Knights of the Boardroom (14 page)

Rolling her gently to her side, he unbuttoned the shirt and slipped it off without waking her. Standing beside the bed gazing down on Cressida as she slept, Brodie was shocked at how complete he felt for the first time in years. Everything about her intrigued him, her sense of humor, her ability to see the larger issues even when she easily dissected the details of a contract, and her unfailing loyalty to her sister. When he looked up, Lawton was looking at her with the same expression of wonder and gratitude Brodie suspected was painted over his own face. He might not attend church regularly, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the blessing laying in front of him.

“I hate it that she’s not feeling well, but I’m damned glad Parker saw her.”

“It scares me to death to think what might have happened to her. If she had passed out in that store she’d have ended up in the hospital and no one would have been there for her. We have to make sure we’re listed in her phone as her ICE contacts.” Brodie smiled because Lawton was always reminding people to use their technology for practical purposes as well as entertainment. Having their numbers programmed in to Cressida’s phone as her
in case of emergency
contacts was definitely better than her sister who was so often out of the country.

“Let’s get some sleep. We have a sub to begin training tomorrow and I don’t want either of us to risk saying something wrong—again.” Brodie saw his friend cringe before he nodded. Cressida sighed contentedly and curled up against him without ever opening her eyes, and for the first time in years, Brodie was able to fall asleep almost immediately.

Parker spent all night and most of the next day hitting dead-end after dead-end trying to back trace the man emailing Cressida Walker. At one point it had become a question of who was chasing who when he realized he was being pinged as well. By the time he’d finally managed to shake the shadow—the asshat had managed to tap into another backdoor of T.E.G.’s secure server costing Parker several additional hours of time.
The fucker is slick, I’ll give him that.

Not only did Parker feel like he’d spent eighteen hours chasing his tail—he still hadn’t managed to identify the man. What he had discovered was the guy had also been tracking Cressida’s older sister, Carli. From what he’d seen, it appeared his monitoring was part of his fascination with Cressida. Oddly enough he’d had a plethora of information at his fingertips about one of the most photographed women in the world, but he’d forgone it all to highjack only those pieces that pertained to or involved Cressida, including pictures the paparazzi had snapped of the two women together.

So far, Parker’s attempts to warn Carli hadn’t been successful—not that he was particularly surprised, the woman was a nightmare to contact. He might be managing her security detail, but she’d been clear that she didn’t feel his help was necessary and therefore she wouldn’t be a “slave to his obsessive-compulsive safety issues.”
God, the woman would send the Pope himself into a fit of rage.
He’d placed a call to her agent instructing the man who shadowed Cressida on all her trips to contact him by voice call only. There was no way he’d discuss these concerns via text or email—both of Carli’s preferred ways of dealing with him were off the table for the foreseeable future.

Parker was not at all pleased to learn Ms. I-know-more-than-my-security-team was still not using the secure phone he’d set up for her. When he’d given it to her, she’d protested claiming she just recently mastered the phone she was using before dropping the device he meticulously programed for her into the gargantuan bag she called a purse. He’d looked the leather monstrosity over in an attempt to find the American Tourister label, certain it was a piece of luggage rather than an accessory of choice for one of the world’s leading fashion icons. The glare she’d given him let him know she evidently hadn’t gotten the memo about clutches being all the rage. So much for making sure the phone he’d gotten her was slim enough to fit in the smaller bags he’d assumed she carried. Hell, she’d be lucky to ever see the damned phone again if it settled at the bottom of her luggage bag—the damned thing should have had rollers on the bottom.

Before Parker flipped the switch to darken the screen he’d been staring at far too long, he noticed the small alert blinking in the corner. Sitting back down he opened the program and swore, “You son-of-a-bitch.” Without ever looking down at his phone, he dialed the man who’d been his best friend since their freshman year of college. Parker always marveled that a man who was so cultured and socially adept could, at the same time, harbor such an abhorrence for talking on the telephone.

“What?”

“Would it kill you to say hello?”

“Probably not. What do you want?”

“Your membership files have been compromised.” Parker’s pronouncement was met with a long moment of silence and he knew Tristan well enough to simply wait. Tristan Harris might appear to be the picture of suave perfection, but the man was the very definition of intense. The first time Parker met his best friend’s parents he’d have been convinced Tristan was adopted if he and his father hadn’t looked so much alike. In fact, they actually looked more like brothers than father and son, something Parker found remarkable—it was like the man had simply stopped aging at forty.

William and Mary Elizabeth Harris were as carefree and effervescent as their son was intense and contemplative, a fact they chided their only child about at every opportunity. Parker loved visiting them and had made the trip numerous times over the years. They’d shown him some of the best London had to offer and of course their royal connections ensured they’d been able to show him places many tourists never got to see.

Tristan’s voice cut short Parker’s stroll down memory lane, “Do you know who? Or how?”

“Working on it. I found it while trying to trace a problem here at T.E.G. The only reason I even started looking was because the man appears to have become obsessed with Cressida Walker.”

“Fuck. Is she safe? Has she been able to shed any light on the situation?” The vehemence in Tristan’s voice wasn’t really a surprise—the man had earned the nickname Sir Lancelot in more ways than one. Tristan Harris was every sub’s knight in shining armor at the first sign of trouble.

“Not yet, she’d been ill, but I think she’ll be well enough for me to interview tomorrow.” After giving Tristan a brief rundown on how things had played out, he added, “Right now I’m headed back to my place. I’m wiped. I’ll get some sleep and then see about talking to her. I’ve already sent someone over to pick up a few things for her and secure her place. I’ve also contacted Kyle West, he’s sending me one of the tracking bracelets they’ve used with his wife and mother.” Parker had known the West brothers since they’d been kids and he appreciated his friends’ input and offers to help when he’d called them earlier. Parker knew about the specialized jewelry they’d made for Tobi and Lilly because Lawton had helped with the technological aspects, and he was grateful they’d offered to send everything so quickly.

“Why would someone who is stalking Cressida tap into the club when she hadn’t made any contact until recently?”

“I don’t know for sure, but her obvious connection to us might be a part of it. I have been going through her computer looking for clues, but I haven’t gotten far—the damned thing is so old it actually clunks and whirls when processing commands. I swear the thing is continually debating whether or not to spit out the answer. Probably a fucking bird in there with a hammer and chisel tapping out shit on a stone tablet.” Silence on the other end reminded Parker that Tristan hadn’t been raised in the United States so pop culture references like the one he’d just made to
The Flintstones
almost always left Tristan completely bewildered. “Never mind…Christ, I always forget your pansy British ass is clueless about important shit like cartoons.”

“Fuck you. You shouldn’t have been watching the telly anyway, it’s obviously contributed to you being a thickie.”

“True enough, though it’s probably unfair to blame television for my lower than average intelligence.” Parker knew without even being able to see his friend, that Tristan had rolled his eyes, which Parker considered a win. Tristan often slipped into British slang in what Parker considered a “baffle them with bullshit” move, so he’d learned early on to make a point to let his friend know he was fully aware of what he was saying. Parker ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Whoever he is, he got in well before Cressida called you, so I’m hoping like hell she can shed some light on the situation for me.”

“What could his motive be? If he’s after T.E.G. secrets, why take the risk of getting into our system? And if he’s chasing the shadows and secrets of club members, he’s taking an even greater risk getting into T.E.G. Not to mention going after our members would be like setting yourself on fire in the middle of Rockefeller Center, you’ll get a lot of attention but in the end you’re still going to be burned to a crisp.” Parker wanted to roll his eyes, Tristan’s British sense of humor was often lost on people who didn’t know him well.

“Seriously, he must be more than a bit daft if he hadn’t done his homework and discovered her interest in the lifestyle. How did they meet, some fucking chatroom?” Tristan might have been speaking sarcastically, but Parker felt as if his friend had just pulled back thick drapes that had been blocking his view of the problem. The damned Brit had just exposed the whole thing to the light of day and the harsh reality that it brings into view.

Straightening in his chair, Parker responded with renewed interest, “That would go a long way to explain things, particularly if he fancies himself as a sexual Dominant.” The more Parker considered it, the more likely it seemed. The possibility that Cressida had used chatrooms as a resource when she’d been curious about the lifestyle was easy to imagine. All four of them had been aware of her return to the office late one night, she’d stood frozen in place listening outside the door as they discussed scenes, equipment, and training they had planned for the club.

Parker doubted Lawton or Brodie had ever told her they’d known she was there, but that night had been a turning point for his friends—their focus had changed from lusting from a safe distance to developing a strategy for making her theirs. Personally he was relieved she’d finally made the first move because Law and Brodie had driven he and Tristan bat-shit crazy brainstorming how to claim their lovely assistant.

“Review the membership list—see if you can identify anybody who would be skilled enough to pull this off.” After disconnecting, Parker tried once again to contact Carli Walker.
Damn, somebody needs to paddle her sweet ass. If she’d just use the damned phone I gave her, this wouldn’t be an issue.
He’d picked up Cressida’s phone, but he didn’t want to power it up until he’d gotten a bead on whoever had decided she belonged to him.

Parker dreaded telling his friends how serious he considered the threat to Cressida’s safety, because they were going to panic at the thought she could be in danger. He also knew Cressida would probably balk at the net Brodie and Lawton would drop over her—she would equate their legitimate concerns with smothering and then it would be game on. But Parker would agree to err on the side of the angels as his mom always said, seemed like the better option to him. The man stalking her had definitely done plenty of research and anyone that thorough needed to be taken very seriously. Hell, from what Parker could tell, his file on their lovely assistant rivaled their own. Honestly, if circumstances were different he’d be trying to hire the guy. When he finally reached up to shut down his workstation, he sighed when he saw the email notification for his personal account flashing in the corner. He was tempted to ignore it but he clicked on it and then wanted to growl in frustration when he read the cryptic message from the elusive Ms. Carli Walker.

What’s the fucking emergency?

The woman annoyed Parker more than was reasonable considering the contract he’d signed recently with her agency was substantially above his usual fee. After his initial meeting with Carli, he’d balked at taking her on as a client, but not for the reasons he’d shared. Something electric had passed between them at first sight—he’d felt it to his toes and he had no doubt she’d felt it too. The irony was, something about her called to the sexual Dominant in him, even when she drove him into the stratosphere of frustration. He’d done a cursory investigation of Carli during the in-depth background workup they’d done on Cressida.

Unlike her younger sister, who was exactly what she seemed—Carli was far more complicated. The many layers of Carli Walker made her not only the most annoying woman Parker had every worked with, but also the most fascinating.

*****

Dale Roberts frowned at his monitor as the tracking program flashed Carli Walker’s message to Parker Daniels—thankfully his submissive wasn’t as spirited as her sister, she might be pretty, but he’d be cutting her out of Cressida’s life as soon as possible. Carli’s insolent attitude didn’t need to infect Cressi any more than it already had. Oh, he fully expected both women to fight that decision, but it was non-negotiable and in the end, Cressida would submit to her Master. If the head of Templar Enterprises Group was contacting Cressida’s sister, she must be quite ill. It rankled him to think he wasn’t able to care for her when she obviously needed him. Maybe he’d whisk her away for the vacation of her dreams to help her recover, from what he’d learned about her she loved the beach—so maybe a few weeks hitting all the world’s best beaches would help her forget her sister’s negative influence.