Tyler Anne Snell

Suspicious Activities


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was something oddly transfixing about the man in front of her. Unlike Jackson, who had been intriguing with a good dose of some unknown pull, Andrew was an old face she had never thought she’d see again. And now she couldn’t look away.

      “If you’re itching to place blame, just look in a mirror,” she said, fire so hot in her words that they came out cold. “Don’t blame me for what happened.”

      Andrew slammed his fist against the tabletop with such force that Nikki pushed back in her chair.

      “You are the only person to blame,” he roared.

      The chatter around them died. For one long moment, all Nikki could hear were the soft sounds of the radio pumping through the wall speakers. She didn’t move, stunned.

      Andrew’s heaving chest settled into a more socially suitable clip. His smile reformed. He seemed to know he’d just caused a scene. He nodded to the people around them, then focused on Nikki again.

      “I’m not here to point fingers, Nikki,” he almost cooed. “I’m here to teach you a lesson about cause and effect. About consequences.” He leaned across the table.

      Nikki, not one to back down, especially for Andrew Miller, couldn’t help feeling the desire to pull away.

      “Cause—you destroyed me. Effect—now I’m going to destroy you.” His smile turned absolutely sincere. “So get ready, Nikki. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

      Andrew left the table quickly and quietly, exiting onto the sidewalk and walking out of view from the windows. The bell went off, signaling for the men to switch again. The woman to the right of Nikki leaned over.

      “Men like him make me think being single forever is not such a bad thing,” she whispered. Nikki’s eyes stayed on the door.

      “Amen to that.”

      Nikki collected her things and apologized to her next potential suitor. His eyes traveled to the voluptuous blonde two tables down as he said “No problem.”

      Downtown Dallas was buzzing as she followed the sidewalk down toward the communal parking lot. The faux leather pants that had been a daring choice that morning when she picked out her potential date-night outfit now clung to her uncomfortably. The heels that were higher than any others she wore on a normal occasion now bit at her feet. Her hair, curled instead of straightened, hung heavy against her shoulders.

      What was supposed to have been an attempt to have a life outside of Orion and her work had been shut down by the one man who had helped her create Orion in the first place.

      Her thoughts slid to Oliver Quinn, Mark Tranton and Jonathan Carmichael. If Andrew was in town, her original three agents would want to know. She could picture their faces as she told them, all contorting in the anger she still felt burning when she thought of the man. What Andrew had done, or rather hadn’t done, had changed all of their lives. Nikki and the guys had come to Dallas seeking redemption. They’d spent the last several years trying to save as many people as they could, protecting them without worry of turning a profit.

      Apparently Andrew hadn’t sought the same.

      And now he was in Dallas.

      Why? Was he really here to mess with her?

      She thought about the man she used to know quite well. He was clever and brilliant and certainly selfish. Was he stupid enough, malicious enough, to try to hurt her?

      No. He’s just blowing off steam.

      He had been right. After what she’d done, she doubted everything in his life had gone back to the way it was before. Beautiful women hanging on his arms, an exuberant amount of money and a reputation built up on pillars of gold. Andrew Miller had been a rock star in Chicago.

      Until...

      Nikki shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. If Oliver, Mark and Jonathan could find happiness and balance, then she could, too. All work and no play had been her resounding motto for the last five years. It was time to step away from work after-hours. To think about things other than Orion Security Group.

      Which seemed like a hard task when she finally got to her car.

      Spray-painted in red across her light blue car were the words Orion Bitch in big bold letters. She walked up and ran her finger across the O. It was dry. Apparently Andrew’s steam hadn’t yet gone out. The anger reserved only for him began to flame up again. She fisted her hand and retraced the words with her eyes.

      Slowly the flames abated.

      She let out a long stream of air between her dark red lips and wondered if trying to find a suitable date would always be this hard.

      * * *

      JACKSON GOT HIS first chance to score some points with his new boss early the next morning. His phone belted out a series of rhythmic beeps until he woke up, alert and ready to throw a punch. It took him a few seconds to fight out of the disorientation of sleep to realize someone was calling.

      The number was unknown but looked familiar. He answered it, cautious.

      “Hello?”

      “Hi, is this Jackson Fields?” a woman asked. He couldn’t place the voice.

      “This is.”

      “Good! This is Kelli Tranton, filling in as the Orion secretary.”

      Jackson thought back to the name. It definitely sounded familiar. “Tranton...”

      “My husband is Mark, one of the lead agents.”

      Bingo.

      “Jonathan mentioned him,” he said.

      “Funny you should say that, because Jonathan is the one who told me to call you,” she said with a laugh.

      That made Jackson pause. He’d had the job less than twenty-four hours and now he was getting called in already? Looked like this job’s pace was a bit quicker than he’d originally thought. “What’s up?”

      “Nikki called with car trouble, which normally wouldn’t matter on the weekend, but we have a conference call with a potential client in about an hour. I was going to go get her, but Jonathan said that you might benefit from showing the boss you don’t mind working above and beyond what’s required.” She said the last part like she was repeating a direct quote.

      Maybe Jackson wasn’t the only one who thought he needed to get back in Nikki’s good graces. “Yeah, I can go grab her.”

      “Great,” she chimed. “And good luck!”

      Jackson hoped he wouldn’t need luck for the simple task of taxiing his boss to work but, either way, he dressed with speed and headed out.

      Half an hour later he was standing in front of apartment 203, knuckles rapping against the weathered door. To his surprise, the almighty boss woman didn’t live in a new construction but an older complex that didn’t even have a buzzer. It was interesting to find that a woman who had created a security organization didn’t live with an ample amount of, well, security. Anyone could simply walk through the shared front entrance and up the public stairs to her door.

      It concerned him and he didn’t know why.

      “Coming,” he heard on the other side of the door. Moments later the dead bolt slid open and the chain lock fell. Then it was just Nikki staring, obviously surprised, at him.

      “You aren’t Kelli,” she stated, door not fully open. Instead of the not-so-work-appropriate outfit she had been sporting the night before, Nikki wore a pair of light blue jeans, a dark red blouse and black heels. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, while her makeup was toned down, lips glossy instead of dark red. This was a casual look, he was sure. One she probably didn’t take on during the week.

      Jackson was surprised that he still found her sexy as hell.

      “I was sent instead,” he said, avoiding implicating Jonathan.

      Nikki