RISK (7 page)

Nolan

"They're a real life roleplay." Crew dips the tip of a plastic spoon in the ice cream. "He's the big, bad Wolf and she's little red…"
              "Jesus Christ," I spit out. "Shut up, Crew. I don't want to hear it."

"You're the one who brought them up." He drops the spoon on the counter. "What flavor is this? It's disgusting."

I place the cover back on the ice cream and shove it in the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. "It's blue bubble gum. Not my first choice obviously, but you know."

"Your lips are blue. How much of this shit did you eat before I got here?"

"A few spoons," I lie, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I ate half the fucking pint while I considered adding an Adele song to the playlist on my phone. It shouldn't bother me that Ellie is hanging out with another man tonight, but it does.

Once I reached the doorway of Cremza, I turned to see her looking up at Liam with awe in her eyes and a smile on her lips. That look should be reserved for me. I want to own that look.

"You're going to feel that later, pal." Crew leans against the counter. "We know the guy fucking Ellie."

Anger knots in my gut. The slow and steady burn of frustration takes root around it. I don't need to hear the words aloud. It's all I've thought about since I left Ellie's side. Liam will taste the hint of peppermint that's always on her breath.  She'll undress for him, tempting him with each inch of her skin that's exposed. It's his body that she'll cling to when an orgasm rushes through her. That fucker will have everything I want if he hasn't already.

I would have stayed and put a halt to all of it, but I needed to be here. I had to be here.

"I don't know him, Crew. I've never seen him before."

"He's Nick's brother."

"Nick who? Nick Wolf? The guy from high school?"

"The guy who is burning up every bestseller list known to man." He reaches in the fridge for a bottle of water. "One of his books was optioned by a studio in Los Angeles. He's a big deal."

Nicholas Wolf went to high school with us. We didn't hang out often. When we were partying and planning for college, he was submitting short stories to the school's annual anthology.

It paid off in spades for him. His series of detective novels has taken the world by storm. You can't turn a corner without someone talking about his latest book release.

"What about Liam?" I tug my phone from my pocket. "What's his deal?"

Crew's already on it. His fingers are skipping over his phone's screen. "All his social network accounts are locked up tight. They're as private as Ellie's are. I can hand this off to Kristof. He'll have a full file on your desk in the morning. Just give me the word although, for the record, I'm still one hundred percent against you pursuing Ellie."

Kristof Hellaman used to hold a high ranking position in the FBI before I lured him away. I needed his expertise to solve my own personal whodunit a few years ago. He wasn't successful but he proved his loyalty. Since then, he's been on retainer, never more than a phone call away if I need a background check or an extra set of eyes on me when I travel. He's a valuable part of my team, and he's paid accordingly.

"Between you and me." I pause to circle my finger in the air. "Kristof brought me next to nothing on Ellie."

He chuckles, resting both his hands on the counter behind him. "Kristof brought you all there is on Ellie. You can't accept the fact that the last address he traced her to back then was in Boston."

The street address listed for Ellie Madden's mother more than a decade ago doesn't exist now. The tenement was torn down by a developer itching to build a suite of condos to lure people to Boston's old West End. It worked.

I co-invested with Crew in a pair of office buildings in that area spearheaded by a friend of my father, and the returns have been consistently healthy. Residential dwellings, beyond those in my own portfolio, aren't a magnet for my money. Commercial buildings have always proven to be my golden ticket.

"It's not about Kip." I scrub the back of my neck.

"You asked me not to mention Kip to Kristof." His voice takes on a serious tone. "I haven't, though I've never understood your reluctance to get him involved. She wouldn't even know you're looking for her and if he finds her, at least, you'll know she's all right."

I've always used the same excuse when Crew has suggested we get Kristof to trace Kip's tracks. I tell him that it would be a waste of my money. The details we have are so vague that it would be impossible to find her. 

I never knew her real name.  She didn't offer, and I stopped pressing for it after asking twice and getting only a shrug of her shoulder in response.

I first saw her walking a small, shaggy brown dog on Broadway and Fifty Second Street as the matinee of a musical ended and theater goers flooded the sidewalk around us. She dipped her head and dodged through the crowd, bumping into me and then steadying herself with a torn glove covered hand on my forearm.

I looked down at a petite curly haired girl wearing a worn red varsity jacket with the name Kip sewn onto the shoulder with black thread. Where a circular white snap should have been on the front, a piece of rusted wire pierced the frayed wool. It was woven through the hole left by the missing snap and tied into an uneven, loose knot to keep the mid-section closed. The jacket was at least four sizes too big for her, but it sheltered her from the bitter bite of the cold that winter.

To Kip, I was Rigs. It was the name she heard my grandfather calling out to me when the light turned to cross Broadway. He was in a rush to get home after our lunch in mid-town on that Sunday afternoon in December. I stood in place as she mumbled an apology after touching me. She looked up into my lean adolescent face with the sparse growth of beard dotting my jaw and the rebellious long hair that fell into my eyes. Then she smiled and with a pull of the leash, she sprinted toward Eighth Avenue with the barking dog on her heel. They disappeared into the rush of people heading back to the warmth of their homes or hotels.

It was one of the few times she ever smiled at me.

A week later I was back in the same spot with a brand new pair of red gloves in my hand for her.

"We can kill two birds with one stone, pal." Crew finishes the last of the water in the bottle. "I'll get Kristof to check out Liam Wolf and I'll tell him what we know about Kip. The trail on her is cold, but he's a fucking genius. He'll Sherlock Holmes the shit out of it and you can finally put this to rest."

If Kristof starts poking around in the past he's going to uncover what happened the last time I saw Kip. That will jeopardize my future. As much as I want to know how she is after making it through the hell storm of that night and finding her way out the other side, I can't risk exposing my part in it.

"Don't call Kristof," I say evenly. "We both know that finding Kip is impossible. We know nothing about her. You're right. It's time to drop it."

He shoots me a look that I've seen before. He knows I'll drop it until I see another redhead with blue eyes. Once that happens, the questions will start all over again. It's a never-ending Ferris Wheel of my own misery that I finally need to step off of for good. 

She survived that night. That's all that matters. I have to let it go.

"What about Wolf?"

I respond almost immediately. "Don't waste Kristof's time. I'll find out everything I need to know about him from Ellie tomorrow."

Then I'll do everything I can to make her forget him.

Ellie

"What's the deal with you and Wolf?" Crew asks as he picks up a tube of pale pink lip balm.

I look at him first before I lock eyes with Nolan. "You don't strike me as the type of man who gossips."

He chuckles deeply with a faint shake of his head. "I assure you I'm not. Crew and I went to high school with Liam's brother. I mentioned seeing him last night to Crew."

Embarrassment wages war with disappointment in the pit of my stomach. I feel my cheeks heat. Of course, that would be it. Why would Nolan care if I was hooking up with another man? He had every chance to stay at Cremza to yank my attention his way. It wouldn't have even taken a yank. A faint tug and I would have been focused solely on him.

He walked away, though. He introduced himself to Liam and then he took off.

"From what I remember, he's a good guy." Crew glances at the line of customers waiting to pay for their purchases. "A big guy too. If he needs a job, you have the go-ahead to hire him to join our security team."

"I'm sure Liam has a job," Nolan comments under his breath. 

"I can ask him when I have dinner with him tomorrow," I say, leaving out the important detail that Adley, and all her good intentions, invited both Liam and Randy to our apartment for one of her home cooked meals. It's an ill-thought-out effort on her part to impress Randy. He mentioned not having a decent meal in weeks, and she was quick to offer up her spaghetti and what, I think, are meatballs.

It's my chance to get to know them both better since I left Cremza ten minutes after Nolan did. Wolf didn't seem to mind. Two other women had already stopped to talk to him before I finished explaining that I was too tired to hang out.

"You're having dinner with him?" Nolan asks coolly, his eyes buried in his phone.

"That's the plan. He's coming over to my place."

That's enough to not only grab his full attention; it also perks his left brow. "You just met him, Ellie. Do you think it's wise to invite him into your home?"

"I'll frisk him before I let him in."

Crew gets a chuckle out of that. "I've got a meeting across town in thirty. I'm heading out. We'll approve the new cameras, and you can set up an install time, Ellie."

I smile. When they stopped in, unannounced, five minutes ago I knew it was to discuss the cameras. I'd called Nolan's assistant, Eda, this morning asking for a meeting with him and Crew. The new cameras are small and unassuming. The viewing range will cover the entire sales floor. Also, their design will fit in flawlessly with the lights already in place in the stock room. I know that employee theft is a huge problem and I want to pin the culprit to the wall.

"I appreciate that, Crew."

"I'm considering pocketing this." He looks down at the lip balm. "There's not a lot of color to this, is there?"

"There's a selection of lip balms just for men on the back wall." I point to a display that one of the sales staff spent hours perfecting. "Those don't have any color at all and the packaging is more masculine."

"I had a hand in launching that line," he says with a smile. He rolls the lip balm over in his palm. "I had someone else in mind for this one."

"Who?"

Nolan's question raises Crew's left brow. He stares at him before he finally answers. "My niece."

"She's too young for that," Nolan shoots back quickly. "Besides, she'll appreciate your gifts more if you don't have one in your hand every time you see her."

"Good point." Crew nods, setting the lip balm back.

"Thank you again for trusting in my decisions, Crew." I grin.

"You're the expert." He checks his watch. "I'm confident that you're going to curb theft in this store and then we'll move ahead on implementing your changes in all our stores in the city, and eventually nationwide."

It's a huge testament to his belief in me. He can't know how much I value that.

I turn toward Nolan as Crew exits the store. "Is that all? I should get back to work. One of the other guards is due to take their coffee break."

"That can wait. I need you to come up to my office with me." His hand reaches for my elbow. His grip is firm, yet tender. The whisper of something unrelated to discussions about security cameras and scheduled staff breaks is there.

I breathe in the scent of his cologne. Matiz for Men. I recognize the subtle undertone of white musk and cedar. Beneath it is the fragrance of his skin. He smells as good as he looks. "It will only take fifteen minutes, Nolan. I can meet you up there as soon as I'm done."

"You'll come with me now." His touch is more insistent. "It's important, Ellie, and it's not a request."

Which means it's an order.

An order unrelated to his store or the employees who are now milling about, sudden exuberance in their voices as they greet customers.  His presence is feeding their movements. Their drive to impress him is obvious.

The slight change in the tempo of his breathing gives him away. As do his fingers as they press into my bare flesh as a female customer stands near us, spellbound by our unspoken exchange.

I knead my hands together. "I'll come."

The irony of the words isn't lost on me, or on him. That familiar flash of triumph in his gaze is quickly replaced with a hunger I haven't seen there before. It's a bold and unapologetic hunger for me.

***

"I'm not a complicated man," he says with a sigh.

Is he serious?

He runs the largest cosmetics company in the United States with a keen eye on global expansion. His family's fortune has punctuated New York's highest society for decades, yet his personal life is incredibly private. I should know. I searched his name online and the results were bone bare.

I glance over my shoulder to where he's standing near his office door. He sent his assistant to get a folder from marketing. She had to ask twice if he was sure he needed to see the hard copy for a lipstick ad that ran in a national magazine three years ago. He insisted, she questioned again and finally she left. That's when he closed the door to his office before he slid his suit jacket from his shoulders.

"You strike me as a very complicated man," I reply honestly.

"Do I now?"

I watch as he meticulously rolls up one sleeve of his dress shirt and then the other. The result is an unobstructed view of his muscular forearms. My eyes flick across his skin before they settle on his face. "You do, yes."

He tugs on the front of his black pants before he lowers himself in the chair next to me. I anticipated him being in the chair behind his desk where he sits all day as he makes decisions that impact the lives of each and every one of his employees, including me. He's close now. Almost too close given the fact that I still have no idea why I'm here.

"You're wrong, Ellie." His gaze travels over the green skirt and white blouse I'm wearing before it lands directly on my face. "My life is simple. I need very few things."

"What things do you need, Nolan?"

"I need a good bottle of cabernet, a steak cooked to perfection and a beautiful redhead to share them with."