Red Hunted_An MFM Ménage Romance Read online

  This entire thing was a mess. She felt stupid for getting nabbed. Hated the idea of leaving Parker’s side. Couldn’t justify walking away from life back in Salt Lake. And missed Wyatt.

  That seemed like the fucked up icing on a multi-layer cake of confusion. She already had one amazing man she loved and was considering walking away from. What the fuck was wrong with her that she was thinking about the asshole who lied his way into their lives and bed for personal gain?

  She massaged her temples, but it didn’t clear away the pain of what am I supposed to do next?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Parker and Fiona sat on the bed, backs to the headboard and box of half-eaten pizza in front of them. She’d positioned herself so she was always touching him. Arms brushing. Legs pressed together.

  Parker was good with that. He would be even if he wasn’t riding a hard line of never wanting to let her out of his sight again.

  Wyatt had been right. If Parker’d taken this stalker more seriously—done something at any point, when Fiona voiced concern—last night could have been avoided.

  “TV?” Fiona grabbed the remote.

  Good idea. Background noise, to drown out the nagging in his head. “Sure.”

  He was grateful Wyatt dropped everything to help find Fiona. Not that they had to go far, but the support was nice. Parker was also glad the fucker was gone. As far as he was concerned, Wyatt and Tim had too many things in common.

  That’s not true, and you know it.

  Wasn’t it? The guy followed them from State to State—or at least arranged things so they’d continue to end up in the same places—to take advantage of the situation.

  Except you wanted Wyatt there. Both of you did.

  That wasn’t comforting.

  “It’s straight out of a modern horror movie...” The chipper female voice caught Parker’s attention, and he snapped his gaze to the TV.

  It was cable news, and the picture to the anchor’s right was a still of Parker and Fiona, from one of his videos. Nick wasn’t kidding.

  “Wonderful.” Broken sarcasm dripped from Fiona’s voice, and she dropped the remote.

  He grabbed the device and pushed the Up arrow to change the channel.

  “...like an episode of Black Mirror...” Another image of them.

  No wonder Nick had been worried. Why the fuck did they make national news?

  Parker changed to another station.

  “...questioning the wisdom of Rinslet Media, in holding a competition...”

  This was why. Fiona made for a good poster girl, and the news got to tear into a company who thrived on any media attention they received.

  Parker turned off the TV and reached for his laptop. “Whatever you want to watch,” he said.

  “It’s okay. I’m not in the mood, after all.” Fiona closed the pizza box, shoved it aside, and turned to face him. “Are you going on a Grammie’s run tomorrow?

  “Fuck them. I’m not their free advertising lackey.” Not that he would phrase things that way to them, but things like breach of contract weren’t high on his list of concerns with Grammie’s. His contract was valid for thirty days or until they opted to work with a different vendor, and he had a feeling that was the one thing Wyatt was telling the truth about.

  “What about footage for the competition?” Fiona asked. The shadow of fear that lingered behind her gaze since he found her, grew darker.

  He wasn’t going out without her, and there was no way he’d invite her to tag along. Not yet. They’d have to figure out when, but it wouldn’t be tomorrow. “There’s a clause in the competition that allows me to opt out of filming for a few days, in case of extreme emergencies. I think this qualifies. I’ll call tomorrow and invoke it, and we can do whatever you want. Including nothing.”

  “I need a little time. A day or two, to pull myself together.” She smiled. It was weak, but it was still one of the best things he’d ever seen.

  “I get it. You don’t have to explain or justify yourself.”

  Fiona lay down, setting her head on his thigh and her hand next to it. He trailed his fingers through her hair, unable to ignore the churning inside. This should be perfect. Everything he wanted, all right here.

  But it was fractured, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Or if that was possible.

  The conversation faded in and out, until Fiona was yawning more than talking, and Parker convinced her she needed sleep. It seemed natural when she fell into bed with him, curled up against him the way she was earlier.

  He’d never shared a bed for more than a night before. Traveling meant any hook-up was temporary, and everyone involved knew it. He’d always been grateful that those rare instances of someone spending the night never happened more than once with the same person.

  But now he hated the thought of ever falling asleep alone again.

  PARKER DIALED THE CONTACT number he had for Chloe Nielson, expecting to be sent to voicemail. He’d leave her a short message, and then he and Fiona could spend the rest of the day watching movies.

  “This is Chloe.”

  It took him a moment to adjust to hearing a human voice. “Uh... yeah. Hi. This is Parker Carney.”

  “Hey.” Her voice brightened. “How are you doing? How’s Fiona?”

  It was odd to hear someone who didn’t know Fiona ask about her in such a friendly tone. It was nice Chloe cared, or at least sounded like she did. “Surviving. I’m sorry for any bad press this is bringing Rinslet.”

  “Pft. You know our unofficial motto—there’s no such thing as bad publicity.” Was that a hint of bitterness in her voice? “Something like this only draws more eyes to our contest. Great for us, not so much for you.”

  “We’ll be all right.” Parker didn’t know if that was true, but he had to believe it. “Thank you for the concern. I don’t want to take up too much of your day, though. I’m calling to see if I can invoke the hiatus clause in my contract.”

  “Absolutely.” There was no hesitation in Chloe’s voice. “I know the news exaggerates and gets things wrong, but I don’t doubt you need a few days. If you’d like, I can speak with Legal and fast track you past this round of voting. Give you a pass for the month.”

  “No. I want to do this fairly. I appreciate it, though. I just need a week or so, and I’ll be back in the swing of things.”

  “If you need more, call me back. And while I have you... I don’t suppose you’ll be in town again anytime soon?”

  Rinslet was located in Salt Lake City. Their offices were a few blocks from where Fiona and Nick worked.

  “I’m not sure yet what my schedule will be like,” Parker said. “Why?”

  “I, uh... I was going to call you anyway, and I hate to ask this of you...”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”

  “Speaking of Legal, they’d like you to sign and have notarized paperwork that indemnifies us from anything to do with what happened.”

  Parker choked on a bitter laugh.

  “I know.” Chloe sounded apologetic. “I don’t want to bring it up, but the job is the job. I can overnight you the paperwork, or if you’ll be here anyway, you can come by the offices.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Disbelief rocked in his head as he disconnected. He understood where they were coming from and didn’t blame Chloe for the request, but it still reeked of ballsy to the point of unbelievably unsympathetic. He dragged his fingers through his hair with a shaky sigh.

  “Is everything all right?” Fiona’s soft question pulled him back to the room.

  He flopped onto his back next to her and placed his hand on her leg. “People boggle my mind sometimes. But they’re granting the hiatus, so that’s good.”

  “Then what did she want?” Fiona studied him, emerald eyes digging into his soul.

  Parker didn’t want to say, but he also didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from her. He laid out Chloe’s request.

  “You have to sign.” Fiona didn’t look as bot
hered as he felt. “I’m not planning on pursuing anything against them, anyway. This isn’t their fault.”

  No. It’s mine. “I know.”

  Her attention drifted away, and she fiddled with a loose thread next to his head.

  That wasn’t good. “Red? What’s up?”

  “I’ve been thinking... about a lot of things, really, but a few specifically.” Her hesitation put him on edge, and he sat up. “If they’d prefer you sign the paperwork in person...”

  He didn’t like where this was going. He wanted to protest before Fiona could finish the thought. His trying to convince her to leave home behind was what started this whole thing though. He grasped her fingers, drawing her gaze. “Tell me,” he said.

  “You could fly back with me. Keep me company when I go home.”

  The request sliced through him like a knife. He wanted to talk her out of leaving. Beg her to stay. He hated the thought of not being with her. Instead, he said, “I can do that.”

  “Yeah?” She gave him one of those tentative smiles that widened the cavern in his heart.

  “Of course.” He forced cheer into his voice. “And maybe I can stay.” Whoa. Where did that come from? He didn’t know, but it wasn’t a bad idea.

  “You’re always welcome. You know that. I’d love to have you stick around for a few days.” Her expression brightened.

  This was what he needed to do. “I mean for good. As in, moving back home.” Saying the words took more strength than he expected, but it would hurt more to not make the offer. “If I have to pick between this life and you—or between anything and you—there’s no question. It’s you. Every time. I love you, Fiona. I don’t know how long I’ve felt this way. Maybe always.”

  He settled a hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. The light brush of his lips on hers hummed through him. It was amazing. Intense. Like no other kiss, but the way it always should have been.

  The taste of salt, wet and bitter, hit his lips, and he pulled back. Tears traced tracks down her cheeks.

  “Shit. I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  She gave a dry laugh. “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t apologize. Take it back.”

  “Okay. I take it back. I’m not sorry.” He didn’t get it, but he’d do whatever he had to, if it meant she stopped crying.

  She returned the kiss—feather light, with whispers of the unknown—and pulled back to look at him. “Damn straight, you’re not.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” He drew a thumb across her cheek, smearing a tear. “This isn’t happy crying.”

  “You can’t stay with me.” Her voice cracked. “You can’t move home. I mean, if you really wanted to, I’d take it in a heartbeat. You could crash at my place until you found your own. Or maybe my apartment would become ours. I love that idea. But that won’t work for you.”

  What kind of mixed signals was he giving off, to make her think that? He thought he was being clear. “Of course I do. Two nights ago, with you missing, it was horrible. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like for you. But the rest of this trip, having you with me... You made it what it was. I can’t let you go after seeing what we have.”

  “But the trip is part of that experience. And you live for the new places. If you stayed in Salt Lake—set up a real, permanent physical address—it would drive you insane.”

  That was probably true. “We can still travel.”

  “Vacations aren’t the same as a new city every week.” Fiona hooked her fingers with his, sending warmth and doubt scurrying over his skin. “Besides, you’re in the middle of an incredible opportunity. This is your career, and you’re good at it. Like, really good. Only twelve of you were picked to compete, so I’m not the only person who thinks so. You can’t throw that away. You’ll never forgive yourself or me if you do.”

  Fuck. He hated that she was right, but she was. It felt so selfish of him. “I can change my brand up. I’ll set up shop there. Film myself doing food reviews of local places. Save the travel culture for trips.”

  “You’d be in hell and, we both know it.” She crawled closer until she could bury her face in his chest. Her breath was hot through his shirt, searing a hole in his lungs and stealing his air. “I don’t want you to leave me. I’d rather keep you by my side forever. But you can’t stay. We both know that.”

  “Fuck.” He was out of arguments. Anything else he tossed out would be a lie. “What are we going to do?”

  “Facetime every night. You stop in whenever it’s not out of your way, and maybe things change in a year or two. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He kissed her on the top of the head. “That’s it, then. I’ll fly back with you and make sure you’re safe and settled. After that, you’d better expect to see me on a regular basis. In person. Every single time I have spare days in my schedule.”

  “I’d be heartbroken if it were any other way.”

  He already was, and believed it was the same for her. He hated this so hard. It wasn’t right or fair, but he didn’t see a way around it. Fuck it all to hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Wyatt didn’t have a preference for where he spent his workdays. On the road it was in someone else’s building, and at home it was in the office. Or on the golf course. At whatever restaurant people were in the mood for.

  Today, each time he glanced out his window, he was treated to memories of the winery in Philadelphia. Raspberry picking. A church under renovation. And he’d rather be in any of those places than here, as long as the company was good.

  Speaking of... He dragged his focus back to his boss, whose office he was in, and whom he sat across from. So far, Wyatt had only gotten a few things from the half-hour long monologue. Good job with the Grammie’s contract, and, Why the hell did you need all the travel to make this work?

  Wyatt explained why. Again. It didn’t matter what he said; Brett had heard the same rumors as everyone else—this contract was going to land Wyatt the promotion he wanted, which would make him Brett’s boss.

  Brett was squirming, searching for any way he could shift credit to someone besides Wyatt.

  Wyatt was getting tired of this never ending... whatever it was. “I’m curious,” he said. “You’ve been a director of sales for... what? Three years now?”

  “Four.” Brett frowned.

  “Before that, you had colleagues you were friendly with and others not so much?”

  “As most people do.”

  Wyatt kept his posture friendly and his smile the same. “After you were promoted, some of those people reported to you, I assume. You ever make life difficult for those not-so-muchs, after the balance of power shifted?”

  Brett narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “I don’t think retaliation is appropriate for people who are doing their jobs, and I don’t like the threat.”

  “I didn’t threaten you. And I agree. Anyone doing their job should be recognized for it. Are we done?” Wyatt stood without waiting for an answer.

  “Yes.” Brett’s response hit his back, and Wyatt let the door swing shut between them.

  Then it was back to more paperwork and phone calls for Wyatt. Normally he loved chatting up prospects. It was fun to read them—figure out what they needed to hear, to say yes and twist the conversation in the direction he needed it to go.

  Today he wasn’t feeling it. He shook his head to rattle loose what was sticking. What he needed was a new city, a new hookup, and a fresh memory to overwrite the old ones. He was done trying to convince himself either Parker or Fiona was just a piece of ass. That bullshit wasn’t flying.

  But maybe he could make this stubborn hold they had on him fade into the background, if he willed it away hard enough.

  His phone rang, and Chuck’s name flashed on the screen.

  Wyatt snarled and answered. “Chuck. Great to hear from you.” His grin radiated in every word. “You calling to finalize on that contract?”

  “As a matter of fact, you’ll ha
ve a copy in your email in about ten minutes. Legal promised me.”

  Wyatt was almost as shocked as he was pleased. “So soon. Glad to see we’re moving forward.”

  “Yeah. We’re done playing games with this two-bit operation from Salt Lake. We canceled their contract today. This Parker kid was guilty of so many levels of breach, starting with missing several days of posting footage.”

  Wyatt wasn’t surprised. Mostly because he hadn’t been able to shake the habit of checking Parker’s channel every morning, and it had been bereft of updates.

  But even without direct knowledge, given what Fiona went through, radio silence for a little while made sense. “Fiona Walters was kidnapped. It seems reasonable that they’d take a little time to get their shit together.”

  “Ms. Walters doesn’t have her name on either of the contracts.” Chuck’s tone was snide. “Though she seems to be at the root of disrupting both of them. Mr. Carney needs to honor his obligations.”

  Fury nudged Wyatt’s senses. He was glad all the cards were on the table, regarding Grammie’s and Parker’s work. There was no reason to keep up the facade, to yank everything away from Fiona and Nick in a couple weeks. But he didn’t care for Chuck’s indifference.

  “Besides,” Chuck said, “dumb cunt was stupid and got herself snatched. That’s not our fault.”

  Rage seared white hot through Wyatt’s veins. He was both grateful and disappointed Chuck wasn’t in the room, because Wyatt’s fist needed a target. “I misheard that.” His voice was a low growl. “I must have.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It sounded like you blamed an innocent woman for having the nerve to live her life. But I know you didn’t just do that. What you really said was that you have nothing but sympathy for her being in a situation she’s in no way responsible for, and you understand her friend has chosen to support her, rather than selling your overpriced fucking cookies.”

  The line was silent, except for the sound of breathing. Wyatt might be worried he’d fucked up the contract, but the anger needed to fade first.