Brenda Jackson - Forged In Desire

Striker paused a moment and then said, “The day before I was to be transferred to Glenworth Penitentiary, I got word that Wade committed suicide by hanging himself. Mom found him when she went into his bedroom to wake him up for school. It was the day before his fourteenth birthday.”

There. Now he’d told her all the gory details about his family. Well, not all of them. She didn’t need to know that his mom died a year later. With one son in jail and the other one dead, she’d gotten depressed and refused to eat and take her blood pressure medication. In the end, hypertension had done her in at the age of forty.

Glancing over at Margo, he saw her expression had gone from shock to empathy. Hell, the last thing he wanted was to start a pity party. He didn’t need her or anyone’s sympathy. Although the first couple of years in prison had been the hardest, he had survived. While locked up behind bars, he had met Sheppard Granger.

Shep, as the other inmates called him, was a lot older than most of them and was serving time for murdering his wife. It didn’t take long for anyone who hung around Shep to know just what sort of man he was: a natural-born leader—a positive one. Before being sent to prison he was the CEO of a major corporation, Granger Aeronautics. While in prison Shep had become a father figure for most of the younger inmates, a mentor and confidant. He gained the respect and admiration of many. Instead of being resentful for being locked up for a crime he didn’t commit, Shep used his time in prison to the inmates’ advantage by implementing such programs as Toastmasters, Leaders of Tomorrow and both the GED and college programs. Because of Shep, Striker’s life had changed forever. Shep’s encouragement had given Striker a reason to become a better person in spite of all that he’d lost.

The back door opened and Bruce and Bobby walked in. “Everything’s all set,” Bobby said, smiling. “I installed motion lights around the front and back of the house.”

“And you’ll get a signal on your phone as well,” Bruce added. “So you won’t be caught off guard. I understand that Stonewall and the others are also monitoring the property from the office. And I took care of everything else you requested in here.”

He nodded, giving Bruce the eye not to go into more detail. “Good. I’ll see you guys out.”

Leaving Margo in the kitchen, he walked Bobby and Bruce to the door. He glanced to where she stood and could see her staring at them. He kept his eyes on her as he locked the front door behind the men and proceeded to set the alarm.

“What are those other things you requested Bruce take care of?”

He held up his hand. “Please, no more questions. You’ve asked too many already.” And I’ve told you more than I should have.

She placed her hands on her hips. “I have a right to know.”

Striker rolled his eyes. They were back to that again, were they? “Listen, Margo,” he said in a voice that indicated he’d all but lost his patience with her. “Instead of asking questions of any real significance pertaining to your situation, your questions involved getting into my business. Your nosiness cost you and I’m not answering any more of your questions.”

Satisfied, he saw her anger escalating. An outraged Margo he could deal with. A compassionate one he could not. “And I need your schedule for tomorrow. I know about your appointment at ten with Claudine. What else is there?”

She narrowed her gaze. “No more questions, Striker. You’ve asked too many of them already,” she echoed. And then she strutted to her workroom and slammed the door shut.

Striker felt pressure seep into the back of his neck and he reached up to rub a knotted muscle there. Only for Roland would he put up with this kind of BS. If Margo thought she was calling the shots, then she was wrong.

Deciding it was time she knew that, he went after her.

* * *

MARGO JERKED AROUND when her workroom door flew open. Striker stood there with a fierce frown on his face, his arms across his chest and his legs braced. He was mad. So what? That was his problem and not hers.

“You have an issue with knocking?” She figured her words infuriated him even more, and from his expression, she saw they had.

“You stormed off like a child,” he snapped.

“Because you thought you could treat me like one,” she snapped back. “Do I look like a child to you?”

His eyes slowly moved over her and she felt heat flare in every inch of her body. “Well, do I?” she all but yelled, thinking he had inspected her enough. Her heart was thumping so hard that she could actually hear it.

“No. There’s nothing about you that resembles a child, but you’re certainly acting like one.”

Margo refused to go tit for tat with this man. If he wanted to throw his weight around, fine. She would simply ignore him. Sitting down to her desk, she focused on her computer screen.

Seconds ticked by and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her. She refused to look over at him for fear she would be tempted to check him out the way he’d checked her out moments ago.

“Stay away from the window.”

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

“And I still need your schedule for tomorrow.”

She’d lifted her head to tell him once again she didn’t intend to give him anything when her cell phone rang. She looked at it for a second.

“Do you recognize the caller, Margo?”

It was a local number. “No. But it could be a potential client.”

“Do potential clients have your cell phone number?”

Now that he’d asked, she shook her head.

He nodded. “Go ahead and answer it,” he said, pulling his own phone out of his pocket and speed-dialing a number.

Drawing in a deep breath, she clicked on her phone. “Yes?”

She heard someone breathing, but no one said anything. “Hello,” she said.

When the person still didn’t say anything, she looked over at Striker, who silently mouthed for her to hang up. A chill ran through her as she did so. “Wrong number, you think?” she asked.

“Possibly,” he said, checking the caller’s number on his cell phone.

Margo didn’t think Striker sounded convincing. “So who do you think it was?”

Before Striker could answer her question, his cell phone went off. “Yes, Stonewall?”

Margo wondered if that was the man’s real name or a code name or nickname, like Striker.

“Okay. Thanks.” He then clicked off the phone.

“Well?”

He glanced over at her. “Well, I’ll leave you alone to do what you came in here to do. Remember not to go near the window.” He closed the door behind him.

Striker walked over to the sofa and sat down. With his gaze holding steady on the closed workroom door, he speed-dialed Stonewall’s number. “Did you trace where the call came from?”

“Yes. It came from one of those prepaid phones. And the caller was at the Leesburg Mall.”

“And the name of the person who purchased the phone?”

“Not sure we’ll be able to narrow that down since the phone was a burner, paid for with cash. But we’re still checking things out anyway. Don’t be surprised if it was a wrong number.”

Striker drew in a deep breath. “Might have been, but for some reason, I don’t think so. Although we could hear the person breathing on the other end, they didn’t say anything.”

“Could have been they were surprised to hear her voice since she was not the person they were calling. Not everyone has manners enough to apologize when they misdial a number.”

Striker knew that was true, but there was something about the call that bothered him. The caller had held on too long for a miscall. “Still, let me know what you find out.”