The Fixer (Games People Play #1)

The answer didn’t make much sense. He glanced at his watch. “That was a long dinner.”

“Dad dropped me off at Caroline’s house after because that’s where I told him I was staying. I’ve been visiting with her for an hour or so.” When Wren started to question, Emery talked right over him. “Don’t ask about the staying-over thing. It’s a long story.”

“We’ll come back to that. How was dinner with Dad?” Wren couldn’t imagine having more than three words for his father—go to hell. No need for a long, drawn-out meal. Wren doubted he could choke down food if he ever saw the man again or had to sit across from him at a table.

No, watching from a distance was good enough. So long as his father followed the rules and didn’t stray outside of a hundred mile area in Belize, exactly where Wren dumped him all those years ago with little money and under the threat of killing him if he tried to come back to the US. There, he got to live his broken life. All alone. It killed Wren to let his father live, but he promised Quint he would stick to this plan. Something about how it was a better solution because it punished his father and saved Wren’s soul.

“I would describe the night as trying,” she said.

Keys jingled in the background and the thump of footsteps echoed on the line. The woman never stopped moving. He smiled as he leaned back in his chair and balanced his shoes on the edge of his desk. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Is that a modified version of asking me what I’m wearing?”

The lightness in her voice eased the tension of his long day. “You should feel free to answer that question first.”

“Nice try.” Her voice faded out as a sound that suggested she was fumbling with the phone came over the line. “Walking into my building.”

She called before she was even home. He didn’t hate that. “Are Keith and Stan with you?”

“I would have to know who those two people are to be able to answer the question.”

Now she was just playing with him. No way did she keep from asking her unwanted shadows their names. Hell, she probably knew before he did because he hadn’t bothered to ask Garrett until two nights ago. “The men stationed outside your house.”

She’d refused to accept the bodyguards. Wouldn’t even talk about it when he called this afternoon and told her they’d continue to follow at a comfortable distance. Also told her good luck losing them. She’d hung up on him.

“Ah, yes. Them.”

He could almost hear her roll her eyes. “I told you I was keeping them on duty.”

“That’s not heavy-handed at all.”

Her spirit reeled him in and drove him mad. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had him spinning and changing his schedule and offering up his name. Then there was the following-her-around thing. That one was downright embarrassing. “I thought I was being fairly thoughtful in not insisting they come inside and sleep on your couch.”

She snorted. “Never going to happen, but good thing they sort of blend into the neighborhood with that impressive dark sedan because I have no idea how I would have explained their presence to my dad.”

Since she wasn’t exactly fighting him about protection, Wren took it as a sign she didn’t hate the idea. She might be independent and strong, but she was also smart. Someone got too close to her place the other night. He’d been prepared to press his point and argue about this, but he wasn’t sure he had to.

But there was an issue he did want to discuss. “How about saying, ‘Dad, the guy I’m sleeping with assigned bodyguards to me’? Or is that too much?”

“Sure, that sounds like something I’d say to my father.” The laughter moved back into her voice. “And, as you pointed out, we haven’t actually slept together yet.”

Speaking of things he’d rather talk about . . . “You mean haven’t had sex, because we did actually nod off for about an hour after the oral.”

She sighed loud enough to blow out his eardrums. “Yes, Levi. Sex.”

“I can come over right now and fix that for us.” If she said yes he’d break the sound barrier getting to her.

“Subtle.”

Not exactly the answer he wanted. “You need to stop thinking I intend to be subtle.” They’d get back to the idea of sex and a visit, but first he needed one issue settled for the night. “Are you inside the apartment yet?”

“In a second.” The keys jangling grew louder. “Keep your pants on.”

Not the phrase any man longed to hear. “Do you mean that?”

“Not even a little.”

“I can be there in—”

“Oh, my God!” Her voice broke into his then choked off. For that second, fear vibrated in her tone. A thud and then something like racing footsteps sounded in the background. “Not again.”

“Emery?” Wren jackknifed and his feet hit the floor. “What is it?”

“My apartment . . . I don’t . . .” Her words stammered and her breathing came out in short staccato puffs.

“Inhale.” His hand curled around the cell and tightened until the plastic dug into his palm. Panic flooded through him. He hadn’t felt the sensation in so long that he barely recognized it. “Talk to me.”

Helenkay Dimon's books