International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Page 33

  “You know what they all say?” she murmurs, the sound more like a humming purr.

  I close my eyes, knowing she’s going to say something to the tune of “the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

  “A night of guilt-free fucking can cure all?” she says, smugness rife in her tone, any speck of insecurity gone in an instant.

  Bo snaps his fingers and raises his voice enough so that both of us can hear him. “I’ve actually heard that one and believe in it wholeheartedly!”

  I tip my head back and laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

  Fighting the attraction between us.

  Guilt over having not yet talked to Skyler about what she’s done.

  And my wish to not be in this predicament in the first place.

  If Skyler hadn’t fucked me over, I’d be able to brush Alexis off with nothing more than using the g word and committed relationship, but it would serve her right if I hopped into bed with Alexis.

  Hell, I could take pictures and send them to her. She likes sending texts. “Here are a few of me and another hot blonde. Hope you had as much fun with your ex as I’m having with this bombshell.” Yeah, that’s what I’d do. Hurt her the way she hurt me.

  Then the thought of Skyler hearing about how I’d stepped out the same way she did makes the acid in my stomach swirl and clench so hard I might end up getting sick. No, I’m better than that. Better than banging anything hot with legs just to piss off my ex, or soon-to-be ex, depending on who you ask.

  Fuck! I can’t think about this anymore. I’ve got work to do.

  “Look, it’s a very nice offer, Alexis, and a different me would be more than happy to take you up on the incredible experience I know we’d have. But, I can’t. I just . . . It’s not happening.” I turn and head down the hallway, leaving her and Bo to a battle of the sexes.

  When I get back to my interview space, I note Spartacus is curled up in my chair. “Hey, buddy, what are you up to?” I lift the cat and place him in my lap. Surprisingly he curls right back up and plants his head dead center of my stomach. I run my fingers through his velvet-soft fur. “You understand what it’s like, right? To love someone so much and not know how to let them go?”

  Spartacus yawns, stretching his mouth open wide, and rubs his head against my abdomen. His warmth and gentle purring presence start to allow the tension in my body to seep out. With every long stroke across his furry body, another bundle of negative energy leaves me until, eventually, my eyes close, I lean back in the chair, and for the first time all week, I can finally take a full breath. My stomach isn’t as knotted, and I feel at peace.

  Fuck.

  I need to get a cat.

  Two hours later, I’ve interviewed another individual and Mrs. Wendy Pritchard is entering my office.

  “Go ahead and shut the door, Mrs. Pritchard.”

  Her lips twitch with a smile she’s holding back. The padlock around her neck gleams in the light. She’s wearing a pair of royal-blue leggings, suede ankle boots, and a black-and-white checkered top that hits midthigh with a yellow belt hanging at her hips. She’s got silver hoops in her ears and a soft pink color on her lips. On her hands are fishnet fingerless gloves.

  A style icon in her own right. Every time I see her clothing I wonder if I like it or not. Regardless, it always works for her.

  “Hey, boss man, how goes it?” She sits down, spins in a 360-degree circle once, and then stops her spin by catching herself on the table.

  I chuckle. “You know I called you in here like a regular interview so we can hash out some of this crap and the others wouldn’t become suspicious, right?”

  “Totally.”

  “And . . . Mrs. Pritchard?” I cock an eyebrow.

  She beams, her happiness like a ray of light bursting straight from the center of her chest and lighting up the room. “Isn’t it awesome? Sir Mick spanked the hell out of me for it.”

  I frown. “Why? He didn’t like you using his name?”

  She jerks her head and tilts it to the side. “Uh, no. He liked it very much. Duh, that’s why he spanked the hell out of me. Reward. Heeeelllloooo?”

  I spend a few moments mulling that information over.

  Wendy purses her lips. “That’s right. I forget how vanilla some of you guys are. I’m sure Bo would have gotten the joke. Though don’t you dare tell him. He’ll come up with an endless number of spanking-related things to bother me with for a solid week.” She groans. “Man never shuts up. Sometimes I want to ball gag him and weld the damn ends together so he can’t get it off.”

  “Duly noted.”

  She preens as if we weren’t just talking about spanking and ball gags. When the hell did my relationship with Wendy change so dramatically?

  “Since we don’t have a lot of time, let’s get right to the point.” I move forward with getting the information I need.

  “Okay, boss. I’m ready.” She sits on the edge of her seat, rests her elbows and hands on the table, and waits for my next response.

  “Royce found nothing in the financials. I’ve found nothing in the interviews, and I only have a handful left.”

  “Even Kidd Stanton?”

  I pause and sit back in my chair. “What about Kidd?”

  She takes a deep breath and lets it out as if she’s gathering her thoughts. “I’ve been going through his code. There’s a distinct method in which coders write. Almost like a fingerprint. There are idiosyncrasies that I can see between the way Alexis codes and Kidd’s coding. His isn’t nearly as advanced or secure as hers, but he’s damn good.”

  “All right, what else?”

  “Based on the bit of digging I’ve been able to do in between the projects and training, I’ve found at least three places that were funky. One was a bug in the system that looked like it was placed there. The coding matches Kidd’s style. Another was wonky coding—and let me be clear, even the best of us screw up sometimes when we’re tired or whatever. This . . .” She shakes her head.

  “What? Just say it.”

  She winces. “This looks intentional. As though he meant to write something that was going to trip up the system. Worse, it’s so blatant that the average techie would skim right over it. Kind of like it’s so amateur, it’s hidden in plain sight in a way. Does that make sense?”

  I lean back in my chair and tap my lips with my index finger.

  Why would Kidd Stanton write bad code that his sister could easily find?

  Why would he bug the system?

  “It doesn’t make sense. I sat with the guy. He has his sister’s name tattooed on his arm.”

  “Yeah, I saw that. It’s pretty cool. I’d like to get something with Mick on it.”

  “Anything else? Another staff member in the department doing strange things?”

  She shrugs. “One chick is kind of standoffish. Kind of like she’s put out that I was hired to be on the team. Even made the comment that she didn’t know why I was there when she could easily pick up the department’s slack.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Eloise Gagnon. Worked here several years.”

  I thumb through the leftover stack of files on my desk and pull hers out. “I haven’t interviewed her yet.”

  “Seems standoffish, but it could be she wants a promotion or something and is bummed that I was brought on instead of giving her the promotion.”

  I nod. “Perhaps. I’ll find out for sure. Good work. Keep digging into the other coders. Make sure to get into those products that were leaked and evaluate the coding there.”

  “Got it. That was my next step anyway.” She runs her fingers through the hair at her temples.

  “All right. You can go back. Tell this Eloise she’s up next.”

  Wendy pushes her chair back but doesn’t rise. “How are you doing today?”

  I glance up and into her clear blue eyes. “Wendy . . . not at work.”

  She looks chagrined, and her cheeks flush pink. “Sorry . . . I j
ust . . . Have you called her yet?”

  I sigh. “No.”

  Her lips move into a flat line. “I don’t know how to do this.” She worries her fingers in her lap.

  “Do what?”

  She lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “Be okay with the fact that I know you’re wrong. And you’re hurting. And I hate it. I hate it so much because I feel like it would be so easy to fix if you would just call her.” The words leave her mouth in a rush, but once they do, I can see the second she realizes all she revealed. “I’m . . . oh my God. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t . . . it’s not my place.”

  The knife that’s skewering my heart digs a little deeper, stealing my breath right along with it. My heartbeat becomes erratic, and my entire body warms. I clench my good hand into a fist on top of my leg, trying to manage my out-of-control feelings.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Parker . . .” Her voice cracks, and with it, a lightning bolt sizzles straight into my stomach, singeing muscle and tissue in its wake.

  “Wendy, I know you mean well, and you are a godsend to the IG team. You are one of us. That isn’t going to change. But you have to stop.”

  God, please make her stop. I can’t deal with her hopefulness on top of the overbearing dread filling my soul.

  I think for a moment and then take a different approach. “Look, I’m dealing with what happened between Sky and me the only way I know how. This is not the first time a woman broke me. Okay?”

  “What?” she gasps, her hand flying to her chest.

  Dammit. I did not want to go there again. I’m trying desperately to leave her in the past. Deal with this new hurt and move on.

  Wendy sits absolutely still, waiting for me to continue.

  “Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version. I was engaged in college. Kayla McCormick. She used me and betrayed me by fucking my best friend, Greg, while wearing my ring and doing so in our bed.”

  Her eyes turn the size of coasters. “Ho-bag . . . ,” she growls through her teeth.

  I grin. “Undeniably. And since then, I haven’t trusted a woman with my heart until . . .”

  “Skyler.” She closes her eyes as if the information is slamming into her and breaking her heart into little pieces the same way it’s done to mine.

  “Yeah.” I lick my lips and try to clear the sudden emotion swelling around us.

  “I didn’t know.”

  “You had no way of knowing. It’s not something the guys or I talk about. With good reason. Because that was a shit time in my life. Right now, what I’m going through is another shit time.”

  Her hand shakes as she reaches out and puts hers on top of mine. She squeezes it. “I want to help you. How can I help you?”

  I embrace her hand firmly. “Just be my friend, Wendy. Be there like you promised you would.” I shake my head. “But don’t try to fix me. You can’t. This is not something you can do for me. I have to find the right way to get past it.”

  Her lip trembles. “But . . . but, what if the right way is to give Skyler a second chance?” Her eyes fill with such hope and love it’s hard to look at her without crumbling or alternately punching another wall.

  “How’s about I promise to think about it?”

  That light I saw when she walked in flickers back on. “Really?”

  “Really.” I squeeze her hand once and let it go. “Now get out of here. I’ve got this interview to finish tonight, and then I need to let off some steam. Now that Bo is in town, maybe the four of us can head out. Away from this side of town of course.”

  “Righteous! I’ll find a place.”

  “I actually have been recommended one called Brutopia. And it’s Wednesday night. They might even have live music.”

  Her entire face glows beautifully. “I love live music.” There’s awe coating her tone.

  I grin. “I know you do, minxy.” I wink. “Make sure the guys are on board. I’m heading out in an hour.”

  “Will do, boss man.”

  “See you later, Wendy.”

  She grins, and her shoulders go up to her ears. “I can’t wait to tell Mick I’m going out for a night on the town with the guys.”

  “Uh, do you think that’s wise?”

  A wicked smirk slips across her lips. “Oh yeah. It will mean serious punishment when I get home. I may not be able to walk for days after. I can’t wait!” She shimmies in her heels, wiggling her tiny booty.

  Again, in her presence, I can’t help but laugh.

  “Glutton!” I tease as she opens the door.

  “For my man’s lovin’, you know it.” She maneuvers her fingers into the shape of a gun. “Bang, bang, I’m out!”

  I snort and lean back in my chair. Once I do, an orange fluff ball lands on my lap, forcing me back to a normal seating position. Spartacus looks at me as though I’ve disturbed him and not the other way around.

  “You think you own the universe, don’t you, cat?”

  He looks at me as if we’re having a stare-off. I blink first, after which he pushes his head against my gut and starts to purr.

  Before I can move the cat, Wendy’s back at my door.

  “Hey, Eloise left early today. Doctor’s appointment. It was on her calendar.” Her voice dips. “I checked.”

  “Of course you did.” I’d tell her that she’s done well, but then she’d get a big head. “Well, looks like I’m out of here. If this cat will ever let me up.” I point down to my lap where Spartacus has deemed me the perfect napping spot.

  “Aw, so cute. You know . . . cats have an innate sense of good people. Also, studies have linked lowered stress levels in people when they are petting a cat or snuggling up to a kitten.”

  I raise my hand and point to the door. “Out.”

  “It’s true, though! Fine. Bye!” She scampers off.

  I look back down at Spartacus and run my hand through his fur several times. “You’re a pain in the ass, getting my slacks all furry with your orange hair, but”—for this, I lean down close to him and run my chin against his soft head—“you do make me feel better. Thanks for keeping me company.”

  6

  Brutopia is a hip-looking western-style bar in the heart of downtown Montreal. You have to go up a set of rickety wooden stairs to get to the heavy door. Inside, the place has a healthy number of patrons eating and drinking beers and cocktails. The place seems small from the inside, but as the four of us move closer to the lone bar, we can see there’s a small stage where musicians are setting up their instruments with a small dance floor and seats all around it. Farther back through a cutout in the wall, I note a much larger back end to the bar. A hint of a pool table can be seen from where I stand.

  Wendy shimmies in like a colorful butterfly flapping its wings. “This place is righteous!” she says with awe.

  Roy looks around, placing his hands in his pockets. “Glad I changed.”

  I grin and assess his attire. He’s still wearing his dress slacks, only he’s paired them with a thin long-sleeved shirt made of white cotton. The white against his ebony skin seems to glow under the low lights in the bar. I clap him on the bicep. “Too true. Should we start with a drink, find a seat, and order?”

  “Hell yeah.” Bo claps me on the back, eyes scanning all the women in our immediate vicinity as he heads to the bar. “Shot of tequila and whatever’s cold on tap you recommend.”

  Wendy raises her hand. “Ooh, ooh, me too! Same.”

  I glance at Roy, who gives me the side-eye and grins in agreement. “We’ll have the same.”

  Bo’s eyebrows rise up. “Is that so? We’re doing this, then. Getting shit-faced.”

  I run my hand through my hair, messing it up even more than it already is. It’s overly long and needs a cut, but I don’t care. I don’t care much about anything right now. “Yep.”

  Royce shakes his head. “Not sure I’m going to get shit-faced, but the night is young, and I saw a trumpet and a trombone setting up.”

  Wendy tur
ns her head to look around Roy’s large form. “Killer! This is going to be so fun!”

  The bartender sets four shots of tequila on the counter with a wedge of lime on the rim. He then proceeds to draw four pints into what look like chilled glasses.

  He sets the four glasses near the shots. Bo passes out the shots and pints to each of us. “What should we drink to?” He smiles wide, his goatee and mustache trimmed to perfection.

  I’m plumb out of anything positive or motivational to say. Wendy holds up her shot glass, and we all follow her move in a game of monkey see, monkey do.

  “I think we ought to drink to . . . trusting your heart. Let our hearts lead us to our very own happiness.”

  My own heart clenches like a vise is around it, the invisible dagger Skyler wedged there still lodged deep. I close my eyes and take a breath.

  “Hear, hear.” Royce clinks his glass with hers.

  Bo does the same. “Cowboy up.”

  I open my eyes and focus on each person’s gaze one at a time, proud that I’m standing right where I am, that I have the support of these three people to help me find my way.

  “To trusting your heart.” I clink my glass, suck back the shot, and let the blessed heat of the alcohol slide down my throat and warm my gut for what feels like the first time in ages. The tightening of my heart abates a little more as I wash the shot down with two long pulls of the cold beer.

  “Let’s find a seat near the band,” Wendy says excitedly. The woman is barely containing her exuberance. It’s refreshing to see someone enjoying themselves every day. Using every minute God gives them to appreciate the goodness in their life.

  “So, tell us your story, Wendy.” I sit down in the booth as she dips into the center, Bo sitting next to her, Roy in the one chair across from her. The booth only fits three and is an odd curved shape.

  She blurts, “We’re gonna need another round of shots for that to happen.”

  “On it!” Bo smacks the table and gets up, shucking off his leather jacket and putting it on the hook near our table.

  Royce eases his chair to the side so he can see the band setting up behind him. “Looks like a seven piece. This ought to be good. Haven’t heard horns live in a while.”