Caroline Cross - Tame Me

He ducked his head in the open doorway. “Did you get that information I asked for?”

The younger Steele—number four in the nine-man birth order—glanced over from where he sat slouched in his tilted-back office chair. He was the picture of relaxation with his sneaker-clad feet propped on his desk, an illusion contradicted only by the rapid movement of his fingers over the computer keyboard propped on his lap.

“Do women swoon when I walk into a room?” he responded serenely. “The answer to both questions, big brother, is yes. Of course.”

“And?”

“And you’re giving me a crick in the neck standing over there. Why don’t you come in, take a load off, tell Uncle Cooper what’s put the stick up your ass.”

Gabe snorted inelegantly. “That’ll be the day.” Despite his words, he did walk farther into the room, although not to take Cooper up on his invitation. He was here to collect intel, not dispense it. “Well? You going to tell me what you found out or not?”

The younger man shrugged. “Nothing much has changed. The warrant for Cal Morgan’s arrest remains active, although my contact at the Feds says it’s currently not worth the paper it’s printed on. As long as Morgan stays in San Timoteo, they can’t touch him, much less a dime of all that stolen money. Which, FYI, my friend now puts at twenty million, meaning that you, once again, win the office pool.”

“Terrific.” He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it with more force than was necessary onto one of the navy suede chairs in front of the desk. “There’s nothing I like better than accurately predicting the extent of a disaster.”

“Not your responsibility,” Cooper said calmly. “You know damn well it would’ve been a whole lot worse if we hadn’t been brought in when we were.”

The hell of it was, Gabe did. And it wasn’t that he was the least bit sorry Steele Security had been the one to expose Caleb Morgan’s crooked dealings, he admitted, pacing restlessly toward the bank of windows at the far end of the room.

They’d done what they’d been hired to—check out Morgan Creek Investment. And they’d done it the way they did everything, thoroughly and completely.

It hadn’t mattered that it wasn’t their usual sort of job. Or that their client, a prospective Morgan Creek investor, had only expected them to give the company a quick once-over to placate his elderly mother, who swore that while on a recent trip overseas she’d been unable to locate the Taiwanese shopping mall featured in the company’s literature.

The son was now sending his mother flowers weekly, since she’d saved him a bundle when it turned out the mall really didn’t exist.

While Morgan, who’d fled the country the day after Steele had clued in the authorities, was most likely sipping mai tais on the veranda of his newly acquired tropical estate, living a life of luxury made possible by the pirated millions he’d socked away in untouchable offshore accounts.

No, if Gabe did have a regret, it was that they hadn’t brought the bastard down sooner. While it wouldn’t have changed what Morgan had done, it no doubt would have limited the extent of the ensuing damage. As it was, between unpaid taxes and first-position creditors, there hadn’t been much left but crumbs for his bilked clients to recover.

And then there was Mallory. Who, until five hours ago, Gabe had assumed was off in St. Croix or Monte Carlo or some other exotic locale, licking her wounds in luxurious seclusion. Not living all on her own in one of Denver’s worst neighborhoods, trying to scrape by on some minimum wage job.

And there it was, that unexpected, unacceptable miscalculation.

“What about Morgan’s daughter?” he asked abruptly, swiveling around to stare expectantly at his brother. “What did you find out about her?”

Cooper’s busy fingers stilled. “You mean, in addition to the fact that she gave you a shellacking at lunch today?”

“How the hell did you hear about that?”

Cooper rolled his eyes. “How do you think? Family grapevine, bro. Some woman Lilah went to school with saw what happened at Annabelle’s and couldn’t wait to call Lilah and tell her all about it. Lilah told Dom when he took her to her doctor’s appointment, and he told me when he stopped by to pick up the Lederer file on their way home.”

“Geezus.” The intrabrother communication network had always been good, but the addition in the past year of Gen and Lilah, his sisters-in-law, had definitely kicked it up a notch.

“Yeah. Pretty scary, huh?”

“You could say that. Is Lilah all right? No surprises at the doctor’s?” Leaving the windows, he walked back toward Coop’s desk.

“As far as I know, she’s as good as a woman six months gone can be. Dom, on the other hand, may not make it.”

“No news there.” Their brother, Dominic, a former Navy SEAL, had been the embodiment of the brash, tough, never-let-’em-see-you-sweat warrior until he’d signed on to rescue a pretty blond socialite from the banana republic where she was being held prisoner. Now he and Lilah were married and expecting their first child, and he was as overprotective as a five-star general with a troop of one.

“I guess that’s true,” Cooper conceded. “But still…Lilah mentioned today how much she’s enjoying working on some big charity ball, and you could practically see Dom’s teeth start to gnash. It seems like the closer she gets to her due date, the harder it is for him to pretend he doesn’t want to haul her off somewhere and wrap her in a nice safe protective bubble.” He sighed. “If it wasn’t so funny, it’d be pathetic. He used to be such a player.”

Gabe’s dark mood lightened fractionally at his brother’s mournful expression. He shrugged. “Love makes people crazy.” One of the excellent reasons why it wasn’t for him.

“I’ll say.” Sliding the keyboard onto the desk, he turned his attention back to Gabe, his melancholy vanishing as quickly as it had come. “While we’re on the subject of crazy, was the divine Ms. Morgan really working as a waitress?”

“Hostess,” Gabe corrected.

“And she actually called you an egotistical, scum-sucking sonofabitch?”

“She may have. I wasn’t exactly taking notes.”

“And?”

“That about covers it. As noted, she called me a few choice names, refused to seat me, then left when her boss tried to smooth over the situation.”

“Huh.” Cooper eyed him consideringly. “So what did she say when you went after her later? Was she still pissed?”

“Who said I went after her?”

“Please.” Cooper sniffed. “You canceled your afternoon appointments, you asked for a Morgan family update, and it’s been obvious ever since you walked in here you’re tweaked about something. Plus Dom says you two have always had a thing for each other…”

A vision of Mallory’s robe drifting south and exposing her smooth, velvet-skinned shoulders flashed through Gabe’s mind.

“So yeah,” Cooper concluded. “You went after her.”

He thrust the vision away. “You’re right. I did. And yes, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me, which given the circumstances is no great surprise. As for the rest of what we discussed…”

He thought about Mallory’s attempt to act indifferent about her situation while foolishly insisting she was doing just fine, and once more felt frustrated, impatient, annoyed—and yes, although he couldn’t quite figure out why—touched.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t tell me you’re going to stone-wall your favorite sibling.”

“Hell, no. But then, last I checked, Deke’s still in Borneo.”

“Ouch.” Cooper gave him a faux-wounded look. “You could’ve just said no.”