Mitchell leaned against Riordan’s bedroom doorframe, hands crossed over his chest. “She did. Care to tell me why?”
“No.” He didn’t want anyone ruining his daydream. Natalie Meeks with her legs spread open before him and passion in her hazel eyes was a vision he never wanted to forget. A vision that had made for long showers over the last few days. A vision he’d give his magnetic hands to explore.
“Getting involved with a Senator’s daughter is asking for trouble, Saint.”
His gaze shot to Mitchell, who cocked a brow. Senator’s daughter? Hell, he should’ve known. Old politics were plastered all over her polish and proper etiquette. As for her
improper
etiquette, well, he’d like to know how deep it ran.
“Involved?” Riordan stuffed in some t-shirts and zipped up his bag. “I thought you hired her to work with me.”
Mitchell let out an impatient sigh. “Don’t play me, Saint. Your hard-on hit the door ten seconds before you did.”
Riordan couldn’t help but grin. “Was that a compliment?”
Lowering his arms, Mitchell blocked his exit. “Dammit, Saint. Her father can and will move mountains, whether they be Rocky, Altay or otherwise.”
Instant anger flooded his body. If Mitchell implied that her father could send him back to the Altays, he’d have to do it over his dead body. No one would ever have control over him like that again. Ever.
“Okay, fine.” He held up a hand to stop Mitchell’s tirade.
“Whatever it takes to get out in the field.”
Sure, you say that now when she isn’t around...
With a nod of agreement, Mitchell stepped back to allow him out of the room. Walking to the front door of his D.I.R.E. apartment, they headed down the hall.
“What have you heard on my money and belongings?” Riordan said. “Did Naylor wipe out my accounts?”
Mitchell hesitated a moment before speaking. “No,
he
didn’t.”
Stopping mid-stride, Riordan turned to his boss. “But...?”
“Someone else did.”
Dread settled in Riordan’s stomach.
Sonovabitch
.
Pulling out his phone, Mitchell stared at the screen. “Our attorney, Max, applied for new identification cards. Your applications were denied.”
“
What
? Why?”
“Your identity’s been stolen.”
What the hell? “What do you mean,
stolen
?”
“In the last two years, someone cleaned out your bank accounts, cancelled your condominium lease in Denver and bought a house on Coronado. They bought a new Escalade and gambled away thousands in Vegas.” Mitchell gave him a wide-eyed gaze. “Someone’s enjoyed the good life at your expense.”
Anger returned to fester in Riordan’s gut. While he’d spent his days getting beaten and starved, someone else had stolen his hard-earned money and lived it up.
Whoever said life was unfair, had no freaking
clue
. He’d find the bastard and make him pay back every damned cent.
“You
are
giving me unofficial permission to stake out his house, right?”
“No.” Mitchell gave him a dead-on stare. “You don’t work for Naylor any longer. Revenge doesn’t play a part in this, Saint. We’ll find him, but we’ll find him doing it my way.”
Riordan gritted teeth.
Dammit
. He had to get used to working for the good guys.
Well… they were good most of the time, anyway.
“How can I get back my money?”
“You can’t. We’re reimbursing you.”
He shook his head. Hell, no. Then he’d owe D.I.R.E. even more.
Picking up his bag, he started walking again. “Do you realize how much I had?”
Mitchell fell in step beside him. “Yes.”
Stopping before the D.I.R.E. roof elevator, Riordan pushed the
up
button.“Is this your way of holding me under your thumb?”
Mitchell scowled. “
No
. You’re a part of the D.I.R.E. family now, Saint. What happens to you, happens to all of us.”
Straightening, he swallowed hard. Riordan hadn’t had family since his mother died. Jack Crawford, his grandfather, had never given a shit about him. He’d lived for his daily high and nothing else.
“Look, Mitchell, I’m just not used to…” The elevator door opened. He followed Mitchell inside.
“Generosity?” Mitchell gave a half grin. “Consider it back pay for the last three years. You earned it.”
If he took the money, he could start his own search for the bastard that had used his money to live fat and happy. If he didn’t take the money, it’d be like a slap in the face to the one man that’d been there for him since he returned.
“We’ve started a ripple in his cover,” Mitchell said. “Max’s request will trigger an investigation.”
“Good.”
I’ll get a shot at him.
The doors opened to the roof. They stepped onto the landing pad where Jaydan Rose prepared the D.I.R.E. helicopter for departure.
“In the meantime, I need you to cooperate with Natalie Meeks. I have a case waiting for you.”
Yes
. A purpose. That’s what he needed more than anything. A reason for being here. A reason why he shouldn’t be returned to Mongolia, even though he returned to that cave each night in his nightmares, anyway.
“What is it?”
“You’ve heard about the computer system breech of WorthMore Department Stores, right?”
Riordan nodded. It had been all over the news for the last couple of weeks. The accounts of millions of people had been hacked.
“Then, no doubt, you’ve heard about the computer system breech of McAlister Financial, and ShowStopper Ticket Outlets?”
“Yes, I heard,” he nodded. “They postponed ticket sales for the baseball playoffs.”
“They weren’t breeches, Saint. The actual computer systems were fried.”
Pulling back his head, he frowned. “As in
set fire
?”
Mitchell shrugged. “On the surface, it appears that way. What’s strange is that the fans on all of the servers were left functioning.”
“That makes no sense…”
Mitchell shook his head. “The systems were fried but the fans were left running, working perfectly. How does that happen?”
Staring out at the Nevada desert, Riordan thought aloud. “What do those companies have in common?”
“We’re working on that.”
He swung back his gaze to Mitchell.
“What I need from you, Saint, is inside intel. I don’t want to rely on outside reports. I want you to do a D.I.R.E. investigation, which hinges on you keeping things platonic with Natalie Meeks.”
Riordan waved away Mitchell’s concern. He knew better than anyone that an affair with Natalie Meeks would be a mistake. Not that Snow White would ever sleep with the Big Bad Wolf.
While he hung out in San Diego, he’d make up for lost time by picking up a few women. That would get Natalie Meeks’ passion-glazed eyes out of his head.
“Hell, she isn’t my type, anyway.”
The helicopter blades turned, working up to a fast whir. Mitchell raised his voice over the hum.
“Just go easy on her, Saint. She’s had a rough go of it lately.”
That statement surprised him, coming from a tough bastard like Jacobs. “Why? What happened?”
Mitchell just stared at him without a response. He should’ve known better than to expect an answer to a question about a senator’s daughter.
“Just
don’t
hit on her Saint, got it? Natalie Meeks is off limits.”
“
Hurry, Nat
. Come quick. To the lobby.”
Natalie’s assistant, Josie Aguilar, stood in front of her desk, breathing fast, her gray hair windblown. She waved up Natalie out of her chair, her eyes filled with excitement.
Pulling out her ear buds, Natalie paused a
Hinder
song as she went around the desk. She really didn’t have time for this. She needed to review her notes on Riordan St. James before he arrived.
Heck. Who was she kidding? She had every darned letter – and physical feature - memorized. The truth was, she needed something to distract her until he got there.
“Okay, Josie. What is it? You act like the building’s burning down…”
Josie took swift, short steps in her conservative heels and pencil skirt. Natalie had to rush to keep up with her.
“No fire…” Josie led the way into the front reception area. “But, something just as ho-“
The outer door opened. Natalie stumbled to a stop, Josie beside her. Riordan St. James stepped inside.
Only this wasn’t the Riordan St. James she’d met on Friday. That man had been a rough around the edges, no-holds-barred, long-haired Neanderthal.
This man… Natalie refrained from fanning herself, while Josie stared at him outright. This man wore his blonde, sun-streaked hair in long, stylish layers, his beard cut close. Gray trousers fit snug around his narrow hips, a pristine, white shirt over his wide shoulders and muscular chest. A figured tie in various shades of blue complimented his pale eyes.
However, best of all,
had
to be the spicy scent of juniper, musk wood and mandarin he showered on the reception area.
Holy rocky road…
“Dr. Meeks.” His heated gaze traveled from her pumps, up her black pant suit to her warm face, which had to be the same color as her rubicund shirt.
Why did she agree to see him? She already felt perspiration at her back. At this rate, she’d be stripped down to her intimates by the end of his session.
Then again, maybe that was the plan.
And you wouldn’t mind a bit, Nat.
“Mr. St. James…” She gave a brief nod. “You’re early.”
His baby blue eyes sparkled in the overhead lights. “Dr. Meeks… You noticed.”
Josie’s eyes widened as she cleared her throat. “Mr. St. James, may I get you some coffee, tea…?” She mumbled under her breath. “Fire extinguisher?”
The man actually had the gall to smile. Not just his brilliant smile, either. He gave her assistant a raving, all-out flirtatious smile, complete with a full dimple.
“Water would be great. Thanks…” He held out his hand to Josie.
She took it with a shy smile. Josie?
Shy
?
“Josie Aguilar. I’m Dr. Meeks’ assistant.”
Dropping his hand like a hot coal, Josie rushed out of the room.
He turned to Natalie. “If it’s going to mess up your schedule, I can wait out here until nine o’clock.”
She narrowed her eyes. Was he making fun of her penchant for routine? Routine kept her organized when her mind wanted to wander. Wander to the nearest art museum, online music store, handbag shop or… heaven forbid, tattoo website.
Her father would have a fit.
“Now is fine, Mr. St. James.” Turning back to her office, she held open the door and waited for him to enter. “Not a coffee drinker?” She shut the door behind her.
Looking around her office, he shook his head. “Not anymore. I used to be addicted. I’ve stayed away from it since I got back.” Going to the picture window, he stared at the pedestrians and traffic of downtown. “Nice office.”
Natalie had made a point of making her ground floor office a welcoming place. Abstract art in bright, vivid colors adorned her walls, the furnishings minimalistic and contemporary.
The room looked luxurious enough for her upper end clients yet, didn’t come across as too ostentatious. For some reason, it pleased her that he approved.
She scowled to herself. “Please, sit down.”
Turning from the outdoors, he stared at her. “I’m fine where I’m at.”
Yes, you are.
She sighed. “Mr. St. James, as much as you’d prefer it, I can’t talk to you with your back turned to me.”
Humor hiked up the corners of his mouth. “You’re the boss, Dr. Meeks.” Walking around the sofa, he sat in the middle of the cushions and stretched out his arms across the back. Resting his ankle on his knee, he gave her a sarcastic smile. “Better?”
Only if you were gone.
She sat down in her red armchair. “Perhaps we need to get one thing clear right off the bat. You’re here as my patient, not the other way around. My office, my way, my rules. If you can’t handle that, you’re more than welcome to leave.”
Eyes narrowed, he studied her without speaking. After a long moment, he said, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Immensely.
She didn’t respond.
A dazzling smile flashed on his handsome face. “Sorry to disappoint you, Meeks, but I’m here to gain your approval. You’re stuck with me until you deem me certifiably…
safe
.”
Hah
. Calling Riordan St. James safe would be like calling
Chris Hemsworth
’s biceps average.
She crossed her legs. “Okay. Let’s get down to it. Why do you want it?”
He gave her a slow, appreciative perusal, his grin arrogant.
Warmth flooded her face. “Let me elaborate. Why do you want the danger, the twenty-four/seven commitment? You’ve got a fresh start, Riordan. This would be a great opportunity to do something you’ve always dreamed about. Why this? Why D.I.R.E.?”
Frowning, he studied the back of his hand. “Besides the fact that Mitchell gave me my hands, it’s all I know.” He looked over at her. “What else do I have?”
She softened her voice. “I don’t know. Tell me.”
His sarcastic harrumph echoed in the quiet room. “Nothing. I have no family, no home, no other job offers. I just got my first paycheck, but my identity is still pending.” He flipped up his hands. “You’re right. I have a clean slate. Why
not
become the only man in the world with magnetic ability?”
He had a point. “You’ll move from one dangerous situation to another. When you have a family, what will that do to them?”
With high brows, he pulled back his head. “Family? I can’t even think that way. Not after what’s happened. If I’d left behind a wife and family, it would’ve killed me. Then again, if I’d had a family, I probably wouldn’t have been in the business.”
So Riordan was a protector, a man with a sense of honor. The notion surprised her, considering he’d worked for Robert Naylor.
“Yet, you became romantically involved with Cassandra Naylor. Did you ever consider what your disappearance did to her?”
He gave a rueful smile. “No. I was too self-absorbed, worrying about day-to-day survival. Besides, I don’t think I really mattered to her that much. Obviously, she moved on. After three years, anyone would.”
Natalie made notes on her tablet. Did he have no self-worth? Someone like Riordan would make an excellent agent. Fear wouldn’t enter his mind because he didn’t value his own life enough.
Now, she understood what Mitchell meant. He didn’t lack self-confidence so much as self-worth.
If Riordan St. James didn’t love himself, how could he love anyone else?
“What was your life like growing up?”
Jumping up from the sofa, he went back to the window. To the outdoors.
“What does that have to do with my readiness for the field?”
His reluctance told her they were getting somewhere. “You’re the one that wanted to be here. Therefore, my rules. Remember?”
Sighing, he spoke to the window. “Since I’ve been back, I’ve had a hard time with rules.”
“Oh, really?” She uncrossed her legs. “For some reason, I thought that was a lifelong trait.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned at her. “Maybe.”
They shared a smile, before he turned back to the traffic outside her window.
“Why have you had a hard time with rules?”
His response came quick. “Because I never want to be in a situation again that I can’t control.”
Don’t we all? “Don’t you think that’s a bit unrealistic?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But, I also know I’d do
anything
not to be helpless again.” He lowered his voice. “To me, that was worse than death.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. Riordan had thought himself tough, but Robert Naylor proved he wasn’t as valuable, as dangerous as he’d thought.
He’d exposed Riordan’s vulnerability.
“While you were in prison, did you ever think about dying, Riordan?”
Taking a deep breath, he let it out in a gust. Natalie fought the urge to rise and slip her arms around him. Why did she feel that way with him? Why did he draw her to him like a magnet to steel?
That kind of thinking had gotten her in trouble with Paul. She couldn’t afford to go there.
“Yeah, I thought about giving in and just letting them beat me to death.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But, I was so damned
pissed off
. All I could think about was getting out and finding whoever sent me there.”
He looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes round with uncertainty and daring. “I wanted revenge, Meeks. Plain and simple. Does that make me crazy? Psychologically unstable?”
She did rise then. “No.”
Moving to stand beside him, she gazed into his anguished, turbulent eyes. His height made him appear invincible, his scent hypnotizing. Yet, she felt the overwhelming need to protect
him
.
“I’d probably feel the same way, Riordan.”
Turbulence turned to strong-willed passion in his pastel eyes, his fingertips feather-light against her cheek. “You’d never have to worry about that, Meeks. No matter where you were, I’d find you - and, the revenge would be mine.”
Her heart pounded wildly against her ribs, like a mad, caged animal. God help her. She couldn’t breathe with his touch on her skin.
This was absolutely crazy. How did she fight this idiotic attraction she had for him when he
talked
like a superhero and vowed to avenge her? When he stared at her mouth like he wanted to devour it, and she wanted him to do it?
“Here we go…” Josie entered the office, water bottle in hand.
Natalie sprang away from Riordan, heat filling her cheeks. She refused to look Josie’s way, knowing she’d give her a thumbs up or at least a sly grin.
Riordan, on the other hand, accepted the water with impressive aplomb before Josie left the room.
How did she face him now, after she’d allowed them to cross that invisible line she knew darn freaking well shouldn’t be crossed?
Taking a sip of water, he watched her as he swallowed. She glanced away, the curtain tassels at her elbow suddenly fascinating.
“I lived with my mother and grandfather...”
Catching her breath, she whipped around to face him. He gave her a small smile as he set down the bottle on the credenza behind the sofa. She couldn’t help but smile back.
“She died in a car accident when I was eight. After that, I
resided
in the same house as my grandfather, but he lived for his high. I pretty much raised myself.”
That explained another facet of Riordan’s character - his survival instinct, his independent nature. He’d never had anyone to depend on but himself.
She’d learned that lesson, too.
“So, you took a bath, sent yourself to school each day, made good grades…” Crossing an arm over her middle, she rested her elbow on top.
Tipping his head to the side, he braced an arm on the window frame and stared outside. “I sent myself to school and made good grades - until I figured out I could get the girls to do my homework for me.” He glanced at her.
She spoke on a sigh. “Why am I not surprised?”
His mischievous grin would be the death of her.
“After that, I spent all of my time in the backseat of my Dodge Challenger, or racing it. I graduated mid-list, and enrolled in the local community college to get a degree in criminal justice.”
His relaxed features turned dark, his brows lowering into a fierce scowl. “The first week of college, a gang surrounded me in the parking lot after a night class. They wanted my car.”
Oh no… “Were you scared?”
“I was
pissed
.” He spat the last word. “My car was everything to me. I wasn’t about to hand it over without a fight.”
“What happened?”
His tone sounded adamant, yet distant. “I leveled them. Once I returned the first punch, it was like a dam had burst inside of me. I didn’t stop swinging until they were all down. When I drove out of that parking lot, I left four unconscious bodies lying on the pavement.” He stared down at his hands. “I shook so hard I had trouble steering my car.”