Red Hunted_An MFM Ménage Romance Read online

  “No. That’s not what I meant. I have another meeting. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Chuck bit off the words.

  Wyatt was fuming as he disconnected. He itched to drive his fist into something. It would wait.

  Once he found his rhythm, it was easier to keep working than risk looking up and getting lost in his own head again. He stayed at his desk through lunch, shrugging away offers from a couple of colleagues to pick something up for him.

  His desk phone rang, jarring him. Lee Benedict flashed on the display. The company CEO, or rather, his assistant.

  “Wyatt Lindberg,” he answered.

  “Hey.” Roni’s voice was chipper. “Lee is wondering if you’ve got time on your calendar to meet with him. He’s sorry for the short notice, but he’s got a gap between meetings and wants to squeeze you in.”

  Very few circumstances would let Wyatt turn down a request like that. “I can make time. When?”

  “Five minutes.”

  In other words, now. “I’ll be there.” He shouldn’t hope this was about the Senior Vice President position, but he did. He’d earned it. Anticipation and excitement spilled inside, and he refused to let anything else mute it.

  Fifteen minutes later—after ten minutes of waiting outside for Lee to finish—Wyatt sat across from the CEO in the other man’s office.

  They exchanged a few pleasantries about work and the weather, and then Lee dove into the conversation. “I talked to Chuck Edwards a short while ago.”

  “How is he?” Wyatt didn’t like that as an opener, considering how their conversation went this morning. That incident didn’t have to be related to this, though.

  “He’s well, but he expressed concerns about how you handled the sales process.”

  Wyatt summoned a thin smile. “I’m sorry to hear that.” The contract couldn’t be sunk. Not now. Not after everything Grammie’s invested. They couldn’t afford it. Wyatt couldn’t afford it.

  “I was too. He tells me the entire thing would have gone more smoothly, with none of this hesitation on his part, if someone besides you was handling things.” Lee’s expression gave nothing away. There were circles under his eyes, and his expression was drawn, but he usually looked like that.

  Wyatt wasn’t going to roll over and play dead on this. Fortunately, he knew who he could speak his mind with in this company. “That’s bullshit. No one could have handled this the way I did, and Chuck waited until now to complain because we have a difference in opinion.”

  Lee cracked a smile. “I figured. I know what you can do, and this didn’t sound like you. I am curious, though, why you had any opinion that wasn’t his. That’s not like you either.”

  “This was important.” Wyatt had to force himself to not speak through clenched teeth.

  Lee waved his hand with a pfft. “It doesn’t matter. He asked to work with someone else during implementation, so I’ll shift him to Brett. Great job with this contract, by the way. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

  “Thanks. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “As a matter of fact...” Lee grabbed a folder from its spot to his right and slid it across the desk. “Despite what Chuck says, you nailed this thing with Grammie’s, as you have a tendency to do. As you know, we’ve been looking to fill the Senior Vice President of Sales position since Mags moved on.” He nodded at the folder. “That’s an offer letter. If you’re interested in the position, it’s yours.”

  “I’d be honored.” This was perfect. Exactly what he’d worked for.

  “Fantastic. Get that signed and leave it with Roni. We’ll announce it to the office this afternoon, and a press release will go out tomorrow.”

  Wyatt signed the offer, shook hands with Lee, and returned to his office. He was proud of this. He’d pushed hard for it. And he refused to acknowledge the empty pit inside, trying to take away his joy.

  AN UNFAMILIAR KNOT grew in Parker’s stomach as Fiona took the airport exit. The last two days with her were amazing. And not enough. He left her place to sign the paperwork for Rinslet, and they spent the rest of the time enjoying each other’s company.

  He shouldn’t have let her talk him into this. She had a point—he wasn’t going to be happy if he surrendered the travel. But was it worth leaving her behind?

  She pulled up to a loading spot in front or Terminal Two and put her car in park. She popped the trunk, and he grabbed his bags to set them on the sidewalk.

  “Call me as soon as you get to your hotel,” she said. Lines marred her forehead.

  “Absolutely.” Fuck, he hated this. Goodbye had never been hard before. He cupped her cheeks and pressed his lips to hers, searing the sensation into his mind.

  She groaned and gripped his T-shirt in her fists. Desperation flowed between them, carried on sparks. When she pressed closer, sliding his body against his, he wrapped an arm around her waist. He gripped her ass, holding her as tightly as he could, and memorizing every inch of her body and the way it molded against his.

  When they broke apart, he gasped. It wasn’t only from the kiss. The idea of leaving had squeezed the air from his lungs, and they refused to re-inflate.

  “You should go.” She squeezed his fingers.

  He nodded and forced himself to pick up his bags. This would get easier. It had to. Or he’d be back in a few weeks, contest and dreams be damned.

  He looked over his shoulder every few seconds, until he stepped inside. She was still waiting by the curb, watching him, when the doors closed between them.

  Parker trudged his way through the security line. The problem with flying out in the afternoon was that everyone flew out in the afternoon. Even with the option to skip the long line, it was half an hour before he stepped through the metal detector.

  He sat in front of his gate. His phone whistled—Fiona. He grabbed it, smile threatening.

  The first text said Pussy for you.

  When he saw the photo of one of her stuffed cats, he laughed. Sexy, he typed.

  Her response came seconds later. Ask nicely tonight, or maybe not so nicely, and I’ll send you a real picture.

  A sliver of sadness joined his amusement. That was Wyatt’s influence. It was still Fiona—she wasn’t putting on a show—but this was a side of her Parker might not have unlocked on his own.

  He replied, I’m holding you to that :*

  The gnawing inside, at the thought of leaving her behind, grew. He sent one more message. Signing off for now. Talk in a few hours. I love you. He switched his phone to airplane mode and resisted the urge to check again for her reply. He had to give it time. It would get better. Or he’d convince himself it had.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Signing off for now. Talk in a few hours. I love you.

  Fiona hovered her thumb over Parker’s message, not touching the screen. I love you too. She sent the reply, then pocketed her phone.

  She leaned against the doorframe to her bedroom. It was so empty, and the space behind her was so big, compared to the hotel rooms they’d stayed in.

  Time to adjust to life in the real world. She doubted she had the attention span to focus on reading. Instead, she settled at her desk and opened her laptop.

  YouTube loaded when she clicked her browser. Which made sense—it was the last site she’d visited. Hell, it was one of the few she’d been on regularly on the road.

  And it was on Parker’s channel, of course. Nothing new to see. She’d come back when he had new content. When it didn’t gnaw at her to see his face not here.

  There was a link to the main contest page, and she clicked it. The Top Ten contestants were featured. Parker was up there. Barely, according to his score, but it still meant extra visibility. She tasted the bitterness in her smile.

  One of the other top contenders was a sex-toy vlogger. She looked interesting. Fiona clicked over to her channel. How did she get away with reviewing vibrators without violating community guidelines?

  The vlogger was pretty—curvy, generous cleava
ge. Fiona wasn’t surprised the woman utilized her breasts as assets. Parker went shirtless for the views.

  Ms. Pleasure was about to go live. Good timing.

  “Hey, boys and girls.” Ms. Pleasure sat in front of her webcam, similarly to the way Parker did when he was in a fixed location. Her blouse was cut low, and her lips were lined to enhance how full and pouty they were. “Today I have this dual-purpose stimulator.” She held up an object that looked like a stainless-steel U, with a ball on each end. “And you’re going to like what I have to say about it. This hits both the clitoris and the Gräfenberg spot, and whoa-baby... Whew.” She puffed out a breath that blew her hair out of her eyes.

  That explained how she skirted guidelines—medically appropriate terminology. Could she keep it up the entire show?

  Ms. Pleasure leaned in, blue eyes wide and gaze locked on the camera. “But before I get into it... I can rant to you for just a sec, right? Just you and me?” She spoke with a conspiratorial tone. Another thing Parker did as well. “This whole kidnapping thing? You know what I’m talking about—that other channel I’m not going to name. It’s complete and utter crap.”

  Fiona’s world tilted, and she gripped the edge of the desk to make sure she stayed upright. Wounds she thought were superficial, ripped wide open, aching inside with a memory of that night.

  “Think about it.” Ms. Pleasure continued, as if she hadn’t just cut the bottom out of Fiona’s thoughts. “This guy is pure bull. I mean, he feeds that stuff to his viewers. He hits the competition, and he bombs. I mean, delivering cookies? What kind of dull-as-freak, goodie-two-shoes crap is that? So he figures pretty girl should help.” She shifted her weight, and her arms pressed her breasts together. “He totally stole that from me. But y’all love me more, right?”

  Fiona wanted to reach through the monitor and slap her for trying to pull off y’all with a West coast accent. It would be better than drowning in this.

  Ms. Pleasure pursed her lips, then continued. “That still doesn’t do the trick for him. I mean, look at the guy—he’s barely in the Top Ten. He decides he needs a better gimmick. Get the pretty girl kidnapped. Think about it. They found her less than five hours later. On the same freaking floor she was staying on. I’m seriously surprised they didn’t try and sneak in some rope action, just for the repeat clicks. I mean, that crap would have gone viral. I call bull—”

  Fiona slammed the lid shut on her computer, nausea and fury simmering inside.

  Reading was a good idea after all. Something to bring her blood pressure down. People thought she was faking it? That it was a hoax? Who the fuck was that kind of twisted?

  She bit the inside of her cheek, to give her an external pain to focus on. Books. She’d pick one. Not “The Siren.” She’d read it, and the last thing she needed was to be reminded of Wyatt.

  Something not sexy and not scary. She also didn’t need to be jumping at shadows. Kick-ass space pirate. That sounded good.

  She was a few pages into the book and losing herself in someone else’s world, when a loud crash jarred her.

  It came from next door. The neighbors had noisy kids. She’d spent two weeks with thin, shared walls. Loud neighbors were no big deal.

  She took a few breaths to calm her hammering heart and dove back into the story.

  The next sound came from inside the apartment. She was sure of it. Pulse hammering in her ears, she grabbed a tennis racket out of her closet and crept from the room. She flipped on every light as she did a thorough survey of the place. The locks were still in place on the front door. The windows were sealed up tight.

  She’d overreacted. It was nothing.

  The assurance didn’t stop memories of Tim from slamming into her. Catching her in the hallway. Maneuvering her into his room. The binding. The drugging. The threats.

  She sank to the floor, massaging her temples, trying to force the past away.

  Something struck the window.

  Fiona yelped.

  It was a bird.

  She couldn’t do this.

  She grabbed her still-packed bag and dialed Nick as she walked out the front door.

  “Hey.” His warm greeting helped chase some of the shadows to the back of her mind.

  She headed for the parking garage. “Hey. I have a favor.”

  “Sure. Whatever you need.” He’d been extra sympathetic since she told him she was coming home. And profusely grateful she’d be back on the clock full time.

  “I’m a little freaked out. Lingering bad mojo. Can I crash with you for a few days?”

  “Totally. Guest room is yours for as long as you need.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she was settled in his place instead of hers. It wasn’t home. It wasn’t comfortable. But it felt safe. She’d take that.

  When Parker called, she forced a smile. His looked just as strained, before a frown slid in. “That’s not your room in the background,” he said. “Are you at Nick’s? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine.” She forced herself to sound like she meant it. “Adjusting to life back, that’s all. I promise.”

  “If you’re sure...”

  She nodded, grateful he could see her. The conversation slid along the basics. His flight was bumpy but good. She was going back to work tomorrow. He was looking forward to filming without Grammie’s restrictions.

  He didn’t bring up her text from earlier, and she was grateful. The mood was gone.

  “I think I’m getting tired.” She didn’t want to lie to him, but it hurt too much to see him this way.

  “Me too. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”

  “Love you too.” She disconnected and let her phone drop to the mattress. Damn it. This sucked in the worst possible way.

  WYATT SPENT HIS DAY fielding the waves of congratulations from his colleagues and clients. Some were sincere. Others were kissing his ass. He didn’t care. He was going to revel in the moment.

  The day was winding down when he got a text. From Fiona. Saw the press release. Congratulations. You earned it.

  Her words gnawed at him. It was worse because he suspected she was being sincere, rather than passive-aggressive.

  Someone knocked on his office door. Gary from accounting? “Going for drinks. Want to join us?”

  The worst thing he could do tonight was remove his reservations. “You can buy me a beer on Friday. I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Got it. Catch you later.”

  Wyatt texted Ginny, as Gary walked away. You up for some fun before work? This was the kind of distraction he needed.

  You want me to walk into that club and spend the night taking off my clothes with your scent all over me? You’re such an alpha dog.

  He chuckled at the note. Damn straight. Besides, I owe you for the asshole a few weeks ago, and I miss the way you taste when my face is buried between your legs. This was what no-strings was. He could do this. The only expectations with Ginny were that he give as good as he got, and he tip well when he was in the club.

  You’re such a charmer. Your place in thirty?

  I’ll be there, he typed.

  When he strolled up to his condo, she was waiting outside, in the hallway. Her T-shirt hugged her tits, and her skirt barely covered her ass. When he was close enough, she grabbed his wrist and slid his hands between her legs, to let him know she wasn’t wearing panties.

  Red hair framed a deceptively innocent face. Just like Fiona’s. Apparently, Wyatt had a type.

  He banished thoughts of Fiona, pulled away from Ginny to unlock the front door, and nudged her inside with his full body. He closed up behind them and spun to press her against the wall and pin her arms above her head, her wrists captured in his hands.

  He kissed her hard, pouring every ounce of need he had into crushing his mouth to hers. She gasped and squirmed under him, getting closer. Each time she moaned, she rubbed her hip against his cock. He tried to dive headfirst into the physical, but whispers of the past kept pulling him back.

 
“Fuck.” He growled against Ginny’s skin, nipping then biting the pale flesh of her neck.

  She broke free of his grip to drop her hand below his waist and tease his cock. He was only half-hard. She stroked. It felt good. Right. Why couldn’t he get into it?

  “This is about you tonight. Not me.” He grabbed her wrist again and hitched her skirt over her hips. He danced his fingers along the inside of her thighs, drawing closer to her heat but never touching her pussy.

  Her moans were musical, dancing along his senses. They weren’t Fiona’s— Fuck. He needed to stop that. To be here, rather than in the park. Or back in the hotel.

  Wyatt stepped back, but the rush of cool air didn’t clear his thoughts. “We should take this to the bedroom.”

  Ginny grabbed his hands and jerked him, to force his gaze to hers. “Where are you right now?” she asked.

  “Here. Only here.”

  “You’re a better liar than that, handsome.” She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

  She was right. The fact that he could pull off the most eloquent, foul bullshit was part of the problem. “I don’t know.” It was the only answer he had.

  She smoothed her skirt down, and her hips swayed as she crossed the room to drop onto his couch. “Yeah, you do. Want to talk about it?”

  “You didn’t come here to talk.”

  “No. But it seems you didn’t invite me over to fuck.” She patted the cushion next to her. “Lie down and tell the doctor all about it.”

  This time his smile felt more sincere. Ginny was working on her psychology doctorate and used stripping to pay for college.

  “I can’t afford your fees tonight,” he said.

  She crossed her legs at the knee, managing to keep from showing any hint of what did and didn’t lie underneath. “This one’s on me. You’ll owe me double next time.”

  He took the seat across from her, so he could watch her reactions. He’d give her a couple of high-level snippets, to satisfy her curiosity and get things off his chest, and send her on her way with an apology.