information so I wouldn’t find evidence of wrongdoing), I was very busy.
Therefore I was engrossed in going through the order manifests of one of our legitimate companies when I heard the knock on my door.
My “Come in,” was distracted.
I kept my gaze to the computer as I heard the door open and shut.
It took several seconds before I realized someone was in my office but they had not spoken.
I swiveled in my chair to turn my attention to the door.
Tommy was standing there.
Standing there looking at me.
Standing there looking at me with an expression on his face I could read.
I held his gaze, not believing what I saw, not wishing to experience the wash of raw putrescence it sent flooding through me, then fighting back the rage that rushed through in its wake.
With everything else—shockingly not the least of which being my brief but affecting encounter with Nick Sebring—all of it piling on and being too much, for once I did not control my reaction, consider every move available and then move forward cautiously (or, as was often the case, not at all).
I surged out of my seat and quickly made my way to the door.
“Liv—” Tommy began.
He shut his mouth when I sliced my eyes to him.
“You should’ve called me.”
I made it to the door and hauled it open.
“It was a direct order,” he said.
I stopped and asked, “Dad? Or Georgia?”
He didn’t answer even as he did.
His eyes moved across the hall.
Without hesitation, my feet moved across the hall.
“Liv!” he clipped.
I ignored him and knocked loudly at her door, didn’t wait and pushed through.
“Fuck! Get the f*ck out!” Georgia, back to her desk, knees up, bent and spread wide, taking Gill’s cock, twisted her head to glare at me.
I looked from my sister to Gill.
It was not the first time I’d noted my sister’s favorite soldier was large, built and exceptionally handsome in a pug-like, blunt, brutal way.