Dangerous Games (Aegis Group, #3) Page 4

  They crowded into an elevator with half a dozen other people. The close confines meant she was practically plastered to Zain’s backside. She could feel the warm plastic of the arm, wires under his shirt, and all that muscle.

  Down, hormones.

  Where the hell did she put her hands? They were packed in so tight she might accidentally cop a feel. She settled for placing her palms against Zain’s back. She could feel the minute shift and flex under that shirt. He really was all muscle.

  The people got out, floor by floor, in ones and twos. She shuffled away, holding her too-warm hands to her chest as soon as there was room. It was totally not right to perv on the guy. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to notice her weak-in-the-knees moment. Eventually they were the last ones left, riding up to the forty-second floor.

  “I did some digging earlier.” Zain leaned against the wall, hands grasping the rail.

  Andrea blinked, struggling to drag her brain into the moment and off the very potent memory of his body pressed against hers. Her gaze drifted back to the gray arm as, once more, lights sprinted up to his shoulder. It was so dang cool.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Into who might have trashed your room.”

  “Oh. Right. Find anything?”

  “Nothing substantial, running some background checks.”

  “You can do that?”

  “It’s part of my job.”

  “I still can’t wrap my head around this.” She leaned against the adjacent wall, the wind knocked out of her sails.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “What is it you do, exactly? I know you said private security, but what does that mean?”

  “What do you want it to mean?” He shrugged.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “But it is. The company I work for—Aegis Group—they cover a lot of security needs.”

  “Okay, but what do you do?”

  “I run the IT side of things.”

  She got the feeling that IT was a far bigger umbrella, that covered a lot more than installing printer drivers and new operating systems.

  “What’s Aegis’ bread and butter?” she asked.

  “Security details and asset recovery.”

  “Asset...recovery...?”

  “Fancy way of saying we rescue kidnapped people, usually ones the government can’t get back.”

  Now she knew he didn’t just set up user accounts.

  The elevator dinged, announcing their floor.

  So. Many. Questions.

  The last thing she wanted to do was share him with a room full of people, but not going wasn’t an option now that Miranda had summoned her.

  Andrea led the way down the hall. People loitered outside the suite and music could be heard through the open door. The party was in full swing, which meant there was the smallest chance Andrea could get in and find a spot to hold up the wall without getting entangled in small talk.

  She presented her badge to the volunteer stationed at the door. He marked their hands and that was it. Party time.

  Several acquaintances smiled and waved, but she didn’t pause to talk. It wasn’t Andrea’s first time at one of these. She’d been a Grunge employee since before they’d been bought out by Dark Matter and had poured her soul into the company since then.

  “Want a drink?” Zain gestured at the bar, where two men in sombreros were mixing complimentary cocktails.

  “Sure.”

  “Any requests?”

  “Something with alcohol.” She needed the liquid courage.

  “As you wish.”

  Andrea smiled at Zain’s back. Whether the Princess Bride reference was intentional or not, it amused her. Zain was something of a pirate. His company sounded almost mercenary, but in a good way. A good pirate?

  “There you are.” Miranda squeezed Andrea in a tight hug.

  “Hi.” She patted her boss’ back in an awkward embrace.

  “Don’t say anything about the laptop,” Miranda whispered.

  “Oh.”

  “Cliff, Doug, you remember Andrea?”

  Miranda stepped back and gestured toward a dark haired, beady-eyed man. He wore jeans and a Dark Matter Games shirt, much like Andrea’s tank top. And why wouldn’t he? Cliff Barnes owned the company and Grunge. His VP, Doug Mahoney, wasn’t far behind him. While Cliff fit right in, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, Doug wore business casual and tended to talk more to breasts than eyes.

  “You’re one of the D7 girls.” Cliff held out his hand, his voice flat.

  It was hard to gauge the man. He was monotone and his energy levels were flat. She could never tell if he was pleased with something or wanted her dead.

  “Yes, that’s me and Crystal.”

  “Nice shirt.” Doug’s gaze never rose from her neckline. Typical. His gaze slid sideways to Miranda’s impressive cleavage. “Miranda. Looking perky.”

  “Thanks,” Andrea muttered and adjusted the flannel over shirt. She had no idea how Miranda put up with Doug—or why.

  “Crystal and Andrea were some of my best hires.” Miranda beamed at her. Miranda never let an opportunity to brag on her or Crystal pass her by. Even if it was out of nowhere.

  “The cat lady?” Cliff asked.

  “Yes, Crystal is a self-claimed cat lady.” Andrea nodded, wishing now more than ever Crystal was there to start bullshitting with Cliff. Crystal could start rambling about her cats, Cliff would go all glassy eyed and wander off mid-sentence. It was a perfect plan. Except this time, there was no Crystal.

  “I’m sorry she couldn’t make it. I look forward to seeing your concepts tomorrow.” Cliff’s gaze was steady, focused all on her, which was unnerving. She preferred to skate by, unknown.

  “Cliff, the jugs are calling for you.” Doug patted their boss on the shoulder and thumbed behind them at two YouTube personalities waiting for an interview.

  Two female interviewers.

  Great.

  They were jugs now.

  “Excuse me?” Cliff glanced over his shoulder and waved at the two women. “Let’s hope I’m not too boring, huh?”

  Andrea blew out the breath she’d been holding. At least she hadn’t stuck her foot in her mouth in front of the big boss. Doug could go screw himself for all she cared. Not wearing the dress was probably for the best. He’d have just commented on her breasts or legs or something equally obnoxious.

  “Andrea?”

  She turned to face Zain, who was holding a red plastic cup full of something blue and fruity smelling.

  “Oh, thank God.” She latched onto the cup and downed a good quarter of the liquid before she actually tasted it. Pineapple something. It worked for her.

  “Who is your friend, Andrea?” Miranda jabbed Andrea in the ribs.

  She glanced from Miranda’s flirtatious smile and fluttering eyelashes to Zain.

  Fuck.

  It was starting.

  “Miranda, this is Zain. Zain, my boss Miranda. She started Grunge Games.”

  Yeah, she could go home now. Miranda was dressed to impress in a black wrap dress that was both professional and sexy. Andrea’s borrowed clothes didn’t stand a chance. She sipped more of her drink to hide her disappointment. Gulp was more like it.

  “Pleasure to meet you.” Zain shook her hand.

  “You must be the Captain Hook from earlier.” Miranda’s gaze slid toward Andrea.

  “That would be me,” Zain replied.

  “Well, thank you for looking out for my girl. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Want to join us for a drink?” Miranda waved toward the windows where Tamara, Piper and the fourth member of their group, Rashae, were holding court with a couple other people.

  Zain glanced at her, as if Miranda had asked Andrea to join them and not the hottie-pa-tottie.

  “Sure.” Andrea drew the word out.

  Of course, I want to watch a bunch of girls flirt with the dreamiest man I’ve ever met.

  Andrea was being petty—and sh
e knew it—but it didn’t stop the negative thoughts from clouding her mind. In a lineup with those four women, she was overshadowed.

  “I’m going to need another drink, first.” She peered into the bottom of her empty cup. How had that happened so fast?

  “I’ll get that for you.” Zain plucked the plastic cup from her hand and was gone before she could come up with a reason to do it herself.

  “He is cute. Oh my God.” Miranda hooked her arm in Andrea’s and hauled her off toward the group. “Where did you find him?”

  “He was taking the elevator up like me.”

  There was literally no way for Andrea to escape. The group closed ranks around her immediately.

  “Holy hell.” Tamara climbed up on a square side table, peering through the crowd. She was short enough it didn’t draw too much attention. “Was that him?”

  “Way to go, Andrea.” Miranda gave her a high-five.

  “He’s got a nice ass. Think he’d let me put him in spandex?” Rashae winked and sipped her drink. Rashae was a brilliant costume designer. She could make just about anyone look amazing with the right fit. Andrea’s Princess Leia gown was one of Rashae’s designs. Zain in one of her spandex suits would be...comical or hot. Knowing Rashae though—hot.

  “Can you make him a Deadpool outfit?” Miranda chuckled.

  “I don’t know, he doesn’t strike me as the anti-hero type.” Rashae pivoted toward Andrea. “What do you think? He seems more like a classic hero type to me.”

  “You’re the designer, not me.” Andrea shrugged.

  “Come on.” Miranda nudged Andrea with her shoulder. “Who do you think he should dress up as?”

  “Captain America.”

  “Really? With that face, I’d think more...Wolverine. Someone a little rougher.” Miranda wiggled her hips as she spoke and the others laughed.

  “Down, girl.” Rashae gave Miranda the side-eye-glare. “That’s your libido talking.”

  “I know. Cut me off now.” She handed her drink over to one of the other girls and straightened her black-wrap dress.

  Andrea chewed the inside of her mouth. Just because he had a scar on his face didn’t mean he was an anti-hero. It didn’t define who he was. Zain was...classic hero material. Not that there was anything wrong with Deadpool or Wolverine, but they weren’t Zain’s type.

  She needed a drink or five to get through this. She failed at being a real girl. There was no way he’d look at her twice after meeting the rest of Miranda’s group, not that she had any right to him. It still stung. Talk about salt in the wound. The guys didn’t accept her, and she couldn’t measure up on the girl stuff. Maybe she should have gone home. Saved herself the embarrassment.

  “Hello, Captain, my Captain,” Miranda called out as Zain approached.

  People turned, eyeing Zain. Even Andrea, practically female-illiterate, could sense the hungry-woman vibe.

  She snatched her drink from Zain’s hand and sipped while Miranda made the introductions, one of her perfectly manicured hands resting on Zain’s chest. That oh, so muscular chest.

  Kill me now.

  Kevin slid between the people, nodding and pretending he belonged. Every now and then, he’d pause and speak to someone as if they were supposed to know each other. That was the nice thing about nerds. They were socially inept enough no one would outright ask him where they’d met.

  He had one goal tonight: Plant the fliers and watch Andrea’s world burn.

  First order of business was to snag a drink at the bar. The name of the game tonight was blending in. Letting people forget he was there.

  Kevin took whatever the special was and surveyed the room.

  The Dark Matter executives were easy to pick out in their business attire, except the big boss who wore jeans and a threadbare T-shirt, while everyone else wore jeans or some other conference outfit. Costumes seemed to be a thing. He filed that away for later and continued his perusal of the room.

  A loud peal of laughter drew all eyes toward the cluster of women nearest the windows. Andrea’s group stuck out, all tits and ass.

  Damn it.

  He was there.

  That guy.

  The same one from earlier.

  Kevin’s grip tightened on the plastic cup. He’d have to be careful with that one. The afternoon’s snooping hadn’t yielded anything on the man. Not even a name, which he needed to find out more.

  “Kevin.”

  Cliff stepped in front of Kevin, hand outstretched. He glanced from Cliff’s hand, to the man, and back again.

  Was he serious?

  “Hey, man.” Kevin grasped the shorter man’s hand and gave it a pump.

  “Nice to see you around. Still working for—what’s that company?”

  “No, I migrated into private consulting.” Consulting for how to get rid of problems.

  “They’re fucking loud, aren’t they?” Cliff grimaced and nodded toward the women.

  “Having a good time, I guess.”

  Cliff muttered something unintelligible. Kevin ignored it. The man was always talking to himself. They stood in silence for some minutes, watching the crowd, the interactions. If it weren’t for the noise, it would almost be peaceful.

  Kevin had always operated best on the fringes of society. Maybe that’s why he and Speckles got on so well after all these years.

  They had secrets better left unsaid.

  There was a reason Speckle’s parent’s murder was still an unsolved mystery. Because they were smart enough to not speak of it. Ever.

  “’Scuse me.” Cliff strode off without further explanation.

  An influx of people thickened the milling crowd. Kevin shifted, standing on the edges of groups, sliding ever closer to his lone target. Andrea had broken off from the main cluster of women after a few minutes and meandered her way haphazardly through the room. Judging by the way she was downing her drink, her shadow would be refilling her cup soon.

  Good.

  Alcohol was the perfect lubricant for this situation.

  It was also the kind of opportunity he needed.

  Kevin switched his cup with a random empty one from an end table and wove his way toward the sombrero-wearing bartenders. He loitered, allowing a few people to go ahead of him while he pretended to check his phone, waiting for his target to get into position.

  He didn’t have long to wait.

  A cool sensation swept him from the back of his head to his ankles. Kevin’s gut instinct said to turn, to face the perceived threat, but he didn’t move, except to shuffle forward in the drink line.

  He farted around on his phone for a few moments, doing his best to appear casual, normal. He took a step and pivoted, sweeping the suite with his gaze until he met a pair of dark eyes staring straight at him.

  Well, shit.

  So much for blending in.

  “Hey.” Kevin tipped his empty cup at Andrea’s shadow and glanced down at the man’s name tag.

  Well, hello, Zain Lloyd.

  It was time to find out a little more about this shadow.

  5.

  “There you are.”

  Zain turned from the awkward chitchat with a couple of dudes to face Miranda, Andrea’s boss. She slid her hand into the crook of Zain’s elbow and smiled up at him. She had a hungry-woman vibe to her. He’d watched a dozen different guys trail after her, but each got neatly turned away. He wondered what her deal was, but not enough to puzzle it out. Andrea was at the forefront of his mind.

  “How’s our girl?” she asked.

  He glanced over the heads of three or four people separating him from Andrea. She was engaged in conversation with a few people he didn’t recognize. They’d played this game since arriving at the party. She’d talk to one group, he’d join her and she’d move on, slipping away before he could follow. She was actively avoiding him. Why?

  “She seems to be having a good time.” He played the afternoon over again in his head. The only thing he could figure out was that he’d told her t
o answer her phone. Since that moment, it had all changed.

  “I can’t quite figure you out.” Miranda tilted her head to the side.

  “What’s there to figure out?”

  “Are you the kind of guy who’s going to hurt her or not?”

  “I wouldn’t hurt Andrea.” The words were out of his mouth before he could temper his reply.

  “Good, because I’d hate to sic Crystal on your ass. Andrea deserves someone who’ll be good to her.” Miranda smiled and sipped her drink.

  Did she think that was him? There was quite a gap between their ages, not to mention he wasn’t exactly playing with a full deck. Between his disability, the screws he’d had knocked loose and his job, he doubted he was good for anyone.

  Besides, Zain had the sneaking suspicion that Miranda was more vicious than she let on.

  “Speaking of Crystal, what about the doxxing?” he asked as a way to change the topic. “Andrea told me about it.”

  Miranda glanced over her shoulder, lip pinched between her teeth. A shadow of fear passed over the Latina’s face, so fast he might have missed it.

  “Come here.” She let go of his arm and nodded toward the windows where the crowd was thinnest.

  Zain gave Andrea one more backward glance. She’d moved again, to a small seating area where she and an Asian man were listening intently to something a third was saying.

  Safety in numbers, wasn’t that what she’d said?

  Andrea will be fine.

  Or so he had to tell himself.

  Zain followed in Miranda’s wake until he could lean up against the cool glass separating him from a forty-two story sky dive to the pavement.

  “Andrea said you do security work.” Miranda stared at him with none of the surface level cheer she’d dished out all evening. Her gaze was shrewd, calculating.

  “I do.”

  “I’m worried.”

  “I would be, too.”

  “I thought downplaying this mess to the girls was the best thing to do, but I’m not so sure anymore.” Miranda crossed her arms across her chest and faced the windows. The only person who could see the crack in her calm was him.

  “Back up, start at the beginning.” He cast a quick peak over his shoulder but could only see the back of Andrea’s head.