International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Page 24

  I frown and glance at Roy. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

  He runs his gaze over the slight woman. “Has no booty, but damn. Girl could be Rochelle’s sister.”

  I nod. “Weird,” I whisper, before Helen smiles and greets us.

  “Gentlemen. I’m back and ready to find out the goods. Did you find Rochelle a match?” Her eyes are more excited than should warrant for a simple employee. Then again, she did say she’d worked here for ages.

  “Client came to her own conclusions about the opposite sex and the individual’s contribution to her life,” Royce offers vaguely.

  She grins wide and squeals. “Eek. I can read between the lines. She’s got a man, but you can’t say one way or another because you’re all professional and smooth operators!”

  “We’re just going to go on in and wait for Rochelle, if you don’t mind.”

  Obviously excited, she waves a hand and leads us into her boss’s office. “Have a seat. I can get you some coffee . . .”

  Before either of us can accept, Rochelle and Keehan enter the room, both with dazzling smiles and a bounce to their steps. A lot of sex will do that for you. It’s exactly how I feel after a weekend with Skyler.

  Helen’s head lifts and turns to the door, but her eyes are not on welcoming her boss; they are focused solely on Keehan. “Hi, Keehan,” she whispers throatily.

  “Hey, Helen!” He greets her warmly, hooks an arm around her shoulders, and squeezes, giving her a side hug. “Long time no see. How was the time off?”

  She shrugs and pouts like a woman flirting and trying to get a man to look at her mouth. “It would have been better if I’d had a man like you to share it with.” Her eye color changes from a deep brown to coal black, and I can practically see the animated cartoon hearts floating around her head.

  Keehan nods. “Now that I understand.” He rubs her arm, and she sighs.

  Then Keehan continues, not realizing the effect his touch and words are having on Helen. “If I didn’t have Chelle to be with on my vacations, they’d be boring as all get-out too!”

  Helen’s nostrils flare at the mention of Rochelle, and her expression falters into one of irritation. As quickly as it crosses her face, it’s gone and a fake smile in its place.

  I am not getting a good vibe about this interaction.

  “Glad to have you back, Helen. It’s been rough without you,” Rochelle states over her shoulder, going to her desk and sitting down.

  “I doubt that,” Helen whispers under her breath, but it’s loud enough for me to hear.

  “What’s that?” Keehan asks.

  “Don’t doubt that.” She blinks up at Keehan prettily.

  “You remember the team from International Guy?” Rochelle asks.

  Helen’s lips twitch into a scowl for a nanosecond until she turns around and places the fake smile back on her face. “Yes, Ms. Renner. Introductions were made prior to me leaving. I was delighted to see you’d moved forward with your plan.”

  “I have,” Rochelle confirms, happiness filling the air in the office with positive energy.

  Helen twists her fingers together. “Any sparkling, noteworthy prospects?” Her voice wavers, almost as if everything in her existence is hinging on Rochelle’s answer.

  Rochelle’s entire face lights up. “Turns out, I didn’t need IG to find me a match.” Her eyes land on Keehan’s, and he moves from Helen’s side to Rochelle’s.

  Helen’s face goes completely blank as she takes in how close Keehan stands to Rochelle. “What do you mean?”

  I cant my head and watch her body language and the microexpressions as they flit across her face when Rochelle wraps a possessive arm around Keehan’s waist with her right arm and rests her other hand low on his belly above his belt. A very telling location. Rochelle’s body language telegraphs loud and clear the intimacy she and Keehan have shared.

  Helen inhales dramatically, and her hands clench into fists at her side. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Rochelle rubs Keehan’s belly up to his chest and stands by his side, bringing her body closer.

  Helen stands stiffly, her eyes blazing white-hot fire. “Not to me, it isn’t,” she grates through clenched teeth.

  “Rochelle finally saw what was in front of her all along . . . ,” I add, watching this woman silently fume. If smoke came out of her ears, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  “Which is what?” She scowls.

  “That Keehan is the man I’ve always desired, and I was too afraid to risk what we already had, of course.” Rochelle laughs, tipping her head up, and Keehan lays a big, fat smacker on her lips in front of all of us.

  Helen’s expression contorts into one of shock, then rage. “What!” she screeches unusually loud, almost as if it is ripped right from her very lungs.

  “You know, you were right all along, Helen. Apparently, Rochelle was hot for me,” Keehan jokes, nipping Rochelle’s lips. “We’re together now. Isn’t it fantastic!” He’s gazing into Rochelle’s face. He’s a man with the entire world in his arms, and he knows it.

  “No! All the conversations we’ve had. You said . . . you said you were only friends, and she’d never see you that way!” Helen’s response is one of a scorned lover, not a friendly employee.

  Keehan and Rochelle both cut their gazes to Helen, but it’s Keehan who speaks first. “I thought you’d be happy for us. You were always saying how I needed to get out, find a woman of my own. Someone I could take care of, who could take care of me.” He eases his woman’s chest to his front. “Rochelle has always been that, and we finally realized what we had was more than friendship.”

  The woman digs her hands into her hair and pulls at the waves, screeching, “This can’t be happening!” She shakes her head back and forth, her entire face darkens, and her pupils are completely black.

  I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience while watching a demon take over the petite body of Helen Humphrey.

  “You said she was your friend. You said you weren’t like that with her!” she yells at the top of her lungs.

  “Damn, girl, relax.” Royce raises a hand, but she continues in a storm of anger and begins pacing the floor.

  “Helen, what’s the matter with you?” Rochelle asks softly. “You’re acting strange. Are you feeling all right?” Rochelle moves out of Keehan’s arms and is set to approach the woman.

  I shake my head, and Royce stands up, creating a wall between Helen and the couple. Keehan pulls Rochelle back into his arms protectively.

  Helen points a finger at Rochelle. “You get everything! Everything you want. It’s all yours. The job. Money. The man! I’m so tired of being your little pushover doormat! I’m tired of watching you treat men like playthings. I’m tired of watching Keehan pine away for you, year after year, and never once look at me!” Her mouth twists into an ugly sneer. “I’m as good as you. No, better! Because I’m not a stuck-up bitch! My God, Keehan, you can’t possibly want to be with this trick!” Her body jolts with the effort of expelling so much fury, and she stands with her chest heaving and a nasty snarl about her lips.

  Keehan lets Rochelle go and walks around the desk toward Helen.

  Royce puts out a hand. “I wouldn’t if I were you. She’s unstable, man.”

  “Unstable!” she screams. “I’ll show you unstable.” She grabs a crystal vase filled with flowers and chucks it at Rochelle. It falls short, crashing through Rochelle’s glass desk, shards flying everywhere.

  Before Royce can finagle his arms around the spastic woman, she lunges for Rochelle with the strength and speed of a puma. Her little body lurches past Royce and Keehan and tackles the client. Rochelle falls to the floor, and she cries out.

  “Fuck!” I roar, and enter the fray, trying to step around glacier-shaped pointy desk pieces and get any kind of grip on the two women tussling, rolling around over glass, punching, kicking, and pulling hair. At one point, a black length of hair flies through the air, and I notic
e it’s one half of Helen’s extensions.

  “Bitch! Those cost a fortune!” Helen tugs at Rochelle’s hair, but nothing happens. Either Rochelle has awesome extensions, or her hair is real. My bet would be the latter.

  Rochelle rolls on top of Helen, grabs the other side of her hair, and rips that one out too, holding it up triumphantly.

  Helen screeches in pain and runs her pointed nails down the sides of Rochelle’s arms, leaving nasty red welts.

  “Bitch.” Rochelle reiterates what Helen called her. “Oh, hell no! I’m far worse, you triflin’ ho! I’m your worst fucking nightmare! You’re fired, and I’m pressing charges!” She grabs Helen by the head and smashes her skull down against the carpet. The woman’s eyes roll, and the fight leaves her body momentarily.

  I shove a piece of desk aside and kick at her office chair. “No . . . no . . . no!” I rush to grab Helen’s arms right as Royce loops one of his own arms around Rochelle’s waist and pulls her up into the air, where she kicks wildly. He twists and deposits her in front of Keehan’s chest. Her man wraps his arms around her immediately, locking her in place.

  “Hoo-boy! I can’t remember the last time I saw two women fight it out over a man.” Roy’s grinning while straightening his bespoke suit.

  I chuckle, because it’s impossible not to at this juncture.

  Royce picks up the phone off the floor and presses a button. “I’m going to need security in Rochelle Renner’s office. We have a woman who needs to be detained, and please call the police.”

  He nods and sets the phone in its cradle on the floor near the shattered desk. Large shards of glass point every which way, making her office a dangerous place for the two of them to have been rolling around fighting, but neither of them seems to need more than a first aid kit.

  While Keehan speaks to Rochelle in hushed tones in the corner of her office, I tend to Helen. Royce gets me a wet washcloth, and I wipe away the blood from her head and nose. She’s mumbling under her breath, and her gaze is unfocused. It’s as if she’s completely left the building altogether.

  I dip my head and try to hear what she’s saying.

  “Was supposed to be mine. I got the money now. He was supposed to be mine. I got the money now.”

  She keeps repeating the two sentences over and over, and it hits me what she’s referring to. The embezzled funds.

  “Roy, can you keep an eye on her? I have a call to make.”

  I glance down at the woman, who’s rocking back and forth, knees to her chest and chanting.

  I leave the office and walk down the hall, pull out my phone, and call Wendy.

  “Hey, boss man, did you get your girl?”

  “Girl?” I frown, thinking she’s referring to Skyler.

  “She’s been stealing from RFS. I sent over the report ten minutes ago. I narrowed it down to a Helen Humphrey. She’s the only employee who’s had majorly fluctuating finances with tens of thousands of dollars deposited every two to three weeks. Plus, when I dug a little deeper, she was doing it using Rochelle’s access code. Technically, it looks like Rochelle is stealing from herself.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, according to what I gathered, she’s stolen over six hundred thousand dollars in the last two years. The woman needs to be in a jail cell.”

  I look over my shoulder at the open office door and can barely see the slight speck of a woman who lost it this morning. “Or a psych ward.”

  “Uh, something tells me there’s a serious story behind that reply. One I’m eager to hear!” Wendy chuckles.

  “I’ll let Royce update you. I’m planning to visit Sky on my way home.”

  “Figured. Which is why I already have your flight taking you direct to the Big Apple tonight on the red-eye, instead of back home.”

  I grin. “You are the best.”

  “I know. Don’t forget it!”

  “Please, you’d never let me.”

  She laughs loudly. “True. True!” Her voice gentles. “Have you, uh, talked to Sky about the information I found?”

  I lower my voice. “Not yet. She knows I’ve got information to share and it’s not pleasant. Since we’re going home tonight, I’ll save it for when I see her.”

  “Face-to-face. Probably a good idea. Let me know if there’s anything else you need from me, and hopefully, you’ll come home soon. I’m tired of having the Flirt Master Two Thousand as my only company. Or better yet, next time you and Royce feel the need to flee, take him with you.”

  I’m laughing out loud and shaking my head. “Giving you a run for your money, eh?” I imagine Bo hitting on Wendy nonstop, barbs flying across the office, her verbal retaliation.

  “Nah, I can handle him.”

  “God willing!” I hear Bo’s instant quip, and then suddenly I’ve got his familiar voice in my ear as he continues. “Brother. Read through what Wendy sent over. I’m here for you. Whatever you need. If you want me to get on a plane and meet you somewhere to beat some ass, I’m right there with you. The shit he’s pulling with Sky . . . fuck no. Nuh-uh. Not one of ours.” He growls into the line.

  I close my eyes and press my fist against my forehead. “Thanks, Bo. For now, I’m going to head to New York, hash it out with Sky, and plan our next steps.”

  “I can meet you there. Hell, I can beat you there, with you being on the West Coast.”

  I grin. “’Preciate it, brother. More than you know, but I’m going to go solo on this one. Will let you know if any further action is needed.”

  “All right. You know I’m a phone call away.”

  “I do.”

  “Get back to it, then, and tell Roy I’ll be seeing him at the office. Sophie’s been calling about some document she needs him to look over immediately.”

  “Have her email it to him.”

  “She did. Apparently since he’s been so focused on you and the client, he hasn’t picked up his emails for the last couple of days.”

  I sigh. “We’ve been busy. Between this shit with Sky, the embezzlement, and finding the client a mate, it’s been one thing after another.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Also had Wendy look into Sophie’s new boyfriend.” Bo’s tone is neutral, not betraying anything.

  My heart starts pounding, and I’m worried Bo’s going to impart additional shitty information that will make me lose my mind. Skyler’s man issue is already running rampant in my head. I don’t need my best female friend’s new beau added to the list.

  “Please tell me he’s clean . . .”

  He chuckles. “Checks out. Wendy said she did her worst, and the dude is positively squeaky. And get this . . . apparently he recently visited a jewelry store and bought a very expensive item.”

  “You think he’s going to pop the question? Already? It’s been what, a month or so?”

  “Brother, I don’t know. You’ve seen Sophie . . . all of Sophie. Not to mention she’s smart, rich, and full of life. No reason to wait when you’ve got something like that on the hook.”

  “Says the man whose dick shrivels up and dies at the mere thought of commitment.” I rub at the back of my neck, trying to work out the tension. “Fuck. He’s going to pop the question.”

  Bo howls with laughter. “Suspect it.”

  “I’ll give her a call. Check in on her.”

  “Probably a good idea. Make sure she’s not jumping into her rebound man after you.”

  I instantly take offense. “I wasn’t her man in order for her to have a rebound, punk ass!” My voice sounds scathing even to my own ears.

  “If you say so. Woman seemed pretty hung up on you when we were in France,” he says with a nonchalance his comment doesn’t carry.

  “A lot happened when we were in France. Then everything, my whole freakin’ life, changed when I was in New York. And that’s forever, brother.”

  “Figured that too.”

  “Then why are you bringing this up?” I frown and tap against the wall of the hallway outside Rochelle’s office. I turn
around and lean my back against it.

  “Because I know how much you care for Sophie. How much we all do. Just want you to know, things are progressing in her love life at warp speed. The train has left the station, and it is not stopping.”

  I swallow down the instant worry I have about my friend being screwed over. Not every person is Kayla. Skyler’s not Kayla, and Sophie’s man isn’t either. Not everyone is out to burn another’s heart. “As long as she’s happy, I’m happy. The bastard better worship her.”

  “No joke.”

  No sooner do I finish my call with Bo than the elevator doors open and a pair of security guards leading a police officer walk up.

  “In there.” I point to Rochelle’s open door.

  The three of them enter, and I follow closely behind.

  I’m bone weary as I slouch into the comfort of one of Rochelle’s office couches. She’s lying longways on the opposite one, her forearm over her eyes. The cops have taken Helen for processing, and a team of janitors came and cleaned up the mess, carting away the giant shards of broken glass. Her office looks far too open and bare without the large glass desk taking up the bulk of the space.

  “We got lucky, you know,” I mutter to her prone form. Keehan and Royce are pulling together the final reports to give to the cops. Rochelle’s going to hire a forensic accounting firm to do a full audit of the company’s books to determine the extent of Helen’s damage. Eventually she’ll probably get back some of the money the woman stole, but these things take a long time when the legal system gets involved.

  “How you figure?”

  “Helen wanted Keehan. You had Keehan this whole time without even knowing it. She was doing everything she could to secure him. Used your access code to steal from you. Dressed like you. Did her hair and makeup the same. Never a good combination. Then she throws a vase at you, busts up your desk, and the two of you go at it.”

  She sighs. “I shouldn’t have been so stupid. He’s always been in my life. My right hand, the man I go to for everything. I compare all others to him and have always found them lacking.”