Defended & Desired Read online

  After leaving work yesterday, he’d dropped by John Paxton’s construction site and made two requests: a sledge hammer and commercial-grade work gloves. In exchange for those, he’d told John that the crew could knock a week off the timeline for his renovation. Because he planned to complete the demolition himself.

  Since then, he’d attacked drywall with a vengeance, tearing into the ugly wallpaper until every scrap lay on the orange carpet. During his one-man mission of destruction, he’d accidentally blown out a load-bearing wall, and part of house started to cave, creating the hole in his roof. He didn’t care. This entire half of his house was going anyway, to make room for his two-story, six-bedroom addition.

  Six bedrooms. For what? he thought sarcastically. The only family who’d reside there might be his brother and cousins and the occasional guest. Not that he wanted the guys to move in with him, but after a drunken binge they’d each have their own room to crash in. Fucking fantastic.

  Even though he’d been going at this for fourteen hours working through the night, and his muscles screamed for a break, fresh frustration refueled him with a burst of energy. Good thing he lived on several acres, miles from the nearest neighbor. Considering all the noise he’d made, he probably would have been cited for a nuisance violation. Didn’t matter. He would’ve paid the damn fine, told his neighbors to go to hell, and continued.

  The only way he knew how to deal with the emotional wreckage inside him was to slaughter bad decorating and leave drywall carnage in his wake.

  As the rain turned from a few drops to a steady mist, he heard car tires squeal on the road and then gravel crunched in his driveway. Not in the mood for visitors, he scowled.

  The car’s finely tuned engine revved, whirred then fell silent. A door slammed. He glanced out his kitchen window and saw Cade’s silver Porsche. Hell.

  Dropping the sledge hammer, he peeled off his gloves. He flexed his aching fingers, ignoring the sting of torn flesh on his palms where calluses had ripped open.

  His front door opened with a bang, and Cade raced into the foyer, a look of horror on his face. “What the hell? Trey!”

  “Yeah, over here.”

  Cade trampled over layers of dusty broken drywall to enter the living room. “What happened?”

  “Devon,” he replied. No explanation seemed necessary.

  The expression on Cade’s features shifted from concern to distress. “Did you guys split?”

  Trey’s lip curled. “She’s splitting. Leaving the state for a new job.”

  Stunned at first, Cade’s eyes gradually softened with sorrow. “When did you find out?”

  “Saturday.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  Trey scoffed. “What was I going to say? ‘Hey, the love of my life told me she can’t have kids, but she thinks I should go have a family without her, so she dumped me for a job.’”

  “Aww, man.” The bleeding-heart compassion pouring from his brother made him grit his teeth. He didn’t want Cade’s sympathy. He wanted Devon in his life. “That’s rough. You okay?”

  Trey spread his arms to encompass the demolition surrounding him. “Great. Couldn’t be better. Can’t you tell?”

  With a heavy sigh, Cade waded through the destruction. He approached and gripped Trey’s shoulder, then dragged him into a bear hug.

  The gesture of reassurance and commiseration dislodged the lump in Trey’s throat, and he choked on a surge of emotion. Then he shoved his brother away. “Quit that.” He blinked hard to contain the moisture in his eyes. “I’m not going to fall apart.”

  “I can see that,” Cade said with a touch of irony as he glanced around and took in the extent of the damage. “We were worried. It’s not like you to skip meetings and not show up at work.”

  “The office is the last place I want to be,” he muttered.

  “Now it makes sense, but you had me and the boys concerned.”

  “I’m still alive and kicking. Satisfied?”

  Cade shook his head. “Not really. You have half a house and hole in your roof. I’m going to call the guys.”

  “Why, so my cousins can see me scraping the bottom, messed up over a girl?”

  “I know how much she meant to you.” Cade’s piercing blue eyes sliced through him. His brother understood him better than anyone and recognized that losing Devon had blown a giant hole through his future and his heart. “They’ll bring beer—and a tarp to keep out the rain.”

  Trey weighed his options. “Better tell them to pick up a keg.”

  Cade grinned. “You got it.”

  *

  Tuesday evening, dusk and rainclouds turned the sky a deep purple as Devon pulled up to the location of her interview. She parallel parked on the street in front of the building, an old warehouse that had been converted to office spaces and loft apartments. Yellow light from streetlamps glistened on the wet pavement.

  A stab of remorse pricked her when she stared up at four floors of shadowy windows, questioning whether she should’ve come. Cancelling the interview had crossed her mind dozens of times over the past twenty four hours. She’d fought with herself, paced the floors of her house, battled confusion and frustration, and finally realized she needed to make a compromise.

  Her fierce independent streak had softened around the edges since Trey had kissed her for the first time and she’d accidentally fallen for him. But was it an accident? Could fate have brought her the one man who could tear down her walls and give her a glimpse of a beautiful, passionate future she’d never considered until him?

  After Dan left her at the altar, she’d pictured herself alone yet completely satisfied with her life choices. There was so much freedom to enjoy without a husband or family. She came and went as she pleased, took lovers as it suited her, and answered to no one. She could stow Peanut at a kennel and take off for a tropical island in a heartbeat. No one cared if she stayed up all night gaming online or slept until noon on the weekends.

  But therein lay the compromise—or sacrifice. No one cared. Sure, she had friends, Allison and Logan, the regulars from Jake’s Bar, and her coworkers. However, they couldn’t brighten her day with a phone call, or excite with her a caress, or wake her with a kiss and a smile every morning.

  Only Trey could do that. He cared about her, and she truly believed he’d do anything for her. Maybe even give up children to keep her in his life. He was so special and dear to her heart. So generous, kind, thoughtful. Unafraid to put his heart on the line and take a chance at love.

  Images of Phoenix faded like a mirage in the desert. That’s all it had been, a superficial fantasy. Not the warm, enduring, profound happiness she experienced with Trey.

  He’d told her yesterday that if she stayed, he wanted her in his life. She may have a lot of convincing to do, to prove herself to him after shredding his trust and stomping on his emotions because she was scared to open her heart completely.

  Deep inside, she’d already decided to make the sacrifice. If he gave her time to grow accustomed to the idea of becoming a mother, she believed the compromise of freedom for love and family would be worth it.

  Gripping the handle of her briefcase containing her resume and work samples inside, she paused on the sidewalk. If she’d decided to turn down the offer, why was she bothering to show up for this interview?

  An escape hatch. In case Trey refuses you because you gave him too little too late. Her conscience cringed at the truth.

  After all these years, she still needed to save face, even to herself. An old pattern of self-preservation to relieve the devastation of rejection. The rejection from her father, from Dan, even from Allison’s ex-husband who’d used her and abused her attempt at trust.

  I trust Trey, she assured herself. And if she wanted to claim the future he’d offered with his heart in his hands, she needed to leave the past and her fears behind.

  Which would start by refusing this job offer.

  “You’re Devon Leigh.” The voice startled her. A
figure walked out of the shadows cast by the striped awning of the building’s entrance. “Carl, from Developer’s Muse. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face.”

  On first impressions, Carl Wells struck her as young, in his mid-twenties. Impressive, considering his status as CEO of a company. Though that shouldn’t surprise her, since tech start-ups sprouted up practically every day with fresh-faced developers at the helm. He wore dark jeans and black cap toe oxfords, but paired them with a flamboyant purple velvet jacket that could’ve come from a costume rack in an actor’s studio. Straight black hair tucked behind his ears. Strangely, his gray eyes seemed familiar.

  But that’s not what set her nerves on edge. His smile held a twist of mockery. As if he walked around believing he was smarter and better than everyone else.

  Instantly disliking him, she took a step back. He flicked his cigarette into the gutter and exhaled a stream of smoke. Typically, she appreciated the smell, even though she’d weaned herself from the habit. Instead, she wrinkled her nose at the stench, turned off by the smoky cloud veiling his face.

  “Listen, I hate to do this,” she admitted, “but I’ve recently shifted my priorities. I realized I need to remain in my current job until the project I’m working on is complete.” Which could take as long as she wanted, now that she intended to stay in Denver.

  “That’s a shame.” Other than a faint line that marked his forehead, he seemed unaffected by her statement. No hint of surprise or even annoyance. Was he that arrogant or did he simply not care? “I had high hopes for you.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before. There’s been…a recent development, and I decided to stay here.”

  “Before you make your final decision to reject my offer,” he suggested with an intense gaze, “I’d like to show you what I’ve been working on over the past five months. I’ve put a lot of time into it, and I’d appreciate your opinion.”

  Against her better judgment, she agreed. She reminded herself she’d looked up his company’s website, which confirmed his credentials. Since he’d traveled all this way for nothing, guilt and a touch of curiosity made her follow him into the building.

  As he led her up the cement stairs, flanked by pipe railings, he said, “I borrowed the loft unit from a guy I know in town. He let me use it for this interview.”

  At the end of the fourth floor hallway, he unlocked the industrial steel door and invited her inside. Her heels clicked on the poured concrete flooring. No rugs softened the sharp echoes of their footsteps. The one-room open concept loft appeared lived in, supporting his claim of borrowing it from a friend, though the furnishings were sparse. A futon bed lay unfolded on a raised platform in the corner, surrounded by the same railings as the cement staircase. A row of cabinets and stainless steel appliances carved out a basic kitchen from the space. Blackout curtains draped over high glass block windows. Instead of a couch or chairs in the center of the living room, the only furnishing was a sleek, ultra-contemporary glass desk with two laptops, four monitors and a keyboard spread across the surface.

  The lock latched behind her, and a shiver washed over her skin. She chose to remain near the door as he strolled to the computer station.

  “I hope you’ll be impressed with what I’ve done.” His smarmy grin irritated her. She decided to inspect his program so she could punch holes through it and take his ego down a notch. “Please, have a look. It’s really something.”

  The aluminum case in her hand bumped against her thigh as she took a few hesitant steps forward. Keeping the desk between them, she flicked an uneasy glance at his face, which was illuminated by the glow of four screens. Then she turned the laptop around to see what made him so obnoxiously triumphant.

  A list of names and geographic coordinates filled the screen. Baffled, she pressed the down arrow and the screen scrolled through thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, of names and phone numbers and addresses. She couldn’t understand what he was showing her until her eyes latched onto the name of a famous Hollywood celebrity. One she recognized from work.

  Oh, God. Soren Security Bodyguard’s client list. She asked, “Is this what I think it is?”

  His lips twisted with a smirk. “You can get back at him for using you, hurting you. Trey Soren doesn’t deserve you, Devon. And Adam treated you like shit. With one keystroke, you can ruin their lives.”

  Recoiling, she staggered back. “Who are you?”

  His mouth flattened to a stern line. “I guess I’m a better actor than I thought. At first it was a game, you know, like the ones you want to develop? I created my own character, with an entire made up history. I worked at it for months before I was hired and finally had a chance to get close to you.”

  Those expectant gray eyes haunted her memory, but she struggled to match the eyes with a face.

  With an irritated huff, he reached for a black bag on the floor. He let go and it hit the glass desk with a thunk. From it, he withdrew a gross set of crooked teeth, a scruffy light brown wig and a pair of glasses. She knew that mop of scraggly hair…those glasses…

  “Zander.” The room swayed and her vision clouded at the edges. She blinked, breathing deep to keep from passing out.

  “Alexander.” Then he withdrew a gun and the sack went limp along with her bones. Was he going to threaten her with physical harm? She clenched her hands to stop them from trembling.

  “For our interview tonight, I took the names of your favorite science fiction authors and combined them. Carl, for Carl Sagan, and Wells, for H.G. Wells.” His smile turned shy for a moment, and she questioned whether he was a psychopath or suffered from an extreme case of bipolar disorder. Or both. “I knew you’d appreciate my attention to detail.”

  “Your attention to… God, Zander, what’s going on?”

  “Alexander. Call me by my real name,” he demanded.

  “Okay, Alexander.” Hot and cold flashes of anxiety distracted her from fully grasping what was happening. “But I looked up Developer’s Muse website. It seemed legit.”

  “Sure it did,” he said smugly. “Aside from creating apps, I’ve been making websites on the side for years.” His eyes glistened with pleasure. “Was it the mission statement that sold you? I worked for a week on it, revising until it was just right for you.”

  She staved off the bile rising in her throat. “Why would you do this?”

  He straightened as if preparing to defend an argument in court. “At DEFCON, we were equals. And on the forums you praised my work. You get me. You’re the only one who does. I wasn’t about to give that up because your new job stole all your time.”

  Betrayal sank its teeth into her chest. “I trusted you. I was training you to be my replacement.”

  “I know.” In the eerie light of the monitors, a wild-eyed expression took over his face. “You think I didn’t see what was going on? The job in Phoenix, your unhappiness, Trey. You needed someone who appreciated you, who saw your genius and respected your dreams. But you didn’t see me.”

  She trembled. “Zander, whatever you think you saw, you don’t know me. You don’t know my dreams or my past.”

  “Yes, I do.” An offended growl sloughed from his chest. “I’ve known you for years.”

  “Years? How could you—” As a terrible realization took hold, her knees threatened to buckle. “Captain Jack.”

  A sadistic smile twisted his lips, and he nodded. “It’s about time.” His glance slid up and down her with a look of ownership. “I expected more from you, Devon. But I guess I’m more impressive than I thought.”

  Her mind still struggled to connect the pieces of his distorted identity. “Allen Guthrey interviewed you. He looked into your background and confirmed your sources.”

  “Allen Guthrey’s an idiot. He doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.” He removed four nondescript cell phones from his sack of freak show aliases. “Easy to verify yourself and give glowing reviews of your work when you’re pretending to be your own
former bosses.”

  Marveling in horror, she said, “You really thought this through.” Determined to understand his motives, she tried to root the situation in some semblance of reality. “Zander, if you needed a job that badly, I would’ve hired you. In a heartbeat. Your logic and programming skills are extraordinary.”

  An unnerving chuckle escaped his lips. “I don’t need your pity, or your job, or your boy toy’s money. I created an app that made me a millionaire. ‘Course, my parents aren’t hard up, either. I live in a wing of their mansion in California. Not that they even noticed I’ve been gone.” He scowled. “It was never about the money.”

  “Then, what?”

  “Working for you has been fun. Eye-opening, really.” His expression intensified until his eyes became a ghostly pale-gray drill demanding access to her most intimate life. “I got to swim through the rivers of your mind and appreciate your brilliance. It took me three months of working under you before I hacked your code, Devon. You are one of a kind. Truly remarkable. Trey, the oaf, should’ve seen that, before he used you and threw you away like a cheap whore.”

  “Stop it,” she insisted. “He’s a good man.”

  “I don’t care about him anymore. From now on, I’m going to take care of you and show you the respect you deserve.”

  Immediately defensive, she gestured to the laptop. “If you don’t care, then why are you planning to destroy his company by leaking his clients’ personal information?”

  “For you. Don’t you see? That’s the perfect way to get back at him. He gave you false hope, but I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

  His bizarre rationalizations struck alarm into her veins. “If you hacked into our network and stole private company information, you’ll go to prison.”

  He spread his arms and then slapped his thighs. “My parents own a goddamn island off the coast of Australia. We’ll go there. I have a plane chartered at a private airstrip twenty miles from here. No one ever has to know. We can disappear.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”