Taking Control Read online

  Then something else triggered. “You said he asked for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Specifically by name?”

  “Yes.” A frown was forming between Jake’s brows. “You know this man?”

  “No,” she said quickly. Too quickly, and Jake’s frown deepened. She swallowed, then took a deep breath, wiped her palms down her thighs. She had to get out of there, get herself under control before she gave herself away. “I’ll go see if I can reallocate those jobs.” Without waiting for him to answer, she pushed herself up and headed for the door.

  “Are you okay?”

  Jake’s words halted her as she reached for the handle. She didn’t turn. “Why wouldn’t I be?” And she was out of there.

  Her mind hammered against her skull. Declan had asked for her. Why? And who’d shot him? His father had owned nightclubs and been into all sorts of dubious stuff. Maybe Declan had gone the same way. Though she doubted that. He’d always been a sanctimonious prick.

  And he’d asked for her.

  Bugger.

  She needed to hit something. Jake had installed a gym in the basement of the building and she headed down there. Just beat up the punching bag and get it out of her system. Even better, she met one of the other operatives on her way down in the elevator.

  “You going for a workout?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said eyeing her dubiously.

  She guessed she looked a little tense. “Good. I feel like beating the crap out of something. I was going to use the punching bag, but I’m guessing you’ll be much more satisfying.” Steve was six foot four and three years younger than her.

  Half an hour later and she was breathing hard, but not as hard as Steve. He leaned against the wall, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “Does this mean you like me?” he asked. “You wouldn’t beat up on me if you didn’t like me, right?”

  “Wrong.”

  “Come on, Jess. Admit it. Come out for a drink with me tonight.”

  “I don’t shit on my own doorstep.” Actually, she didn’t shit on anyone’s doorstep, but that was none of Steve’s business. “Besides, I’m betting you only asked because you want to win the wager.”

  She was quite aware the guys had a pool going on who could actually get her on a date. She could have told them to save their energy. Actually, she had told them, numerous times. It was never going to happen. While she was willing to go through with this whole looking-for-a-man thing, she wanted a nice man. Not one of the screwed-up adrenaline junkies who worked here.

  “Maybe,” Steve said. “But we’d be good together.”

  “No, we wouldn’t.” She was going to find herself an accountant or a lawyer.

  “You don’t like men very much, do you?”

  She curled the corner of her lip. “What’s there to like?” Okay, so that hadn’t been nice. Must try harder.

  “Your loss, but I hate to see such a beautiful woman end up dried up and alone.” He shrugged, but headed back to the changing rooms, leaving her with less than pleasant thoughts.

  She leaned back against the wall and slid down until she sat on the floor, hugging her knees. She’d always thought Steve a bit thick, but he was spot-on with this one. Dried up and alone.

  But she could change. She was trying. Christ, she’d even joined a dating agency. It wasn’t her fault all the men she had met so far had bored the pants off her. Well, actually, it was her fault; she had filled out the form for the dating agency after all. And she might as well have put “boring” on the necessary criteria. She made a mental note to tweak the form.

  Plus, she was the first to admit she had unresolved issues.

  Jake’s words came back to her. Could she let the past go? An image of Declan flashed up in her mind, all dark tousled hair and boyish good looks. Perhaps this was fate, and if she saw Declan after all these years, she’d no doubt find he was no different than any other man, just a boring businessman like Phil. And finally, she could cut the hatred from her mind, cauterize the wound, and start over, move on. After all, it hadn’t been all Declan’s fault. She had to take some of the blame. A tiny, tiny little bit of it.

  She pushed herself up and headed back to the changing rooms, pulled her phone from her bag, and hit Jake’s internal number before she could change her mind.

  “The McCabe job. Set up a meeting for tomorrow.”

  She ended the call before she could think any more. Thinking would not be good right now.

  Thinking would probably make her realize that this was a really bad idea.

  Chapter Two

  Something sharp stabbed repeatedly at the inside of his skull. Declan rested his head against the back of his chair, closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the pain.

  So far, he’d resisted taking any medication¸ wanting to keep his mind sharp, but now he pulled the small bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and swallowed two, washing them down with a gulp of water.

  Within minutes, he felt the effect, even the burn in his upper arm fading to numbness.

  But at least when he hurt he was feeling something.

  He hadn’t lived in London for over ten years, since the summer before he’d started Harvard. He’d thought the move back here might have eased his restlessness, but if anything it had increased.

  The boredom was what had led to the shooting in the first place. He could have kept out of the whole money-laundering thing, just handed the information to the police and he wouldn’t be sitting here now with a bullet hole in his arm, waiting to have a meeting with a bunch of bodyguards he didn’t want or need.

  He’d only agreed to this meeting because it was easier to get rid of the bodyguards than get rid of his father. No doubt he would hear from him soon enough, but he would deal with that then.

  The intercom on his desk buzzed, and he pressed it.

  “Your ten o’clock meeting is here,” Paul, his assistant, said.

  “Send them in.”

  He’d stayed the night in the hospital, but discharged himself first thing this morning. Now he had work to catch up on, and he meant to deal with this as quickly as possible.

  Then the door opened and for a moment, his world stopped.

  The strength drained from him, and the room went dim. He slumped back against his chair.

  “Declan,” Paul said. “Are you okay?”

  He blinked, shook his head. “Of course I’m okay.”

  His assistant frowned, but stepped to the side. “These are the people from Knight Security. Ms. Bauer and Mr. Grantham.”

  He ignored the man, his gaze fixed on the woman who stood slightly to the front.

  What the hell was she doing here?

  Maybe he was hallucinating. His mind felt sluggish, and he wished he hadn’t taken the pills. Except, he couldn’t really blame the painkillers. He was in shock. She was the last person he had expected to come through that door.

  Around five foot ten, she was tall for a woman, still model-slim in the black pantsuit. Beneath it, she wore a white button-down shirt and beneath that, he could make out the shape of her full breasts. He looked away quickly and up into her face.

  He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, a shock to match his own maybe, but her face was blank of expression. Of course, she would have known who she was coming to see. She would have prepared for this meeting. Would have had time to get the shock under control.

  Either that or she’d forgotten him totally. It had been over ten years.

  She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her platinum fall of hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing the perfect oval of her face, with its high cheekbones, midnight-blue eyes under arched brows, and her full mouth. God, he’d loved her mouth, the things she’d done with those lips…

  And shit, he shouldn’t be thinking about those lips. But it was too late; the blood had shot straight to his dick, and he shifted in his chair.

  Then his eyes settled on the scar,
a pale line that ran from just below her right eye over her cheek to the corner of her mouth. It pulled her upper lip slightly, giving her what looked like a permanent sneer. She hadn’t even attempted to hide it with makeup. In fact, now he looked, she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. Not even lipstick on her pink, full lips. But the scar didn’t detract from her looks; rather it emphasized the perfection of the rest of her.

  She was gazing at him out of those blue eyes with no hint of recognition, and he gritted his teeth. What the hell right did she have to forget him? Once she’d told him she’d love him forever. Of course, that was before he’d walked out on her, but all the same…

  “Declan?” It was Paul again, dragging him from his less than happy thoughts. His assistant appeared a little uncertain, probably wasn’t used to his boss behaving in such a shell-shocked manner.

  “I’m fine,” he said. He had inherited Paul from his father, who’d taken him on as part of an old debt—the details of which Declan was sure he was better off not knowing. And it wouldn’t surprise him if his assistant still reported back to his old boss. Declan hadn’t cared enough to check out the man’s loyalties, but he didn’t want Paul reporting to his dad that he was unwell. He’d probably have to deal with a nurse as well as a bodyguard. He picked up the pill bottle from the desk and shook it. “Painkillers just kicking in,” he said and Paul nodded.

  Rising to his feet, Declan fastened his jacket to hide the fact that he was already hard just from looking at her. “That will be all,” he said.

  After his assistant had left the room, closing the door behind him, Declan gestured to the seats in front of his desk.

  Her colleague came forward first, casting a sideways glance at Jess as he passed her as though she wasn’t behaving quite as expected. Maybe she wasn’t quite as composed as she appeared.

  He studied the man briefly. He was big, but from the fluid way he moved, Declan reckoned the bulk was all muscle. He looked ex-army, his sandy hair cut military short.

  “Mr. McCabe,” he said, coming to a halt in front of the desk and extending his hand. Declan took it then winced as pain shot through his arm.

  “Sorry,” Grantham said. “I hear you took a bullet yesterday, must be painful.”

  “A scratch, nothing more.”

  The man sat and Declan turned his attention back to Jess. She still stood just inside the doorway. As she caught his glance, she shook herself and took a few steps forward. Unlike her male comrade though, she didn’t hold her hand out for him to take, just sat in the seat and stared straight ahead. Her skin was pale, almost white, and a pulse beat in her throat. Definitely not as composed as she appeared, or wanted to appear.

  Good.

  He took his own seat, sat back, and pulled his shattered thoughts together. He’d planned to tell them they were not needed, and this changed nothing. They still weren’t needed. He had no use for a bodyguard, and he certainly had no wish for Jess to jump in front of a bullet for him. Anyway, she’d probably be more likely to shoot him herself.

  “I’m afraid your journey has been wasted. I won’t be needing your services. I will of course pay for your time.” He watched her closely as he spoke, not quite sure what response he expected or even wanted. Maybe it was better that she had forgotten him. If she had.

  Of course, there was always the chance that she was just acting. Maybe she recognized him—how the fuck could she not?—but she wanted to avoid rehashing old times.

  The man beside her frowned. “Has the…situation been resolved? I was under the impression we were needed until the court case.”

  “No, but I don’t require a bodyguard,” Declan said. “I’ll take precautions. I can look after myself.”

  Jess snorted. He turned his attention to her as she raised one arched brow. “Well, you’re certainly doing a good job so far. And could you not have phoned up and canceled the meeting, Mr. McCabe?” Her tone was cool, bordering on insolent. “As a professional courtesy. Or don’t you think the people you employ deserve courtesy?”

  “I promised my father I would see you, and I have.”

  For the first time, shock flashed across her features, her eyes narrowing, a frown forming between her brows. She was astonishingly beautiful, he’d forgotten just how stunning she was—well not so much forgotten as pushed the knowledge from his mind. Now his brain flooded with memories of her, dancing, her hair wild about her face, drinking shots, daring him to match her, lying beneath him, her eyes almost black with passion as she fell apart for him. Shit. He needed to stop thinking like this. He needed to get his head together.

  But however much he would like to deny it, a deep, slow burn of excitement was starting low down in his belly. He wanted to push her, make her acknowledge him, but maybe not just yet. First, he needed to pull himself together. Whatever happened next, he planned to be in control of it.

  “Your father arranged this?” Jess said, and he could hear the disbelief in her voice and something else.

  He gave a bland smile. “He worries about me. He has my best interests at heart.”

  “I bet he does,” she muttered, and this time her comrade did turn to look at her.

  “Do we have a problem here, Jess?”

  Declan shot a glance at the other man. He didn’t like the familiar way he addressed Jessica. They obviously knew each other well. How well?

  “Of course we don’t have a problem,” Jess said. Her tone should have been conciliatory instead, it was…sarcastic. “Mr. McCabe is the one with the problem,” she continued. “Someone wants him dead, but I’m sure that’s not a first. Probably lots of people have wanted Mr. McCabe dead. But as he said, he’s a big boy, and he can look after himself. And if not, I’m sure his daddy can do it for him.”

  God, she was a bitch. He liked it.

  Her colleague obviously gave up at that point. He relaxed back in his seat arms folded across his chest and watched them.

  “Tell me, Mr. Grantham, what’s your background?” Declan waved a hand toward Jess to include her in the question. How the hell had she become involved in security work? He would have thought it was the last type of career she would pursue. Really, he couldn’t imagine her settling down to any job—she’d been too wild. But she must be good, otherwise why would his father have employed the company—he only employed the best. He couldn’t have known Jess worked for them. No way would his father throw them together again, when he’d gone to such lengths to push them apart.

  “I’m ex-army,” Grantham said. “We both are.”

  Army?

  No way. His disbelief must have shown because Grantham continued. “Most of the employees at Knight Security have a military background.”

  He wanted to ask more but it would look weird. He’d get a security check run on her once they’d left. He intended to discover everything about what Jessica Bauer was up to right now. Had she orchestrated this meeting? Maybe she’d had him shot herself, so he’d need a bodyguard… His mind raced ahead of itself, making up more and more far-fetched conspiracy theories.

  Jess looked bored now. Staring out of the window, she tapped her foot on the ground, but a small tic twitched in the side of her cheek. She turned her head slightly and looked him in the face. “Are we done here?”

  As she rose to her feet, her jacket swung open, and he caught sight of the shoulder holster and pistol nestled under her arm. Shit, she was for real. Why did the idea of Jess and a gun together make a shiver of apprehension run through him?

  Because she hated him. She’d told him so at their last meeting in no uncertain terms. Shouted the words from her hospital bed as he’d turned and walked away from her.

  “Mr. McCabe,” Grantham said. “I think you should reconsider this. Maybe you aren’t feeling quite yourself. You could be in shock from the shooting yesterday.”

  Oh, he was in shock all right. But not from the shooting. “If I come to my senses, I’ll be sure to call.”

  Jess gave a tight smile. “That will be nice. We’ll l
ook forward to it.” She turned to Grantham. “Come on, Dave, let’s not waste anymore of Mr. McCabe’s valuable time. I’m sure he has important bits of paper to play with.”

  Grantham was back to frowning. He glanced from Declan to Jess and back again, but then gave a shrug. “I think you’re making a mistake. But what do I know.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand. Declan stood as well and shook it. “Call us if you change your mind.”

  He sat back down as he watched them walk away. Jess moved with a long stride, her hands shoved in the pockets of her pants, her ponytail swinging. Her hair was longer than it used to be; he was guessing loose it would touch her ass.

  An image of that ass naked flashed up in his mind. Smooth and perfect and pointing up at him, thighs parted so he could see the damp blond curls peeking out. His dick twitched. Then the image was overlaid with another memory, and before he could think it was a bad idea, he called out to her, “Jess.”

  About to open the door, she stopped short—maybe it was the use of her first name—and turned slowly. Her eyes were narrowed. “What?”

  He grinned. “Do you still have the tattoo?”

  Chapter Three

  “Fucking asshole,” Jess muttered and slammed the door behind her.

  Whirling around, she reached for the door handle, meaning to go back in there and find just what he was playing at.

  “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Dave asked from beside her.

  “No.” She forced her hand back to her side. No way was she going back until she had cooled down.

  “Come on, Jess. I wouldn’t say you have the best of attitudes with clients, but even for you that was over the top.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him to mind his own bloody business, then snapped it closed again. It was his business, but that didn’t mean she was going to tell him anything. What could she tell him anyway? She had no clue what was going on. “He started it.”

  Dave’s lips twitched. “What are we, kindergarten children?”