Unwrapped: Clear Security's Holiday (Clear Security Holiday Book 2) Page 4

  McPhee and Associates has nine employees, and I’m the only attorney. I’ll get people bailed out of jail and through arraignments, if needed, but I’m not going to litigate for them. However, I will find them the best representative. Sometimes it takes a little bit of arm twisting, but I’ve got that covered.

  My bell rings at precisely seven. I got the dinner out fifteen minutes ago, which allowed me enough time to plate the stews and place them in the oven to warm. Opening the door, Bash’s eyes grow wide as he takes in my light pink bustier and matching hot pants.

  “You wear heels at home?”

  No detail gets by this guy, and my stomach flutters. “I do when I’m dealing with a man who’s more than a foot taller than me.”

  He’s not looking at me when I hear him say, “It doesn’t matter when you’re lying down.”

  My insides clench. “This isn’t that kind of dinner,” I emphasize.

  He turns to me, confused. “What is ‘that kind of dinner’?”

  Okay, I wore this outfit to see how serious he was about the possibility of having some fun, but now that he’s so sure of himself, it’s not going to happen.

  “One that ends in sex,” I explain.

  “Good, because I came here to have dinner and go through the information I’ve been able to gather in less than twenty-four hours.”

  His confidence does turn me on, though. “Okay. Would you like a drink and we can talk about what you’ve learned before we sit down to eat?”

  “Sure. I don’t suppose you have something other than that rot gut you served me yesterday?”

  I roll my eyes. “That rot gut was expensive and smuggled past U.S. Customs and Immigration. The law doesn’t allow more than seventy-six-percent alcohol to be imported. I could always water it down for you?”

  “That’s okay. I did lats for my workout this morning, so it wasn’t that bad. But tomorrow morning is legs, and too much alcohol will make it a tough day.”

  “I have wine to go with dinner,” I offer.

  He nods. “I’ll be fast with this part, and then we can have a slow, easygoing dinner.”

  Okay, now he has me wanting to shimmy out of my hot pants and ride him. Where is this coming from? I’m never like this.

  We sit down at the kitchen table.

  “As you know, Hunter’s company, Distinctive Technology, is a cloud-based data warehouse,” Bash says. “They allow their customers to store with them from multiple platforms. They’re set to go public in December. They have many competitors, but one stands out, The John Riley Company—”

  “Don’t you think it’s self-aggrandizement to name your company after yourself?” I ask. “He’s such a tool anyway. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “We’ve dealt with him once at Clear, and that was enough.” Bash doesn’t elaborate, though I know his stories would put many of mine to shame. “Anyway, as I was going through the details on the company, I was surprised that Hunter doesn’t have as many customers as I thought. And it’s a reasonable assumption that if the CEO is indicted for murder, not only will it put the IPO in jeopardy, but several clients will walk. Do you know anything about Eric Martin, Distinctive Technology’s second in command?”

  I shake my head. “No. My involvement with the company is to fix problems, so unless someone calls me, I’m guessing all is fine.”

  “Okay, just stop me if I’m telling you stuff you already know,” Bash says. “Eric Martin is a bit abrasive, and the board would most likely call for a new CEO if Hunter can’t do the job. That would create a lot of drama to play out in the papers.”

  “That sounds right up John Riley’s alley,” I tell him.

  He nods and flips to a new sheet of paper. “Hunter and Jenn took a rideshare home. It was called from Hunter’s phone. We’re waiting to talk to the driver to see how they seemed in the car and how they got into their apartment.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Bash nods and continues. “At Ashbury Central, they started with the hallucinogenic mushrooms. Those suckers are grown in the back.”

  I shrug. “Not appealing to me, but Hunter and Jennifer were interested in experimenting. We should look for any other drug use.”

  “Already working on that,” Bash says. “Jenn had some vegan stir fry, and Hunter had tofu scramble. We’re trying to get a list of ingredients. We’re also pulling Jennifer’s stomach contents to see what else she might have had and if anything was spiked.”

  “Smart thinking.”

  “Now, here’s the big thing. Peter Leong’s Chinese name opened up a lot of information we’re still looking through. The records at St. Anthony today show him as Peter Leong.”

  I shake my head. “He was Wang-Fang. Kids made so much fun of him—they’d ask if his dick was a fang and crap like that. I figured he changed it to get away from the teasing. But if the school no longer has him as Wang-Fang, someone changed those records for a larger purpose.”

  “Wang-Fang is a common Chinese name, but some conversations we’ve been watching with the FBI make a lot more sense now,” Bash says. “We have a lot to digest.”

  “I hope you’ll keep me posted. I wouldn’t mind being there if they’re going to arrest him. That asswipe likes to put his big ass in my face and tell me he wants to be spanked. Let me tell you, I often want to kick him in the balls, but I know that mysteriously, the video of him taunting me would disappear and I’d be arrested for assaulting a police officer.”

  Bash gives me a belly laugh. “That would be awesome!” He continues to chuckle. “I’d pay to see that, but you’re probably right. The video of the taunts would disappear, and you’d be in trouble for assaulting him. As much as the police department hates him, they’d side with him.”

  “I’m hungry,” I announce. “I picked up some Guinness beef stew with cheddar-herb biscuits and potato cakes to go with it.”

  As if on cue, Bash’s stomach rumbles. “Sounds fantastic.”

  We sit down at my kitchen table, knee to knee. I hand Bash the bottle opener, and he opens the cabernet and pours us two glasses. I place a generous portion of stew in front of each of us.

  I sit down, and he watches me like a lion watches his prey. I take a bite, and he follows suit. I moan. This is good—exactly what I was hoping for when I ordered. It’s been ages since I’ve had the beef stew, but my favorite is always the cheddar biscuits.

  “Wow, where did you find this?” Bash asks.

  “There’s an old IRA hangout called The Blarney Stone between Coit Tower and the Italian neighborhood. They cook for me when I’m hungry for my mom’s cooking.”

  “Where’s your mom? Back in Ireland?”

  “Nah. She passed a few years ago. She had a heart defect that they didn’t have the science they have today to fix. I miss her.” I sigh. “Where are your parents?”

  Bash shrugs. “My mom up and left my dad and me when I was about ten. He was a drunk, abusive shit. At seventeen, I enlisted in the army to get away from him and became a Ranger. After that, I got out and joined the Marshals Service. Jim asked for some help with Nate Lancaster’s daughter’s kidnapping several years ago, and I joined him. Where’s your dad?”

  “USP Atwater.” I stare at him, waiting for the next question that always comes.

  He almost chokes. “As a federal inmate or a corrections officer?”

  I chuckle. “He’s a federal inmate and has been for years. He was in Canyon City, Colorado, for a while, but when my mom was sick, they moved him closer. He was devastated when she died. They brought him to the funeral. I don’t see him very often. The FBI tends to come calling when I do.”

  “I thought my dad was an asshole.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. My dad imported guns and sold them to motorcycle gangs and drug dealers to raise money for the cause at home. Ireland doesn’t want him back, so I think they pay for him to be here. As a reward for being his daughter, now and again, the FBI goes poking through my life and my business. But I use jammers all t
he time, and I’m well versed in self-defense. It’s not ideal, but there are a few perks. I’ll use who I know if I ever need to. However, the IRA, to my knowledge, isn’t running much these days in San Francisco.”

  He’s staring at me, and I’m almost uncomfortable.

  “Do I have something in my teeth?”

  He smiles and shakes his head.

  I stand to clear the table. “I have espresso, or port, if you prefer, and we can sit in the living room.”

  He gets a devilish smile. “How about caffeine-free tea?”

  I like this man. “I’ll join you for that. I have peppermint, chamomile, and caffeine-free green tea.”

  “You choose,” he says.

  I prepare a pot of chamomile, and we sit on the couch.

  “How do you like your tea?” I ask.

  “With water. How do you like it?”

  “Cream and sugar,” I reply.

  “Sweet, just like you.”

  “Why, Mr. Pontius, are you trying to butter me up?”

  “I tell you what, give me your feet.”

  WTF? “Excuse me?”

  “You walk around in those stilettos, so I have to believe your arches and probably your calves need to be worked.”

  I look at him skeptically.

  “Just below the knees.”

  His look challenges me, and I hate a challenge. I lift my feet and plop them in his lap. He slides them out of my shoes. I’m so grateful I have soft-pink toenails. His hands are strong, and he starts with my arches. I’m putty in his hands.

  This is almost better than an orgasm. “Gawd, that feels amazing.”

  “I know you’re a voyeur,” he says. “What else do you like to do?”

  “I don’t have a lot of time for hobbies outside of work. What about you?”

  “I don’t make time for hobbies beyond working out and riding my Harley when I can.” He runs his knuckles up into my arches again. I shut my eyes and enjoy the pressure. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Why are you asking?” I open one eye and look at him. “Does it have something to do with our mutual client?”

  Bash’s mouth quirks. “I think you’re sexy, and I didn’t want to kiss someone who belonged to someone else.”

  I snatch my feet back, stand up tall, and look him in the eyes, so he doesn’t mistake anything I’m about to unleash on him. “First, I belong to no one but myself.” I put my hands on my hips. “Second, I didn’t give you permission to kiss me.”

  Bash stands. I smell his pine and sandalwood scent. He steps toward me.

  “Third—”

  He pulls me close, and his lips crash into mine. His arms snake around my waist. His tongue pushes into my mouth and dances with mine. He bites my lower lip, and I can’t help but lean into him as my nipples harden and desire rolls through my body. The only sound I hear is our breathing. His grip tightens, and I surrender control, letting him show me how pleasurable a night with him could be.

  He breaks away, and I’m dizzy on my feet. My hand goes to my mouth, and I step back, putting several feet between us. I can see the tent in his pants, and I want nothing more than to get on my knees and explore him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He looks down at me, and I think he might be blushing.

  “It’s okay.” I try to find my bearings. I’m not usually so discombobulated after a simple kiss. Okay, the kiss wasn’t simple. It was soul searching, and it pulled deep within me.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he says.

  For a while? He hardly knows me. “Well, now that it’s out of your system, we can move on.” My body doesn’t want me to move on. But my mind is in charge.

  He runs his hands along the front of his thighs. “I’ll see you in the morning, and I’ll follow up with you later tomorrow with anything else I find on Mr. Anderson’s case.”

  I nod. I’m quite adept at having affairs that don’t affect my heart. In fact, I love a good romp. Typically, it’s not even a problem to mix business with pleasure—makes things quite efficient. But this sexy man has me off kilter. I don’t know what to think.

  Bash gathers his things, and as he walks toward the door, he stops and looks at me. “For the record, that kiss was amazing, and I’d like to do that again sometime.”

  I smile at him and shake my head. “Good night, Mr. Pontius.”

  I shut the door and stand behind it until I hear him start his Range Rover. My phone rings, and I’m disappointed I can’t watch to see which direction he drives off.

  “Fiona McPhee.”

  “I’d like to kiss you all over.” Bash’s voice is gravelly over the phone. “And lick your pussy until you come on my tongue.”

  I grin. “That was a pretty amazing kiss.”

  “I know we have some work to do, and I’m not usually the kind of guy who mixes work and pleasure, but I think we’re a lot alike.”

  “Really?” I walk to the window and see him in the driveway. “How so?”

  “I think we both enjoy sex. We’re open-minded. And neither of us is looking for a commitment.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “You watch at The Dungeon for fun sometimes.” He pulls into the street and drives east toward downtown. “I’ve seen you watch the girls who get spanked in public. Do you like to get spanked in private?”

  “Hmmm… You tell me.”

  “I don’t think much offends you, but being spanked isn’t your thing.”

  “I would say that’s accurate. Tell me, Mr. Pontius, what do you like?”

  “I like a woman who’s comfortable in her own skin, and who doesn’t mind me being a little alpha in the bedroom. I require that she comes before I do. I like a woman who doesn’t mind going down on me and lets me go down on her—and a woman who’s open to trying anything other than the missionary position.”

  “Are you trying to sweet talk your way into my pants?”

  “I want to be in more than your pants. I want to be the last thing you think about at night and the first thing that comes to mind when you wake.”

  “That’s a pretty tall order. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who took that much of my time.”

  “Good. I can be the first.”

  I touch my lips. It’s like they’re on fire from his kiss.

  “I’ll be thinking about that kiss tonight,” he murmurs. “See you in the morning at Damien’s.”

  Chapter 6

  Fiona

  It’s late, but I’m pretty wired this evening after my encounter with Bash, and it’s almost closing time at The Dungeon. Erin should know about the blackmailing situation she has on her hands as soon as possible. I’ve texted her to let her know I’m on the way, and I walk into The Dungeon wearing my usual green bracelet—watching only.

  Though they’re only open another hour, the club is crazy with people. I notice a dom in a Santa hat, and her sub is wearing reindeer antlers. Another woman has silver bells on her nipple clamps. I shake my head. Sometimes people go a little overboard.

  When I get to Erin’s office, she has her usual sub standing in the corner, ready at her beck and call.

  “I need to have a private conversation with you,” I tell her.

  “Evan, go get me a glass of ice water and wait for me outside the office.”

  He bows. “Yes, Mistress.”

  I close the door behind him and pull the envelope with copies of the photos out of my bag. I pour the contents on her desk. She starts to reach for them, but stops and looks at me, silently asking my permission.

  “They’re copies.”

  “Where the hell did you get these?” she asks as she looks them over.

  “Michael Williams.”

  Erin’s head whips up. “Please tell me you’re lying.” She knows someone blackmailing a judge could cost her the business.

  I shake my head.

  “Do you know how much damage control I have to do?”

  “Well, none, until we figure out who’
s behind this.”

  She picks up a photo and stares at it. “We need to figure out how and where these were taken.”

  “That’s why I’ve brought them to you. If I had to guess, they’re from three different nights. We should also figure out who else was influential might have been here those nights and make sure they’re not being blackmailed, too.”

  Erin sits back in her chair and stares up at the ceiling. “This could put me out of business.”

  “I know you wouldn’t mind getting out, but on your own terms.”

  “Exactly. The bullshit with the cutting yesterday just further cements my decision to sell, but if I lose clientele because of a security situation, there will be no value left in my business for anyone to buy.” She sighs.

  “Can you look through the film and your computer logs to see who was here those nights?”

  “No problem.” She nods. “I can also pull in Clear if I need to.”

  “I’ll check in with you in a few days.”

  She nods again. “Oh, and thanks for all your help yesterday. That could have been uglier than it was.”

  “I would have been home free if her dom had been doing his job.”

  “He’s gone, and I’m putting her with Adam.”

  I have a soft spot for Adam. When I was considering the lifestyle, he showed me the ropes. It wasn’t for me, but he was wonderful. The sub will get things figured out. “I’ll talk to you later,” I call on my way out.

  It’s after two when I finally get to bed, and I have a meeting first thing in the morning. It’ll be like this through the new year. It always is. I can sleep when I die.

  Chapter 7