I don’t feel right leaving Kenna alone.
The sense of something wrong lingers, this weight in my gut – and that weight is slewed toward my house and the girl in it and the feeling I'm a fucking fool for not being there.
What if something happens? What if she needs protection?
I pound my fist on the wheel. The loud, jarring thump brings me out of it.
It’s nerves, probably. I’m still too keyed up after the fire. Still in animal mode, reacting on pure instinct.
There's no reason I should worry.
She’s got the security system, the cops, and Riker, the guy I left behind to do patrols. He was one of the first I hired for Enguard, and I’d trust him with my own blood.
If I had much family left, other than Steve, that is.
Hell, he's so close he might as well be my brother.
Except that would make Kenna my sister, and the deep hungry pull in my gut doesn’t see that woman in an ewww-family way at all.
Ten years ago, yeah.
Now?
Sweet fuck. I wish she hadn’t grown up so much.
My dick springs to life, tormenting me a few miles, remembering how I walked in on her underdressed this morning. Her hair was tossed around, like she'd just lifted it off the pillow, and seeing that hair in its wild, natural state makes me think terrible things.
Far too close to how I imagine her chestnut mess would look in my fist. After I've left her lush body crawling up my bed. The sass, the tension, the hate-love curdling the air between us thoroughly railed out of her.
My balls throb. They're turning half-blue with unquenchable need when another sound chirps in the car.
My Bluetooth dash light flicks on with an incoming call.
The disquiet thrumming through me turns into irritation. My whole car – a late-model Impala that’s pure Dean from Supernatural – is networked so I can handle work hands-free on the go, and the radio LED doubles as caller ID, flashing with a familiar number and the name Reese, Dallas.
Fucking Dallas.
It’s no coincidence the second half of his name rhymes with 'ass.'
I’m tempted not to answer it. But there’s an old sense of loyalty to my father’s former company, a sense of duty, that says I’d better.
Besides, with Dallas as my main competition, I might as well stay on top of his antics just so I’m not caught blindsided if he tries to steal Milah out from under me.
I press the dash button to activate the in-car speaker, then settle my hands back on the ten and two on the steering wheel.
“What?”
“You could at least say hello,” Dallas' smooth voice echoes across the speaker, a smirk in his tone.
“You’re the second person to say that to me in twenty-four hours. Again, what?”
“Really, Landon?” He clucks his tongue. “I was just calling to see if you were all right.”
The bullshit concern in his voice takes me back to an earlier time. Dallas, standing on my parents' porch, shortly after my old man's funeral. His flimsy hand on my shoulder, a hand I never asked for, because he was the last asshole on earth I wanted sympathy from.
Not a memory I want. Or need.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I heard you had a little trouble at your place. Something about a fire?”
I narrow my eyes at the road. “How the hell do you know about that?”
“One of my team doubles as a volunteer firefighter. Word gets around. Frankly, I’m just glad you’re all right. Lighten up, pal.”
“Sure you are,” I snarl, my throat turning into sandpaper.
“You sure have a talent for sarcasm, Landon.” Dallas sighs, throwing it back at me. “Unfortunately, I did feel it was my civic duty to inform Miss Holly’s team of the mishap. Business, you understand? In the event that you were indisposed and she needed a fallback –”
“Civic duty,” I bark back, teeth clenched so hard my entire face hurts. “Fuck you. If you had anything to do with that fire –”
“Oh, come on! Must you be so suspicious? Have you ever thought I was trying to help you, Landon? This entire thing could've been arranged like gentlemen. So you were the reliable party who set up the fallback, ensuring Miss Holly was well cared for. Client satisfaction.”
“While you get the fat paycheck, you mean.” I'm so not in the mood for this.
“It’s not about the money! How many times do I have to keep saying it?” He always sounds so calm, so smooth, every answer as prepared as a slick-dick politician’s speech, and I hate it. “It’s about your reputation. Enguard's reputation, I mean. Even if you’re no longer with Crown Security, I can’t help taking an interest in what you’re doing. We're friends in the same industry. Quite a few people take an interest in what you’re doing, you know. You’re a person of interest now – and everyone in private security is watching and waiting for you to slip up on a job that’s too big for your little outfit to handle.”
Too big for me to handle?
I bet finding Dallas and wringing his fucking neck would give his sense of size a whole new meaning.
This smug, shitty asshole, pretending to actually give a damn about me or my company or my reputation –
But he’s still talking. He’s always talking.
Fucker treats the sound of his own voice like music.
“When it’s too much for you,” he says, “there’s always a place for you at Crown. I hope you know it. Your father would've wanted it that way. He’d never have wanted you to lone wolf it, to leave the company he worked so hard to build.”
There's a long, arrogant pause. Here it comes.
“Landon? Tell me one thing: why can’t we just bury bad blood and work together? Partners?”
Not in this lifetime. Not in the next ten.
“Because I don’t work with fucking vultures,” I spit. “Fuck you, fuck Crown Security, and fuck the idea that you and I could ever work together. I'm not your friend, Dallas. And you weren't mine, even though you did a damn good job getting under my skin after dad was buried, and you thought I was all busted up, needing a shoulder to cry on. Go fuck yourself. I’d rather choke on glass than work with you.”
“You'll certainly choke on that overgrown ego of yours if you’re not careful.” Smug piece of shit. There's always a comeback. “Remember, Miss Holly has a reputation for litigation. Not to mention, the star power – and funding – to eat you alive in court. Screw up, and you’ll lose more than a contract. You’ll lose –”
“My patience with this conversation,” I interrupt. “Get to the point. Whatever you really called for, Dallas. Because it wasn’t to play ‘whose dick is bigger.’ We outgrew that years ago.”
“Am I really so transparent?” He sighs. At least when he speaks, this time, it doesn’t sound mocking and trite; it sounds tired, and genuinely so. “Look, I’m not comfortable talking about this on an unsecured line, but we should meet soon.”
I go still. There’s only ever one thing Dallas wants to meet in person about. My entire body tingles with tension. It's too good to be true, especially when it's the very thing he holds over me, baiting my sorry ass into taking more of his calls. “You’ve got new intel?”
“Possibly. New details the police hadn’t released before. It’s best if we discuss it in person, Landon. You know that.”
“Fine. When I get back from Sonoma. I'll call.”
“Lovely. I really think we might be close to a break this time.”
“That’s what you’ve said every time.” It’s the closest to polite I can manage to be with him, when one more word will have me seeing red. My hands are aching, my knuckles white, from how hard I’m gripping the steering wheel, and if I’m not careful I’m going to swerve off the road just trying to unclench. “I’m driving and can’t talk, Dallas. Gotta go.”
He makes a sound that doesn’t quite become a word before I slam the dash button, ending the call.
Shit. the last thing I need when I’ve got Kenna on my mind and in my house is Dallas planting seeds of doubt.
I’ve got this, though.
I’ve got this, and I don’t need a massive security company behind me to make it work. Smaller is better. Lean. Tough. Focused.