At His Mercy (2 page)

Then again, knowing Becker, maybe whatever he was holding over her head was completely made up. Just like the shit Becker was trying to pull on him
—
planting
bogus
evidence that he was stealing money from the company.

“Do you have any vacation time coming?” he finally asked, deciding on a plan of attack. First thing he had to do was remove Becker’s primary tool against him
—
Elena. Then he’d worry about whatever problem Becker had created for the office manager.

“Yes, a few days, but I can’t take time off now.”

“Because Becker’s blackmailed you into helping him? And if you don’t show up on Monday, the shit’s going to hit the fan?”

Silence. Then a soft, “Yes.”

“Want to tell me what he’s using to blackmail you?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He sighed. Dammit, he wished she’d trust him, but he could understand why she didn’t. Standing in her shoes, he and Becker probably looked like a couple of battling, territorial bullies, one no better than the other. “I can’t let you go to work on Monday.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands. He watched her toy with the button on her coat. “If I don’t show, I’ll be out a job by Monday afternoon.”

Shit. “I can get the vacation time pushed through Human Resources,” he offered. “You can tell them it’s a family emergency.”

She shook her head. “That’s not going to help.”

“Or you could call in sick.”

“Again, not going to help.”

Desperate to get something out of the pretty office manager, a hint, anything, he leaned forward, took her hand in his. She still refused to look at him. Dammit, why was she hiding? What was she hiding? “What is Becker holding over your head? Please, I don’t just want to think about myself here. I want to help you too.”

“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone,” she said to her clasped hands.

He wanted to scream. “Then how can I help you?”

Silence. The tense quiet dragged on for several agonizing seconds. “I guess you can’t.”

He sighed. “All right.” Fuck it!
He
couldn’t
worry about something
he
didn’t
know about. “I didn’t want to do this, but
…
” He unfastened her seatbelt, grabbed the vehicle’s key, and gave it a twist to cut off the engine.

Elena’s reaction was delayed by several seconds. She’d clearly been caught off
guard. But once she realized what he was about to do, she fought like a little banshee, clawing at the hand holding her keys, swinging at him with the other, cussing him, throwing her body across his lap as she made a desperate lunge for the keys.

He opened the passenger door, practically rolling out of the
car, her keys still in his hand
. He half expected her to tumble out of the car and run away, but she didn’t. Instead, as he’d hoped, she scrambled from the vehicle, running around the front to meet him on his side.

Which happened to be adjacent to his own car. He’d planned this well.

He stuffed her keys into his pocket, and opened his car’s driver
-
side door. “You’re just going to have to trust me, I guess.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and thrust her chin into the air. “Just because you have my keys doesn’t mean I can’t show up to work on Monday,” she said, her little face red, her lush mouth drawn into a tight line, hair
—
which was always neatly pinned into an up-do
—
disheveled. Sexy, glossy waves tumbled from the loosened bun, falling over her shoulders and down her back. The wind picked up a tendril and sent it sailing across her face.

He realized, painfully, that he was getting hard with her looking like that. And suddenly he had the craziest idea.

He’d blackmail the
sexy and
mysterious little office manager too.

E
lena was pissed. And scared. And ready to start crying all over again.

Oh hell. The tears were flowing and she wasn’t going to even try to stop them anymore. Maybe she could guilt-trip Kyler into giving back her keys.

It was freezing outside, but she didn’t feel the cold. She was so freaking furious her insides were an inferno. How dare Kyler take her keys and leave her here to freeze! What did he think he was going to accomplish by doing that? Keep her home Monday? Not a chance.

There were other means of transportation to be found. She could call Ashley and ask her to come back and pick her up tonight. And then
…
she’d be forced to come up with some feasible explanation for why she didn’t have her keys and why it had taken her so long to realize they were missing.

And then there was the issue of getting over to see her brother tomorrow. He was in the hospital again. She had several errands to run. She couldn’t ask Ashley to ferry her around all weekend.

This was so unfair! The battle between these two assholes shouldn’t involve her. She shouldn’t be facing these kinds of complications. Jerks! Bastards! Conniving
,
lowlife scumbags!

She stomped her foot then, giving Kyler’s shiny black Jaguar a glare, decided it was in need of a little facelift. Of course, she’d give Kyler a warning first. Let him decide.

Plastering what she hoped was an evil you’re-so-going-to-be-sorry-for-this grin
on her face
, she knocked on his window. “Give me my keys, or I’ll make your car look like it just went through a hail storm
…
with hailstones the size and shape of my foot.”

He didn’t look threatened.

The window silently slid down. “Just get in the car. We need to talk.” His breath made little white puffs in the air.

“Hell no! Why would I go anywhere with you?”

“Because it’s better than freezing.”

“Believe me,” she growled through gritted teeth, “I’m not cold.”

“You will be.” Looking way too chipper,
and much too handsome,
he patted the seat. “Get in. Let’s talk. I promise we can sort this whole thing out.”

Sort it out. Hah. He had no idea. There was no sorting anything out. At least not for her.

He, on the other hand, could avoid trouble pretty easily, by taking whatever proof he had about Matt Becker’s plans to the Powers That Be.

She supposed, if he wanted to be a jerk, he could easily implicate her in the scheme too. That was, if he had no proof that she was being blackmailed into helping the Regional Sales Manager.

Shit, what was she worried about? She’d be gone no matter what. And even if she was somehow able to avoid going to jail, she wouldn’t be able to afford the atrocious premiums to keep her health insurance, and bills for her brother’s treatment would mount to the freaking sky in no time.

Because of
her secret,
she couldn’t file bankruptcy.

Welcome to the world of around-the-clock bill collectors, judgments, garnishe
e
d wages.

She so didn’t want to go there again. Desperately. Which was why she was in this position in the first place. But it seemed there was no avoiding it now.

The chill in the air had finally seeped inside her body, not so much cooling the fury churning within her, but adding another layer of sensation on top. She suddenly felt weary, tired of being the strong one, the one with all the answers. For once, she wanted someone else to take over, tell her everything was going to be okay, like she did for her brother. To shoulder all the pressures.

It was hell being a surrogate mother to a teenager with a debilitating, long
-
term illness that made health insurance more vital than a paycheck. But that was what she was, and nothing was going to change it.

“Get in. I’m not the selfish bastard Becker is, but I can’t let you do this to me.”

She knew that was probably true, that Kyler wasn’t as selfish as Becker. But that didn’t mean she was ready to hop in his car and go for a joyride. He would only start asking questions again. And that would lead to nothing good.

She sighed and tried to gather her windblown hair out of her face. She smoothed the unruly locks back, tucked them behind her ears. “Look, if you truly wanted to help me, you’d give me back my keys and find another way to beat Becker at his game. Why not just take whatever proof you have against him to the higher-ups? Wouldn’t that do it?”

He shook his head. “It would, if I had proof. All I had was a tip. Nothing substantial enough to counter the evidence you’re going to plant.”

Shoot! Then he had been fishing earlier. For details. Proof. How much did he know? “If you know about the evidence I’m supposed to plant, couldn’t you just play interference? Remove it before anyone else finds it?”

He shook his head. “Not unless you tell me exactly where that evidence will be.”

She considered telling him. Very seriously, for about ten seconds
,
then dismissed the idea. If she put the papers where she was supposed to, and then Matt saw Kyler immediately take them out, he’d know she’d spilled. “I can’t. Matt’ll figure it out.”

He sighed again. That had to be at least five times now. “Whatever he’s got on you, it must be bad.”

She didn’t respond. Even in the courts, a girl was permitted to plead the
F
ifth.

“But you see,” he said, his expression turning wicked, “I’ve got something on you too. I could turn the tables on you, blackmail you too.”

“You’re bluffing. If you had anything on me, you’d have me fired so I couldn’t plant the evidence, and therefore protect your precious little job.” She held her breath, hoping that was the case. It made sense.

He tipped his head, narrowed his eyes. “So you’re willing to take the chance I’m lying? Quite the gambler, aren’t you?”

“Hey, you’re the one trying to force my hand.”

“No, you are, by holding your cards so close to your chest.”

Great, now they had resorted to talking in poker clichés. She wasn’t even a card player. She sighed. “I just want to go home. And Monday, I want to go to work, and keep my job.”

More silence.

Dammit, could they just come to some kind of agreement here? She was tired, cold, worn out, emotionally drained.

“How about a wager?” he offered. “I win, you do what I say. You win, I’ll find another way to stop Becker, or face the music if you two succeed.”

“What kind of wager? I don’t know any card games.”

He thought for a moment. “Flip of a coin?”

At least that would be quick. She could be on her way home in less than a minute. Or she could be in even more trouble, depending upon the way the coin landed. “Just one flip?”

“How about two out of three?”

Just freaking great. Practically her whole life was about to be determined by the toss of a quarter. But she supposed the odds were better to go this route than just totally give up.

He patted the seat. “Better come in here where you can watch me, make sure I don’t cheat.”

Conniver.

“You’d better not cheat. Because that’s just too low for words.”

“I promise, I always play fair.”

She didn’
t believe that bit of bullshit, but her hands were numb. She slipped and slid around the front end of his car, sat in the passenger seat. Ohhhh, the vehicle was toasty
-
warm inside, and smelled good, like the man who owned it. But she promptly reminded herself that this was not a date, but a serious bet they had going on. And losing would mean major problems for her and her brother.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

He held a quarter between his forefinger and thumb, twisting his wrist to show her both sides. “See? No trick coin.”

“Okay. I got it. Just flip.”

He placed the coin on his thumb. “Call it in the air. The ceiling’s low, so I can’t flip it high. You’ll have to be quick.”

Up went the coin and she blurted, “Heads!” as it landed on his palm. He flipped it over, onto the back of his hand.

He lifted the hand covering it. Her heart stopped.

“Heads it is. One point for you.”

She inhaled. Exhaled. Whew! It was a small victory, but it put her one step closer to walking away from him, guilt free.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded again, deciding she’d stick with the same side for all three tosses. “Heads!” she called immediately after he flipped it the second time.

This time, when he uncovered the back of his hand, however, the coin was laying tails-up.

Shit. Now they were tied one-to-one.

Immediately she started questioning her strategy. Go with heads again? Or change to tails?

“Last one. Call it in the air.” He flipped.

She called, “Tails!”

He caught the coin and flipped it onto the back of his hand. “Heads. I win.”