Page 12 of Jonas

“Good afternoon, Amy. Welcome home,” I heard the blonde coo.

Jesus.

A welcome home.

Yeah, no, this was not the place for me.

“Thanks, Brenda.”

At the sound of Derrika’s voice, my attention shot up from my phone.

Amy. Right. That was her cover.

I took in Derrika’s fake-as-fuck smile beaming in Brenda’s direction and hid my own. Then I took in the rest of her. Today she was in a pair of jeans that suited her more than the dress she’d been wearing for our meeting. And not just because she looked at ease but also the denim did wonders for her long, lean legs. A chunky, open-knit sweater over a tight, white tank top covered her upper body. No jewelry—that didn’t surprise me and she didn’t need any. The woman was stunning without any add-ons. But it was her big blue eyes that held my examination. Interesting blue eyes that were full of mischief and intelligence. It was that mischief that snared my attention.

Life was nothing but a game. A series of moves and counterplays until the winner was declared. Derrika Layne’s sparkling blue eyes told the tale. Stated plainly, she not only liked the game but gave it her all to come out victorious. I bet she was a shitty loser. I liked that more than I should’ve.

Derrika’s gaze landed on me. Her fake-as-fuck smile vanished and in its place was one that could only be described as diabolical. No, that wasn’t the right description—sexy as all hell was more like it. Sexy with a hint of trouble.

Just how I liked my women.

Down boy, you’re on the job.

CHAPTER FOUR

I stood in the kitchen and watched Jonas take in my apartment. My temporary apartment provided by Anson Sutton. the Chair of the board of directors for Delcon. Anson wasn’t stupid nor was he negligent in his duties. He kept his finger on the pulse, he read the reports, he investigated when red flags popped up. And boy did he find the mother of all red flags. It was flying so high, flapping in the wind, either management was complacent or they were obtuse. In the six months I’d been there I was leaning toward inept. Though there had to be a mole, I just hadn’t found them yet.

Seth immediately came to mind. If it was him, I was losing my touch. Until this afternoon, I wouldn’t believe he had it in him to betray anyone—not even an employer. But obviously there was something going on with him. It wasn’t a coincidence that a black Mercedes had rolled up in front of my building, this being after it followed me, after Seth had been anxiously talking to whoever was in that car.

Two too many ‘afters’ for my liking.

“Did Kira get back to you?”

“At least the view doesn’t suck.”

Jonas and I spoke at the same time.

“She—”

“There’s—”

We both started and stopped at the same time.

“You go,” Jonas offered.

“I was going to agree with you about the view,” I told him. “Most everything about living here sucks, but the view doesn’t. Though I have to sleep with the curtains shut because it never gets dark.”

That was something else I missed about home—darkness. Clear dark nights where the only light came from the heavens. I missed looking up and seeing stars. I missed silence. It was never quiet here. Yet as much as I missed the ranch I’d never consider going back. Not to the stifling rules that had damn near suffocated me, not to my father’s delusions, not to my brother’s cruelty. It was almost amusing the way my mind played tricks on me, like I had the option to go back to the ranch. I’d been cast out. Exiled. Forbidden to return. I was a heathen who had to be banished before I corrupted my sisters.

Jonas shifted away from the window and his attention swung to me. His gaze roamed my face. There was something disconcerting about the way he took me in. A featherlight caress coated in scrutiny. I quickly dipped my chin and averted my eyes to break contact. I had a feeling Jonas could read minds and mine was a murky, unhealthy place to be.

“Kira’s working on the occupants of the Mercedes but she got a hit on the man in front of your building. Daryl Barnes.”

My gaze swept my apartment before landing back on Jonas. He looked the same as he did yesterday—same black tee, black boots, the jeans looked a shade lighter but overall the same. I liked that. He was who he was. I rarely was myself—more like a chameleon. I was always shifting and morphing into who someone else needed me to be. It was easier that way. I could pretend I wasn’t a disappointment, an outcast, the girl who had been shunned.

My gaze snagged on his beard. Once upon a time I avoided men with beards. But I liked his beard. Nowadays it was all the rage, even the hipsters were growing beards. But Jonas’s beard wasn’t a fashion accessory. He hadn’t grown it because it was trendy. Everything about Jonas screamed MAN! His facial hair was just a sexy addition to who he was.

Why was I thinking about the man’s beard?