The Playboy and the Mystery Lady
He flipped between screens, studying the accompanying images. The pictures showed a rider on a bike—his bike!—outside his home. Silhouetted against the night sky by the perimeter lights, the rider was obviously a woman. “When were these taken?”
“A few hours ago. Techs are running down the exact time. They’re checking for any satellites in the area, too.” Portia smiled her corporate-shark smile.
Damn. She was expanding her manhunt. He had to fix this, but he didn’t know how. “You could have had your techs email this to me, Portia.”
She tore the tablet from his hand. “Maybe I wanted to see your face when I met your new girlfriend, Killian. How long have the two of you been involved? Did you plan the bombing together?”
Such pain and venom in her voice. All directed at him. His shoulders slumped, his hands dropped to his sides. “How could you even think that? Why would I do that? You and Tommy are, were, the most important people in my life!”
That she believed he was involved in the attack that killed his best friend ripped a hole in his heart. Her attack reminded him where his loyalties lay—with Portia and Tommy.
“I have no idea what’s going on, Portia. That bomb turned my life upside down, too.”
“Your life was turned upside down?Yourlife?” The shattering of her icy façade was such a surprise, he didn’t see the slap coming.
The sting of his cheek shocked him. “He was my best friend too.” The words slipped out, proving what a selfish prick he was.
“He was my husband,” she choked out the words, her voice thick with emotion. Her eyes glistened and she blinked, fighting back tears. “Tommy was the only good thing—the best thing—in my life. Now he’s dead. Because of that bitch courier you’re hiding.”
Her words gutted him. Killian stumbled back a step. She closed the distance between him and smacked the tablet against his chest.
It didn’t hurt as much as the gaping hole where his best friend used to be.
Tommy. Portia. Dizzie. He wanted to do right by them all, but didn’t know how. Suddenly it was all too much. “I loved him too, Portia!”
She stopped hitting him. Stood too close and stared up at him with big blue eyes that reminded him of the courier.
“He was my best friend.” His voice was softer now that he had her attention. He curled his hands around her upper arms. He had her attention, but he needed to keep it. “He was a victim of the bombing, like we were. Like Dizzie was.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her muscles tightened and she tried to pull away. “Why do you keep protecting her?”
“It’s not her fault. It’s yours.”Fuck! Why had he said that?
She wrenched free, hitting him with the tablet and her fist. “How dare you?”
This time he threw his arms up to block her blows. They hurt, but not as much as her words and the pain in her voice. “Dammit, stop! That’s not what I meant. It’s the corporation’s fault—Tremaine Corporation—not yours.”
“She delivered the bomb!”
“Yes. A bomb she picked up from insideyourcompany. A delivery that somehow made it through your screening system to your courier.”
She stopped swinging and stepped back, wrapping her arms around her waist. The tablet dropped to the floor.
He wanted to make it better, but didn’t know how. She opened her mouth, but Killian spoke first.
“It all comes back to the Tremaine Corporation, Portia. Someone inside the company is behind this.” When he said the words out loud, it was the only thing that made sense.
“You’re thinking with your dick, Killian. She must have been a damn good lay for you to believe her lies in such a short time.” Her sneer was diminished by the tears sliding down her cheeks.
“Your grief is blinding you to other possibilities.” The words escaped before he could temper them.
She recoiled as if he’d struck her and dropped onto the bed. Wrenching sobs escaped her as she buried her face in her hands.
Fuck. Tommy would kick his ass for making Portia cry.
Killian sat next to her. “I’m sorry, Portia.” She flinched when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, so he pulled back.
