Foster Siblings 3: Brokedown Hearts (2 page)

With the folders and her purse clutched to her chest, Cheryl turned in a half circle, following where Ben moved, as if in a haze. “Um, yes. Yes, thank you. I’d like to see my sister. That would be good.”

“Take a seat,” Ben instructed. “Give me two minutes, and I’ll make sure you get to your sister.”

Leaving Cheryl in his office, Ben reached his assistant in three steps. Having gone through this routine many times in the past, Ben told Betty to look up the sister’s address, drive the client to her sister in the client’s car, and then call a taxi to bring her back to work.

Ben then moved back into his office. After assuring Cheryl one more time that he would make all his research available to a lawyer if or when Cheryl made that move, Ben sent the woman on her way to her family and threw himself back into his chair.

Along with an exhale, Ben muttered, “Shit,” and tunneled his hands through his hair. While shaving this morning, he’d noticed a few more grays mixed in with the raven-black color, but at this point he couldn’t motivate himself to think about coloring it, let alone buy a kit and do it. What for? As long as his clients didn’t care, nothing else mattered.

That last one-night stand didn’t seem to mind either
. As soon as Ben had that thought, he reminded himself how long ago that brief encounter had been, and he groaned and rolled his eyes. One-night stands weren’t his thing. He’d let control of his needs slip and had fucked that guy one time over a year ago. And he’d kept the man facedown on the bed through most of the act. Ben hadn’t given the dude much of a chance to look at him enough to notice any signs of aging.
Doesn’t matter anyway
. Ben scratched his hands through his short hair again. Work was the only thing that kept him getting out of bed most mornings these days.

Speaking of
… Ben began sifting through two other files—both current clients—and mentally planned the rest of his week. He had another potential cheater to catch, this one a wife, and then a grandmother who suspected her granddaughter might be into some seriously bad shit and wanted it checked out.

With a long sigh, Ben dragged his hands through his hair again.

A soft rap sounded at Ben’s door. He called out, “Enter,” and his bosses strode in and took seats at the foot of his desk.

The hairs on the back of Ben’s neck immediately stood on end. His bosses, Martin and Adrienne Skye—a couple married for thirty years and joint owners of this business, Skye Investigations, for twelve years—rarely double-teamed Ben in the middle of the day. The company held meetings for their investigators on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, and Ben had just sat at the conference table this morning and given his midweek report.

“What’s up?” Ben eyeballed Adrienne first and then Martin; their poker faces made Ben sit up straight. “Did something go wrong on a case? Do you need me to double-check a junior’s work?” Ben’s heartbeat kicked up along with the tone in his voice. “Why are you both so serious?”

Adrienne, with her breezy linen turquoise outfit and chestnut-colored hair pulled back in a stylish ponytail, blurted, “Ben, honey, you need a vacation.”

Ben reared. “What?” His jaw dropped nearly to the floor. Out of all possible and fantastical things combined, he had not expected that.
A vacation? Seriously?

Martin, austere in his charcoal suit, with his silver hair neatly styled, shifted forward in his chair. “We’ve been thinking about you over the past week, and it just hit Adrienne that in the seven years you’ve been with us, you’ve barely taken more than an occasional three-day vacation. You have months’ worth of time accumulated, and you’ve never even mentioned offhand that you’re thinking about using them.”

“But… But…” Ben’s pulse sped ridiculously, and he grasped for an argument that would sell his case. “I’m not a vacation type of person. They’re not me. The one time I took one, I was miserable for the entire ten days.” Holding Martin’s stare, Ben worked to control the rapid increase in his breathing. “I like to work. I love my work.” He shifted his focus to include Adrienne. “You both know that.”

Her smile empathetic—or maybe pitying; Ben couldn’t be sure—Adrienne reached across the desk and squeezed Ben’s hand. “I think you do love and are dedicated to what you do. At least I hope so. But you’ve done this job so relentlessly and for so long that we have to make sure the gift you have for it comes from love rather than a well-executed habit. We need you to step away for a little bit to assess what drives you and what gives you peace. Take a good look at your life while you’re away. Do whatever it takes to clear your head.”

Right then Martin nodded the smallest bit at Adrienne. Barely a movement, but Ben picked up on it. His hackles rose, an animal’s natural instinct to protect itself, as Adrienne added, “If, after a few months away, you really miss us, and you find that this work and this business are truly in your blood and are what you love, then we want you to begin training to lead a branch of Skye Investigations in Miami. We’re going to open an office down there in less than two years.”

Ben’s mouth gaped for the second time in minutes, an anomaly for him, and his stomach fell into his feet. “A second office?” Normally the sharpest and quickest investigator in this building, honed from years in law enforcement before joining Skye, Ben was rarely unable to read a person or a room. Right now his head spun more than his client’s had moments ago. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the information flying at him—
they want to give me the top spot in a new office, in a new city, but they want me to go away right now
—or what it all meant to him in the end.

Ben stammered, cleared his throat, and finally found his voice. “I had no idea. You’ve never said anything about wanting to expand.”

“We’ve been thinking about adding a second location for a while,” Adrienne answered, pride evident in her voice. “We didn’t want to say anything until we gave the numbers serious consideration and decided it was a good, smart move for us. We now believe it is.” A smile took Adrienne over, and it lit up her whole face. “You know our kids and grandbabies are here in Tampa, though, and we don’t want to move that far away from them.” She then turned her million watts of charm directly on Ben. “We believe you’re our guy to take charge in a Miami office. But in order for us to believe you really want it, and that the workload and responsibility won’t run you into the ground in less than two years, we want you to take some time for yourself and come back to us refreshed and certain about the moves you want to make for your future.”

Choked up as hell but his pulse still buzzing, Ben reached for sanity. “I’d be honored to run a branch for you guys, no matter its location. I don’t need to sit on a beach for a week to tell you that.”

Martin, always so serious and professional, shook his head. “No. We want you to take a minimum of six weeks away. Take the time to decompress from the job, let yourself breathe, and see how you feel. At the end of that time, if you decide you don’t want to take even a day longer, come talk to us and let us know how you want to proceed. I don’t want to hear a word of business between us before then.”

Ben lifted files and waved them in his bosses’ direction. “But I have cases.”

Without missing a beat, Martin took the papers from Ben’s hand. “We’ll take them over; this way the clients know you’re not passing them off to a junior investigator.”

Adrienne added on top of Martin, “And while you’re away, don’t even think about calling Betty to have her keep you in the loop. She’ll know you’re not to have any information about work while you’re away.”

Ben opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, Martin said, “No arguing.” His sharp tone instantly clamped a vise around Ben’s throat and shut him up. “We want you for our Miami office more than anything, but if you don’t take this break now, we won’t feel comfortable giving it to you.”

“Okay.” Knot after knot twisted on top of each other in Ben’s stomach, churning his gut, but he threw up his hands, giving in. “Who am I to fight time off? Six weeks? Bring it on.”

The way Adrienne looked at Ben made him feel like a lost puppy. “You look like a cornered animal right now, but you’re going to have to trust me. In six weeks, you’ll be thanking me for making you do this.”

Ben forced a smile. “I’m sure I will.”

Not a chance
. Ben would hate every second of time wasted in the next six weeks. Forget gray hair; he might not have any hair by the time he returned to work. There was a very good chance frustration and boredom would have him yanking out every strand.
But then what will I do with my second day of vacation?

Pushing the fatalistic bent of humor from his thoughts, Ben opened a new case folder, but this time passed it across his desk. If this was his last day of work for a while, he wanted to make sure he didn’t leave any insight or important bit of information about his clients unsaid. “So let me give you some more detailed information about the active cases you’re going to take over for me…”

Ben would hate his life for the next month and a half.

He was sure of it.

Chapter One

Ben, with the phone to his ear, said, “No problem.”

Braden, Ben’s ex, hadn’t said more than
“I might know someone who has a job for someone at Skye”
before Ben had interrupted the guy.

He didn’t let Braden get another word out before adding, “It’s done.”

Braden’s easy chuckle carried through the receiver. “You don’t even know what the client wants yet. How do you know you can get a trainee to agree?”

Pacing the length of his condo, Ben breathed through the hum of life suddenly coursing into his body. “Don’t need to. I’ll be the one taking the job.”

Braden rumbled a deep, familiar noise of disagreement. “I doubt Jonah is expecting to pay someone of your caliber for this level of work.”

“This is for Jonah?” Ben’s voice rose an octave.

Tampa, Ben’s home base, was a good hour-and-a-half drive from Coleman, where Braden and his two partners, Abby and Rodrigo, lived, but Ben had visited a handful of times and had met some of their friends. His memory of Jonah consisted of a big, mostly quiet man who adored his partner, Christian. That made him worth doing a job for, in Ben’s book.

Riding high on the blood racing hot through him—
a new job, something to do
—Ben added, “Then I say yes even more. Jonah could have called me himself. I don’t know him and Christian that well, but I hope they both would consider me a friend.”

“I’m sure they do,” Braden assured him. “This is something Jonah needs done quietly, though, so he wanted me to put out a feeler before sharing what he wants.”

Pausing at his wall of windows, Ben stared out at the bay. He had a gorgeous view of calm blue waters from his living room and bedroom, with ships coming in and out of the harbor—a view that, on most evenings, after a hard day of work, calmed Ben and helped him fall asleep. Now, though, for the fourth day in a row, he wanted to scream at the view.

“The truth is,” Ben confessed to his friend, “it doesn’t matter what the gig is. I’m going stir-crazy here.” When Ben had initially taken Braden’s call, during some early chitchat, Ben had shared his forced-vacation situation. “I can’t stand the thought of another day without something productive to do.”

Braden’s sigh invaded Ben’s ear. “Fuck. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this. I’m guessing this isn’t exactly the vacation your bosses wanted you to take.”

“I don’t care,” Ben snapped, pulling at his hair. “I’m gonna fucking lose my mind. I’ll do this for Jonah as a favor, as a separate job from Skye. All I’d want from him is payment for whatever expenses I’ll incur doing the work.”

“Promise me you don’t truly need this vacation, Ben.” Intimacy and a deep knowledge of Ben’s history and personality tinged the gentle notes in Braden’s voice. “Think about things for a good long minute before assuring me you’re fine and that your bosses are being overly protective. I don’t want to be responsible for giving you that one extra job that makes you crack.”

A pull in Ben’s heart reminded him of how much he’d once loved this man. And of how deeply his heart had been shattered when Braden had broken things off. Barely holding in a growl, Ben said, “I’m fine. I’m not on the verge of some damned breakdown. You know me, Braden. You know me better than anyone. Do you think a forced vacation is better for my mental health than doing the work I love?”

Thirty seconds of tense silence reigned between them before Braden finally muttered, “Fair enough. Okay. I’ll talk to Jonah and tell him to get in touch with you one-on-one.” Braden cursed softly, the base words heavy with meaning. “I think you need to know something. The fact is, Christian probably won’t like what Jonah wants you to do. Shit”—Ben could picture Braden pacing as hard as Ben was—“just talking to you about what he wants makes me a bit uncomfortable, to be honest, and it might make you feel the same and want to pass on it. But I understand what Jonah wants, and why he needs it, at least for a short while, so I’ve agreed to keep everything in confidence. You would be expected to as well.”

“That’s not even a question.” Ben’s head spun with the possibilities of what specifically Jonah would want from him. He quickened his stride to his bedroom, to the closet, and started digging for his travel bag. “If Jonah hires me, he has my discretion as part of the job.”

“Okay. I’ll have him give you a call.”

Ben hoisted the structured leather duffel onto the bed. “I’ll be waiting.”

Instead of hanging up—Ben had almost clicked End Call and tossed his cell on the bed—Braden added, “It was good to talk to you, Ben.” Braden paused then, and when he spoke again, a softness Ben hated filled his tone. “Abby and Rigo love you, you know? They’re not threatened by my past with you, and you’ve said you like them both too. You don’t have to keep making up excuses when we invite you out for a meal.”

Fucking pity. Don’t even think about pushing that shit on me
. Baring his teeth in a wolf’s snarl, Ben somehow managed to keep his voice nice and even. “They weren’t excuses, as you can tell by the forced vacation my bosses think I need. I’ve had my nose to the grindstone with work all the time. I don’t give myself much free time for anything. I don’t like it.”