Whiskey-Eyed Woman (Soldiering On Book 5) Read online

  Mandy swallowed and nodded. “You’re right.”

  They ate in silence. Duncan tried not to watch the delicate way she ate, how she licked the soup from her lips, he really did. But then he’d find his spoon drooping, splashing his own soup back into his bowl, and he’d have to gather himself yet again.

  “We need to make a plan,” he said. And quickly, so they could leave this place before he made a fool of himself. Again.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “Where do we start?”

  “Well, some of the proof we intended to take to the authorities would’ve been destroyed in that blast. We’ll need to regather what we had. We should go back to Shep, since she got the information for us in the first place.”

  “Information that turned out to have at least been partially doctored,” Mandy reminded him. When they’d first hired Shep to break into Beaton’s systems, she’d found a falsified document that had implicated Cameron—Sam’s new boyfriend—in the Christmas hostage situation that had nearly killed Duncan and Mandy.

  “Still. I think we managed to figure out what was fake, right?”

  Mandy nodded in agreement. “Do you think Shep would’ve kept everything she got from their servers for us? We told her not to.”

  He shrugged. “Worth a shot. She seemed like the thorough type, enough to make backups of everything.”

  “OK, so tomorrow morning that’ll be our first port of call. What else?”

  “We need to find out where Tulane is. Who he is. Without that, there’s no way the authorities can bring charges against him.”

  “But we’ve tried everything,” Mandy said, face falling. “There’s no one in this city with the name Tulane as a first or last name—not that could possibly own an international corporation.”

  “No, but he’s kept that name hidden, so it must mean something. There’s one thing we haven’t tried.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, eyes bright with interest.

  “Maybe Tulane is a nickname. A nickname that reveals something about him.”

  Her eyes widened. “As in, maybe he went to Tulane University?”

  “Exactly,” he said with a satisfied smirk.

  “Smart. We’ll have to ask Paul or Destiny to get us alumni records.”

  “But not until we get out of here,” he said.

  “Right,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “So what else can we do?”

  He shrugged. “Mostly just wait. The others will continue our work while we’re gone, but it’s best Tulane thinks we’re dead while we figure out our plan.”

  “Right, so it’s time we go to the authorities, right? Once we get out of here.”

  “Yes, I think it’s time. We’ve done all we can, we need someone with legal authority to investigate the rest. We just have to hope bringing them in doesn’t put them in danger, too.”

  She agreed, and they finished their dinner and cleaned up, discussing other potential plans and rejecting them. Neither wanted to sit still, and it killed him to wait. But his main priority was keeping Mandy safe.

  When the blast had first gone off in their office building, his heart had jumped into his throat. He’d come so close to losing her. If they’d delayed another few minutes, neither of them would be standing here now.

  The thought shook him, sending a protective urge welling up inside him. Tulane had lots to answer for, and Duncan intended to make him pay.

  Chapter 4

  Destiny was still on the scene, watching the firefighters douse the last of the flames in the gutted out remains of the office building. Reporters had camped out on the other side of the barrier, giving updates for the last hour to their live audience on the local channels. Destiny knew they hung around purely in the hope of getting some juicy scoop. Somehow, they’d already found out that Mandy—a socialite that appeared occasionally in gossip columns—worked here, and that she was missing.

  Destiny kept away, not wanting the vultures to realise she had a personal friendship with the possible victims.

  Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket to see Zack’s name flash on the screen. She jogged beyond the hearing distance of the crowd before she answered.

  “One of the cars is gone,” he told her, without preamble.

  Destiny let out a laughing breath. “So they’re alive?”

  “Yeah. Duncan left us a note where the key was.”

  “And?” Destiny prompted.

  “It says ‘Still alive. Don’t look for us, we’re laying low. Will contact you when we can’. Not very helpful.”

  Destiny grinned. “Hey, at least they’re alive. Have you called the others?”

  “Nope, I’ll do that now. Can you meet us later, so we can go through a plan? My place? Doesn’t matter how late it is.”

  “Absolutely,” Destiny agreed. They hung up and Destiny resisted doing a little dance.

  A commotion sounded over near the barrier. Destiny glanced over to see a vaguely familiar man in his sixties, wearing an expensive suit, pushing to the front of the spectators, followed by a younger man in an equally pricey getup. There weren’t many people left now the fire had died out, but enough that the man was getting irate when people didn’t immediately move out of the way.

  “Excuse me!” he called to anyone that would listen. “I need to speak to the person in charge.”

  No one in emergency services seemed to pay him any attention, though the newscasters immediately directed their cameras his way.

  The man kept yelling and waving, and kept getting ignored, so Destiny moved over to him.

  “How can I help you, sir?”

  His gaze locked on her, his expression furious. “What took you so long? Are you in charge?”

  “I’m happy to help in any way I can,” she said.

  He narrowed his eyes, chest heaving, but apparently decided he wouldn’t find anyone more senior to talk to him.

  “Have you seen my daughter?”

  A chill ran down Destiny’s spine. “Was she in the building, sir?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “But this is where she works.”

  The spectators and journalists didn’t even try to disguise their interest in the conversation, so Destiny led the older man and his younger companion to a more private spot.

  “What’s your daughter’s name?” she asked quietly.

  “Lennox,” he said. “Amanda Lennox. The news says she’s missing.”

  This was Mandy’s father, Destiny realised. She’d never met the man, because Mandy had been estranged from him since she’d left his company and started Soldiering On with Duncan. Destiny swallowed, panic clutching at her. She couldn’t tell this man the truth—that she suspected Mandy was still alive. But nor could she lie to him in all good conscience.

  “I’m sorry to say,” she began, trying to think how to play the line between giving him information while keeping him completely out of the loop. “We’ve had no contact with Amanda Lennox at present.”

  “Why not?” he demanded. “Where is she? Have you called her?”

  “Yes, we’ve tried—”

  “Why aren’t you looking for her? You need to find her.” Morris Lennox’s eyes were wide, and Destiny understood he was afraid. Though Mandy rarely spoke of her father, she’d mentioned him enough that Destiny had always got the impression the man cared nothing for his only daughter.

  But seeing him here, now, with a crazed, desperate look in his eyes, it was clear Mandy was wrong. He may not have shown it in a healthy way, but he cared deeply about his daughter.

  “Sir, we’re doing all we can.”

  “It’s not enough. Who do I need to call to get you working? Senators? I’m friends with plenty.”

  “Sir, you need to be patient. We’re hoping she wasn’t in the building at the time. If so, then she’ll contact you when she can, I’m sure.”

  His jaw worked. “You need to inform me when she’s found. And not in that building,” he said, waving wildly towards the skeleton of the once
-elegant office building. “When she’s found alive. I know she’s alive. She wouldn’t…she can’t…”

  He stopped talking and spun away from her, taking heaving breaths. The younger man looked between Mandy’s father and Destiny with an impassive gaze, but made no move to comfort him. Destiny disliked him instantly.

  “You’re welcome to wait here for news,” Destiny told him. “But you might be more comfortable at home. If you give me your card, I can call you if I hear anything.”

  Morris Lennox turned towards her, his face stony now he’d pulled himself together. “I’ll wait,” he said, daring her with his eyes to contradict him. Destiny said nothing.

  “Dad…” the younger man said, a slight whine in his tone. Mandy’s brother, the one that had taken over as heir to Lennox Industries when Mandy had left. He was, by Mandy’s account, largely useless, and two minutes in his company made Destiny believe it.

  Morris strode back to the thinning crowd behind the barrier. Destiny watched him for a while as he made phone calls, getting increasingly agitated with each one. One of the journalists bravely cornered him, and he apparently agreed to an interview, because soon they’d pointed the camera at him and held a microphone in his face.

  Destiny winced. It was possible Morris’ actions could blow Mandy and Duncan’s attempts to temporarily fake their own deaths, but what could she do? Morris Lennox was a powerful man, with powerful friends, and she had no idea how trustworthy he’d be if she told him the truth.

  It was late, and she was tired. The firefighters packed up and the police set a few uniforms to guard the wet ashes of the former building. She managed to escape, since her shift finished a few hours ago. Gracie had left at some point—Destiny vaguely remembered saying goodbye while she waited for news, but couldn’t remember the details. She’d apologise for her inattention tomorrow.

  For now, she had to meet up with the team over at Zack’s. They had to make a plan of how best to help Duncan and Mandy—whether they liked it or not.

  Frustrated by their lack of progress with their plan, Duncan suggested they sleep on the issue and come back to it in the morning after the visit to the hacker that had provided them with much of the proof they intended to bring to the authorities. Hopefully, Shep still had copies of what she’d found in Beaton’s, or she could find it again; otherwise, they were back to square one.

  Both Duncan and Mandy kept copies of most documents at their respective houses, but that wouldn’t be enough for the authorities. Given how easily proof could be doctored, they’d want the information straight from the source.

  Mandy figured the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants Duncan had given her—the ones that smelled faintly of him—would work perfectly well for sleepwear. It was a shame she didn’t have anything more appealing to wear. She didn’t want to care what Duncan thought of her, but she’d admitted to herself a long time ago that it mattered a great deal. She wanted him to find her sexy—irresistible, even. And if she had that lacy red number, currently hidden at the back of her lingerie drawer, she’d have no doubt he’d want her.

  Instead, she had to wear baggy clothes, and allow her normally-straightened hair dry in soft waves. There’s no way he’d make a move on her now.

  More’s the pity.

  The intimacy of living with a man with whom she’d shared a kiss—even a brief one, given in a life-or-death situation—made her long for what could have been between them. If Duncan wasn’t so stubborn, if he didn’t insist on seeing her as a woman she wasn’t.

  She sighed.

  “There’s a slight issue with the sleeping arrangements,” Duncan told her as he leaned past her to flick the light in the living room off.

  “What’s that?” she asked, sounding a little breathless even to her own ears. Moonlight filtered in through the gauzy curtain, weaving an intimate enchantment between them.

  He leaned down, and for a brief moment, Mandy thought—hoped—he’d kiss her. Instead, he rubbed his thigh with a wince. He’d pushed his leg too hard today, with the long walk and crouching. She wondered how he’d react if she offered to massage it for him, then decided she wasn’t up to facing the rejection.

  “There’s only one bed…” His eyes locked onto hers as he said the words, his gaze heating.

  Now she really did lose her breath, as all of it exhaled in a rush. The images the simple words conjured, of the two of them sharing a bed and all that might entail, crowded her mind. The hot slide of their naked bodies, mingling breaths, mind-blowing pleasure. It overwhelmed her.

  “…so I’ll sleep on the couch,” he continued.

  Mandy blinked as the words penetrated her brain. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered. She glanced at the two-person couch, then his 6’4” frame. “You’ll never fit.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m not letting you sleep in an uncomfortable place tonight.”

  Mandy narrowed her eyes. Before she could think twice, she blurted out a suggestion. “We can share.”

  Even in the dim light, with his dark skin, she could see him blanch. He stumbled back and away from her.

  “That’s a terrible idea,” he told her bluntly.

  “Why?” she asked.

  She wanted him to say it, once and for all. Did he hate her? Did he want her? Some days she suspected it was both. But she wanted to be sure, so she could finally deal with these feelings she had for him, once and for all.

  “I can’t…I just…No.”

  “Then I’ll take the couch,” she said, setting her shoulders.

  “No,” he said again, his eyes narrowing in challenge.

  “Then we’re at a standoff.”

  They eyed each other for a long moment.

  Mandy shifted, wanting to win this battle, even if she didn’t actually want to share a bed with him. God knows what her subconscious would do in her sleep, but it would probably be incredibly inappropriate between work colleagues.

  “I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He choked, scandalised, and Mandy grinned.

  “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered to himself. Mandy resisted the urge to crow in triumph and instead gave an enigmatic smile.

  Mandy readied herself for bed and cleaned her teeth with a toothbrush pilfered from the unopened package in the bathroom drawer. As Duncan showered, she settled into bed, facing the window, ears attuned to his sounds. He cleaned his teeth, taking an inordinately long time in the bathroom. Maybe hoping she’d fall asleep in the meantime.

  Instead, she was wide awake, her body flushed and yearning. She didn’t turn as he finally came into the room. He hesitated for a long moment by the side of the bed, staring down at her. She kept her breathing slow and even, until he finally peeled back the covers and settled on the bed as far from her as he could get.

  She wanted to roll over and touch him, make him respond to her, and take what she’d wanted for so long. But more than that, she wanted him to turn to her, to finally—of his own volition—admit what they both knew. There was something between them, whether he liked it or not.

  The reason she’d suggested this bed-sharing farce in the first place was in the hope it would finally make him snap. Instead, he held himself still with rigid control, resisting her.

  If she wasn’t pretending to be asleep, she’d sigh in annoyance. Maybe it was all in her head.

  She stewed for a long, lonely time, aware Duncan was no more asleep than her.

  Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore. She rolled over, bringing her closer to Duncan. So close she could touch him with barely a movement. His breathing sped up, but he gave no other sign he’d noticed her.

  Well, if he was going to ignore her, she’d take advantage, exploring him at her will until he reached breaking point.

  She was sick and tired of him rejecting what was between them, and maybe this would be her last-resort weapon to convince him that it was real.

  She slid her arm out from under the covers, then hesitated. Duncan te
nsed, but made no move to stop her. His reaction restored her confidence, so she reached out and splayed her hand across his chest. His bare chest.

  His muscles flexed beneath her fingers, so she trailed her fingers over his lightly-furred pecs. She tested him, teased him, and he still made no move to stop her. He held still, taut as a bow ready to fire. Would he snap?

  She hoped so. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of what he might do.

  Bolder now, Mandy shifted closer. Heat radiated from his body. Her heart pounded in anticipation and she licked her lips. Her hand drifted down, beneath the covers, trailing her palm lightly over his rock hard abs.

  “Mandy,” he groaned, but he still didn’t stop her. She grinned in triumph.

  Shifting forward even farther, she pressed her front against his side, her still-clothed breasts against his arm. His breathing hitched again, but he didn’t look at her, just stared straight up at the ceiling. She narrowed her eyes. That would be her next hurdle.

  She tilted her head and pressed a kiss on his chest where her hand had been moments before. He groaned again, the sound reverberating through her. She kissed him again, and again, listening to his breathing shift and change. Still, he held himself still and controlled.

  She moved up onto her elbow so she could reach more of his chest. She darted her tongue out to taste him, clean and fresh from his recent shower. Her kisses grew hotter, wetter, as she opened her mouth over his skin. He groaned, his hips shifting a little, betraying his hard-fought control.

  Mandy grinned and let her hand drift lower so it grazed the waistband of his boxers. He held his breath in an anticipation, so Mandy dived her hand beneath the elastic and grasped her prize.

  His groan was long and low. He was thick and hard, so aroused she was surprised he’d managed to stay so still.

  She stroked him, her lips still on his chest, and he swelled even further.

  She raised her eyes to assess how far away he was from breaking, only to lock her gaze with his. He watched her with a burning intensity that stole her breath. She froze like a deer in the headlights, and they both just stared at each other for a long, fraught moment.