Taking Control (Kerr Chronicles #2)(54)
Author: Jen Frederick

“Or else your ass is going to get spanked.”

“I thought punishment was supposed to be something you didn’t like.” She rolls over and wiggles her ass in my face.

If that isn’t a challenge, I’m not sure what is.

I ROLL OUT OF BED just as Tiny is nodding off and prepare for the day. The Tokyo exchange will close in an hour and the Hong Kong exchange directly after. Stock in the larger energy companies in East Asia has been stable all day. Louis hasn’t made any moves…yet. Any serious moves to either take over SunCorp or invest heavily would have moved the needle

If Louis bases his offer on the pilfered documents, it will be too low. They’ll be offended and shut the door to him, making them more amenable to my own offer. It’s damn manipulative, but I didn’t get to this position without turning every opportunity to my advantage.

As I’m sitting at my desk, the red light above the monitor on the wall that displays the security feed blinks on and my phone rings.

“Kerr here.”

“Mr. Kerr, this is Carson Dunlap from Tanner Security. An alarm has been tripped at your residence. Do you need assistance?”

I watch a black-masked, slim-built figure jiggle the back lock on the video monitor. I press a button and the lock gives, allowing the uninvited guest to slip inside. “No, we’re just fine.”

Dunlap hesitates. “Sir, I saw the intruder gain access to your residence. I can have the NYPD outside your residence in under five.”

“Really?” I tap another button and the feed switches to the living room. The assailant’s head peers around the corner. Seeing no one, the intruder creeps in and heads directly to the stairs. “Jake must pay them quite a bit if they’re so responsive.”

I get no immediate response. “I can send someone from Tanner Security to provide backup should you need it. They’ll be there in five.”

“That’s fine,” I say absently. From my bottom desk drawer, I pull out a biometric handprint safe. Deactivating the lock, I pull out the Glock 19 and its magazine. Sliding the magazine in place, I go downstairs to greet my guest.

NINETEEN

“IF YOU’RE LOOKING TO LEAVE a threatening note, my suggestion is by the sink in the kitchen. We generally have coffee in the morning.”

The intruder’s head jerks up at my lazy drawl. I’m shrouded in the shadows at the top of the stairs, while the figure downstairs is illuminated by the moonlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The figure glances back toward the entrance and the stairs that lead to the first floor.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” I lift my gun and direct my uninvited guest toward the dining room. “There’s a car outside with someone waiting to take you to the police. Or you can take a seat, and we’ll talk this out.”

As if on cue, Tanner’s security person pulls up. We both turn and watch the headlights flicker across the windows. With slumped shoulders, the intruder trudges over to the table.

A door slams outside and then footsteps tromp up the stairs. A disheveled Steve appears at the top, wearing a loose fitting T-shirt and jeans. A gun is in his hand as well.

“I’ve got this.” I scowl at him.

He merely grunts and moves into the living room. With a flick of a switch, the television pops on and he appears as if he’s doing nothing more than settling in to watch a few rounds of infomercials. But it’s apparent from the tension in his shoulders that he’s ready to leap over the back and subdue our quarry.

As I flip on a couple of lights to illuminate the room, the intruder settles in and drags off the mask. Despite the short haircut, there is no mistaking my intruder’s femininity. Steve sucks in a breath of surprise, but I’m unmoved. Tiny’s earlier revelations unspool in my mind like a two-foot long parchment.

“Table 57 doesn’t pay its wait staff enough, so you’ve been forced into a life of larceny?” I ask lightly, setting my gun on the center island and releasing the magazine. Steve stands up, hands on his hips, and frowns at us. No one has updated him, so it’s understandable he’s confused.

Lauren is an attractive young lady, probably in her early twenties. Her figure is boyish, but I wonder if some of that is due to restricting undergarments and part of her disguise. Strands of reddish brown hair stick up due to static from the hat. I peg her height to be close to five-nine. Model proportions, which I can see attracting a certain portion of male attention. Idly I wonder if her black slacks and top are also part of her restaurant uniform. Doing double duty, so to speak.

It’s her turn to be shocked. Or maybe she has been all along. She sits there dejectedly, and the note she was to leave falls out of her grip and onto the table. Steve is there to grab the paper before I can open it.

“Anthrax,” he grunts in warning.

“It’s just a letter. I put it in the envelope myself.” She sounds tired. No, that’s not the right word. Defeated. Her shoulders are slumped, and her head hangs so far down I wonder if her neck is broken. Steve pulls out two pairs of plastic gloves and hands me a set. Holding the envelope up to the light, we check for signs of excess powder.

“It’s only got my fingerprints,” she says sullenly. “I printed it out at the local copy shop.”

The envelope is cheap—the kind that bills and political flyers come in. Confident that there isn’t a white powder risk, Steve slits the envelope open with his HK knife, a large wicked-looking thing. I roll my eyes at the unnecessary threat, and Lauren doesn’t even look up to see it.

He hands it over when he’s satisfied the letter and envelope present no danger.

“See? Nothing,” she says spitefully.

“You’re pretty mouthy for a girl who’s a phone call away from being put in jail,” he shoots back.

“You’re pretty thickheaded for not listening to anything I’m saying.”

“Why should I? You’re all over security feeds fumbling around the house and trying to break in with a second-rate lock pick set. You didn’t even see the cameras,” Steve says, putting together more words in one sentence than I’ve ever heard him use before.

“Excuse me for not being a professional thief,” she rages back. “Not all of us can go to Thugs “R” Us and buy all the cool larceny tools.”

This display of instant attraction disguised as repugnance between the two would be amusing if the girl hadn’t tried to break into my house and threaten the safety of my woman.