Cherise Sinclair - Edge of the Enforcer

To top it off, she’d thrown a tantrum at his announcement he was leaving. When his replacement, Marley, looked as if she were considering walking out, damned if he hadn’t fled like a wimp.

As he shoved open the door to the offices of Demakis International Security, he shook off his irritation. At least he’d be in San Francisco for a while. He could visit Dark Haven tonight and find someone to play with. Maybe johnboy or HurtMe. Or Dixon might be available, even if the submissive couldn’t take as much pain.

After a good S/M session, deVries could fuck his brains out with a willing female.

His mouth tightened as he remembered the previous week. The innocent-looking, cute… money-grubbing …submissive. Been years since a woman had taken him in so thoroughly. Yeah, she was good . Might even have a bit of a conscience left, considering the guilt on her face when he’d asked if her ex was in a ritzy place like hers.

Did some women have a biological glitch making them more mercenary than men? They might appear loyal at first, but wave a wad of cash in front of them and some would sell out their own kin.

Or, in the case of his mother, her son.

As he stepped into the reception area, he stopped abruptly. “What the fuck?”

Lindsey, the Texan with a calculator for a heart, sat at the admin’s desk. “Mr. deVries.” Expressionless, no light in her wide brown eyes. Her voice was icy. “Mr. Demakis said you were to go straight in when you arrived.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Working. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Guess so.” He set his hands palm-down on the desk and leaned into Lindsey’s space. “I don’t like you.”

The tiny lines around her eyes flinched, but she didn’t move. Didn’t evade his gaze. Didn’t display fear, and he had to give her props for that. A pity she’d be afraid very shortly when he—

“Zander, I’m glad you’re back,” Simon said from behind him. “How did you enjoy Los Angeles?”

DeVries turned, and his boss’s knowing smile pissed him off good. “Did you know what a bitch your so-called star is?”

“Of course.” Simon motioned him into his office and said to the Texan, “Take an hour for lunch. Mrs. Martinez is on her way up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without looking at deVries once, she bent over, digging in a drawer in her desk. Her desk.

DeVries dropped into a chair in Simon’s office and glanced around. Creamy carpet. Off-white walls. Yet the mahogany desk, leather furniture, and colorful abstract art kept the place from the frozen feeling of the Texan’s fancy condo. “You hiring Dark Haven subbies now?”

Simon’s gaze cooled. “Mrs. Martinez’s daughter is getting married, and she requested help for a couple of weeks. Rona suggested I hire Lindsey.”

And Simon gave his wife just about anything she wanted. DeVries considered mentioning Lindsey’s past. Unfortunately, what she’d done to an ex-husband had little bearing on her performance as a secretary. Odd she was working at all, but perhaps an upscale office was the perfect hunting ground for her next sucker.

“Do you have a concern with Lindsey?” Simon asked evenly.

Fuck. “Nothing related to work. Won’t be a problem.”

“Good enough.” Simon flipped open a folder on the desk. “Now debrief me on Los Angeles. I also want your input on security for the Scofield’s residence.”

DeVries turned his attention to the matters at hand. The Texan would undoubtedly stay out of his path, both here and at Dark Haven. She didn’t strike him as suicidal.

For over an hour, they tossed ideas back and forth, and finally Simon nodded. “Looks workable.” He glanced down at the notes he’d jotted. “Give this to Lindsey to type up, would you, please?”

DeVries took the papers. At the door, he stopped. “How’s she working out?”

Simon’s level look made him feel like a fool. “Very nicely. Her degree is in social work, and she lacks office experience; however, sheer doggedness gets her past that. I’ll keep her as long as she wants to stay.”

Social work? Jesus . “Why the fuck would a rich girl major in social work?”

“Rich girl?” Simon gave him a quizzical glance. “Where’d you get such an idea?”

“Saw her condo. Pacific Heights.”

With a disgusted sound, Simon leaned back in his chair. “Someday you might want to talk to the woman you’re fucking.”

Unable to think of a response, he closed the door. Simon’s reaction implied Lindsey wasn’t rich, and deVries was off base.

Or Simon had been taken in by someone’s puppy-dog eyes and an oh-pitiful-me story.

DeVries crossed the hallway to the reception area. Lindsey was behind the desk, sitting beside Mrs. Martinez.

The gray-haired secretary’s tailored silvery suit hinted at her impressive efficiency; her pleased smile showed her true nature. Sweetest woman on the planet.

“Zander, it’s wonderful you’re back.” She held her hand out to him and accepted a kiss on her cheek as her due. “If you’ll be here a few days, I’ll make you an apple pie.”

His mouth watered. The woman knew how to cook. “If I’m out of town, I’ll fly back.”

Her laugh was delighted. Still smiling, she turned to the silent little Texan. “Lindsey, do you know Alexander deVries? He’s Simon’s best operative.”

“Yes, we’ve met.” Lindsey tilted her head stiffly. “Mr. deVries.”

Well, if that was the way she wanted to play it, fine. He gave her a nod and handed Mrs. Martinez the papers. “Simon needed these typed up.”

In his office, he dropped into his chair. As one of Simon’s three lead security agents, he rated his own space rather than a cubicle. Not high on his list of priorities, but he liked the privacy. Leaning back, he stared out the window where the Bay sparkled in an undoubtedly short interlude of sunshine.

Quite the puzzle. A pretty divorcee who ended up well-off enough to live in Pacific Heights—yet worked as a receptionist.

She’d dressed…comfortably. Not rich. Black jeans and boots, silky red shirt. A black jacket dressed her outfit up adequately for an office.

Mrs. Martinez dressed fancier.

Lindsey had a degree in social work—or so she’d told Simon. Social workers and con artists didn’t belong in the same box.

He scowled. Although she’d lied to him last weekend, he hadn’t noticed any dishonesty before that. However, he’d been played for a fool before. Tamara had lied to him constantly, and he hadn’t caught on.

Even so, that was a decade ago. He’d been younger. Hadn’t been a Dom and used to studying for small telltale signs of deception. He’d never have thought to distrust his wife.

The sound of Lindsey’s giggles came through the closed door. Sweet. Open. Her apparent sincerity was one of her traits he’d found compelling.

Simon knew about her ritzy condo, yet didn’t think she was rich. Had he checked her references? Seen her college transcripts? He wasn’t an idiot, after all.

“I’m missing something,” deVries muttered. As a kid, he had never been able to step away from a puzzle. Got into fixing computers for the sheer fun of figuring out how they worked. As a SEAL, he’d specialized in surveillance, surreptitious entry, and breaching. Now, as a trained investigator, he should be able to unravel the puzzle of Lindsey.

He leaned forward and brought up the first search program.

***

Why couldn’t the man go do his investigating and bodyguarding somewhere else? Like maybe New York? Late that afternoon, Lindsey walked past deVries’s office. Door closed. Through the smoky glass, she could see him at his desk. Having him in the same building made her more nervous than her resident rodent on cleaning day. Little Mouse Francois had the right idea—jump in a hidey-hole until it was safe to come out.