Skin Tight

CHAPTER 10

“Mia,did you finish running those reports yet?”

She clenched her jaw. “Working on it.”

Greg Evans smirked. “I need those before you leave tonight. Don’t forget.”

No wonder she’d never worked a regular job. She was discovering she had serious issues with authority.

It had been a week since she lost her mind and spent the night with a man whose real name she didn’t know. Mia expected regrets to spring immediately from that lapse in judgment, but instead, she regretted their truce had been for one night only. She wanted him, despite his murky secrets.

If nothing else, he’d proved her brain could shut off under the right circumstances. That gave her hope for the future. At least going home with him established Mark had been wrong; she could be spontaneous.

But she had a job to do. First she set the parameters for Greg’s stupid report. She knew the son of a bitch would just shred it, but she couldn’t break cover by telling him to fuck off. Her clients were paying for discretion.

Four names remained on her list of potential embezzlers. Unfortunately, the culprit had left no signs of his passage in company systems, which meant he was very good at what he did. Mia would have to be better. She’d studied their résumés and none of them had a Computer Science degree, but that didn’t mean they lacked knowledge. After all, she intended to access their financial records when she got home, and she didn’t have a CS degree, either. Some things you learned outside school.

Mia hadn’t worked in the facility long enough for intuition to give her a favorite. Plus maintaining the pretense of doing real work handicapped her investigation. Greg hadn’t believed her when she said, point-blank, she didn’t want his job. So he was constantly assigning her busywork, checking network protocols, troubleshooting workstations that didn’t need repair. Something was off here; she’d worked other classified assignments before, but nothing ever felt as wrong as this.

Maybe she’d been going at this from the wrong angle, assuming a single guilty party. Maybe Greg was in on it. Maybe he’d fixed the records. Though she rather doubted he was clever enough, that opinion could be colored by sheer dislike, as he’d made her life damned difficult the past few weeks. Mia decided to have a look at his bank records, too.

Quickly, she pulled his social security number from the system. Once she had that, she could do damn near anything. She tapped her fingertips on the desk, considering her suspects: two men, two women. Embezzlement was an equal opportunity crime.

Melissa Stuart, accounting manager. She was young to have landed in such a position of responsibility, not quite thirty. The woman favored designer clothing and expensive handbags, but her annual salary wasn’t impressive enough to support said couture habit, unless she carried heavy credit card debt.

Mia had seen Greg flirting with Melissa more than once. It didn’t mean they were conspirators, but she couldn’t imagine why anyone as pretty as Melissa would give Greg the time of day. The man was a bit of an IT troll. Putting him aside for the moment, she went on to her next suspect.

Darrell Brown, assistant controller. On the surface, he was the perfect employee. The man never came in late, never called in sick. He spoke little and fit the basic profile for antisocial behavior, which included theft from a sense of entitlement. More interesting, he had a sealed juvie record. Mia wondered what he’d done and whether it had any bearing on her investigation.

Janine Young, bookkeeper. She was a plump, motherly woman in her fifties who dressed like a Sunday school teacher. Janine often brought cookies and left them on the table in the employee break room for everyone to enjoy. She worked hard and got along with others, offering a smile and a kind word if they happened to pass in the hall.

Of her four suspects, Mia most hoped it wasn’t Janine. She liked her. But the woman had the opportunity to alter the books, siphon from the company. Once again, Mia faced the likelihood the embezzler had a partner. This crime was simply too clean for it to be one person.

Finally, she had Michael Troy, auditor. He was a weedy individual in his forties, average in every respect, save one. The man had a plethora of nervous tics. It was possible he’d always had them, just one of those things, but perhaps they came from guilt or stress. Some people started down a road without reckoning how rough the way would be. He might well be regretting his theft by now.

With a start, Mia noticed the time-after five. She went to the printer, pulled her report, and tossed it onto Greg’s desk. He was already gone for the day, no surprises there.

Like the other drones, she powered down her workstation and headed for the front doors. She’d do more at home.

On her way out, she waved at the employees who chatted with her during the lunch hour. Very few people went off-site to eat, because the facility was in the middle of nowhere. By the time one drove to a restaurant, the break was more than half over. She’d learned a lot about the place in general, but nothing helpful to her real task.

Mia told herself she wasn’t looking for Strong, but she scanned the lot as she unlocked her car. It wasn’t her business what time he left, or if he did. Sighing, she got in the car and drove to the condo, where Peaches waited at the front door. Though she’d never been a cat person, she couldn’t deny the satisfaction of coming home to a warm, furry body that didn’t care who she was. He only wanted her to fill up his dish and rub his belly.

She took care of the cat first thing and then changed out of her dark suit. Nobody-not even Kyra-knew Mia loved flannel pajamas, the louder and brighter the better. No sexy lingerie for her-she would take flannel any day. Today’s jammies had big gaudy hearts and pink stars on a white background. She jammed her feet into white fuzzy slippers, pulled her hair up into a bouncy ponytail, and rummaged in the cupboard for dinner.

Earlier in the week, she’d gone grocery shopping, mostly cans of soup and bagged salad, but it was nice to come home and eat dinner instead of ordering takeout or dining alone in a restaurant with a book. At least she had a cat for company.

After she ate, she powered up her laptop and dug out the social security numbers of her four suspects. She doubted she’d find anything in their personal accounts, but she’d check just in case. That took all of five minutes.

Nothing. No unusual deposits or large withdrawals. She’d expected as much, but it was a bit disappointing. Mia did confirm that Melissa carried heavy credit card debt, though, rendering the woman’s addiction to designer labels an expensive but lawful pursuit. It wasn’t enough to cross Melissa off the list, but she moved the accounting manager down to the bottom. She’d ask her to lunch tomorrow to see if intuition kicked in.

Before she could make further plans, a knock sounded. She sighed, thinking it was a friend of the old couple who didn’t know they’d gone to Arizona already. Mia didn’t bother with a robe; it wouldn’t take long to get rid of the unwanted caller.

“I’m sorry,” she began, flinging open the door.

It wasn’t a stranger, at least not entirely. Since she’d come home, it must’ve started to rain because droplets glistened on his hair, gilding his skin. His eyes glittered like the sea, threatening to drown her. He took in the picture she presented in silly pajamas, furry slippers, and a schoolgirl’s ponytail, and a teasing smile curved his mouth.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I thought you were someone else,” she muttered.

“Someone to whom you needed to apologize, I take it. May I come in?”

She clenched her jaw. How could she have ever thought she wanted him? He was fiercely aggravating. Mia didn’t bother asking how he’d found her. As HR director, he had access to all personnel information, including home addresses. If their situation were normal, she could sue him for harassment over a stunt like this. Since it wasn’t, she stepped back and waved him in.

“What do you want?”

“Would you believe me if I said you?”

“I’d think it was a nice line.” Mia shut the door behind him, trying not to color up over the way she looked. This was too close to reality for her tastes. At his place, she could pretend it was a fantasy interlude, nothing that would ever touch her real life, and yet here he was in her living room.

“These are for you.” He produced a bouquet of pink flowers, their petals glimmering with raindrops.

For a moment, she simply stared. Nobody had ever brought her flowers. It was the most ridiculous, courtly gesture. Part of her melted as she took them and fumbled in the kitchen for a vase.

“They’re camellias,” he said, sounding as nervous as she felt. “In the Ming dynasty, they were called the ‘most beautiful flower under the heavens.’ ”

“So you brought them to me?”

“Yes. It seemed fitting, as you’re the most beautiful woman under the heavens.”

Another line, but he delivered it with conviction.

A fist tightened around her heart. “Tell me why you came.”

“Very well. I have a proposal for you.”

Søren loathed the necessity of this. If there had been any alternative, he wouldn’t be here. It went against his better judgment to share even a portion of his secrets, but there was no way around it. She wouldn’t help him blindly, if she lent her assistance at all, and he’d already wasted months at Micor-and he was no closer to achieving his objective than when he’d hired on. At this rate, he could spend the rest of his life as Thomas Strong.

He took a seat at her gestured invitation. She sat across from him in a recliner. Fuzzy slippers peeped out from the overlong legs of her flannel pajamas.

“Are you suggesting a partnership?” she asked. “To what end?”

“You can get into the lab. I need to see what’s there.”

Her expression hardened. “Why?”

There was no help for it. He had to tell the truth. “I suspect Micor is conducting illegal experiments on human beings. I want to stop them.”

“What are you, Batman? You go around righting wrongs?”

Despite his tension, he smiled. “Something like that. But latex gives me a rash.”

Mia bit her lip, thoughtful. Søren wanted a taste, wanted to lick her lower lip until she kissed him back. He’d thought she could get no sexier than when she was bound to his bed, but tonight she had a touchable quality that made him want to pull her into his lap and bury his face in her throat. He set his hands on his knees to resist the impulse.

“If what you say is true, then they need to be stopped. We should inform the authorities at once.”

Søren sighed. He’d been afraid of this. “And tell them what? Our suspicions?”

What he planned for the Foundation did not involve the police or any civilized idea of justice. He wanted fire and blood, but he didn’t tell Mia that. He knew how far he could safely push her.

She frowned. “You’re right. We need evidence first, don’t we?”

“Which I can’t obtain unless I get inside the lab.”

“And that’s why you need my help,” she realized aloud. “I can get hold of the IT pass, which in conjunction with my ID badge will get us through the first security doors. But did you know there’s another set of doors past the computer lab? I don’t think my badge will work there.”

“Didn’t that raise red flags for you? What kind of facility is set up like that?”

“It did, actually, but I’m not being paid to wonder.”

That made him tense. “And it always comes down to money for you? Do you care about nothing more?”

“Easy for you to say,” she snapped. “I bet you always had plenty. You have that air about you.”

He blinked, surprised. “What air?”

“Old money. Culture.”

Though he was flattered, she had it wrong. There might linger some old-world habits, taught by his parents, but he certainly wasn’t aristocracy. Søren made a calculated decision to share a few facts. “Wrong. I’m the child of Danish immigrants. I was born in Copenhagen. We came to Minnesota when I was three.”

Two years later, he received the free vaccinations that changed everything. But he wouldn’t tell her that. That data would provide the link, explaining his obsession with Micor. Clever as she was, she’d make the connection between his curse and the facility he was determined to destroy. He walked a thin line; there was danger she would make that leap even without the missing piece. Where Mia was concerned, he needed to be careful. He couldn’t afford to underestimate her.

“Oh.” She seemed nonplussed, but at least she’d forgotten her embarrassment. “Then I’ll ask the obvious question: What’s in it for me?”

Fortunately, he’d expected that. “I’ll help you track down the thief. You can complete the job just before I make my move inside the facility. If we time it correctly, no one will ever know you were involved.”

“How do you figure?”

“You steal the IT pass and turn it over to me, along with your ID. You’ll depart, contract completed, leaving me the resources I need to go forward.”

As plans went, it wasn’t perfect. He’d examined the doors leading into the lab and determined he could crack them as a last resort. But he preferred to enter quietly, reserving violence for those who deserved it. The security guards would try to stop him if the alarms went off, and his gift didn’t include mind control. He couldn’t persuade the guards there was no one present if they expected a burglar. Søren didn’t want innocent lives lost; he just wanted the guilty to pay.

Therefore, he needed to bring equipment to crack the next set of security doors, if the passes didn’t work, as Mia predicted. Such an act would effectively kill his cover, so he had to make sure he tied up all loose ends before going in.

Including Lexie and Beulah May.

God, Lexie. He didn’t know if he could do it, even now. Her doctors were positive there was no hope, but the prospect of saying farewell hurt him. Yet he’d always known it would come to this. One final act, writ in ashes and death. He certainly wouldn’t tell Mia that. She wouldn’t like knowing she was easing his way in a suicide mission.

“You receive the greater benefit in this arrangement,” Mia said. “You need me, but I have plenty of time to uncover the embezzler. What makes you think I need your help?”

She was a skilled negotiator. Devalue the opponent’s position: check. Leave him nothing to bargain with. He smiled, fighting down his very distracting desire. Part of him would like to say, To hell with this, and carry her to the bedroom upstairs.

He leaned back, propping his ankle on his knee. “You’ll never find him. Or her. Without my assistance.”

Mia narrowed her eyes, as if she took that as a slight on her intellect, abilities, or possibly both. “Is that so?”

“Who are your suspects?”

Still scowling, she rattled off the names. It amused him just how far from the mark she was. “It’s not a regular employee. Not anyone in Accounting.”

Puzzlement flickered. “What are you saying?”

“No. I tell you nothing more until I get your agreement. Do we have a deal?”

She sat forward, staring at him so hard he felt slightly unnerved. “How do I know you’re not conning me?”

“You don’t. But the alternative is spinning your wheels for ninety days, only to discover I was right, you were wrong. Now you’ve botched the job, and your lovely, spotless record has a big blemish.”

By the way she stiffened, he knew he’d hit a sore spot. “That’s emotional blackmail.”

“If you’re confident you’re on the right track-that Micor is just like any other workplace-and you’ll have this sorted in no time, then tell me to go. Right now.” His eyes on hers, he leaned forward as well, elbows on his knees. “No? Then tell me you haven’t noticed how things are around there.”

“It’s wrong,” she admitted, low. “And I don’t think this theft fits the usual pattern.”

“Before I came in, you were wishing you hadn’t taken the job.”

“I get it; you’re smart. You can predict what people will say and do. You can read how they’re feeling.” Her dark gaze speared him. “But that doesn’t make you any happier, does it? It doesn’t fill you with warmth or take away the loneliness. You could’ve asked about this in the parking lot after work. Instead, you’re on my doorstep on a dark and rainy night, bearing flowers. You know what that says? You want to be with me, but you don’t know how to make it happen any other way. You’ve been alone so long, you’ve forgotten how to reach out to someone without a scheme.”

Bare-bones, naked. Søren stilled, hearing the truth in her words. He did want her. Another night with a woman who knew him, for all he didn’t deserve it. Mia left him feeling like a beggar at the gate, chastised for gazing too long upon the queen.

“You’re right,” he said. “There’s clear conflict between my claims and my actions. If this had been strictly business in my mind, I wouldn’t have come so late. I wouldn’t have brought flowers.”

But he’d glimpsed them in a store window while passing through town to her condo. He’d imagined the petals falling on her skin and couldn’t resist stopping. Telling himself it was only polite to bring a gift on a first visit, he bought them for her and continued on, stomach knotting over the fierce pleasure he felt at the idea of seeing her again.

Outside work. Yielding to temptation left him feeling off-balance and desperate. Søren felt he’d say anything to get her to agree to his company, under any circumstances. He wasn’t using her; he needed her. The distinction terrified him.

She nodded as if he’d gone up a notch in her estimation by conceding the point. “I believe you want my help. But what else?”

The question opened doors in his mind that had been closed for years.