Beneath the Surface (9 page)

“Um, no.” She blushed. “You kinda warned me, right?”

“I did but that doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow.”

She grinned. “I knew you spiked my drink.”

He kissed the tip of her nose in a romantic gesture she didn’t expect.

She liked it but buried any sentimental thoughts that this meant more than it did.

“I’m not the drugging type, Dale. With me it’s always consensual.”

“Good to know.”

Awkwardness seeped between them. What happened now?

Kyran stepped away and moved over to the door. Dale combed her fingers through her curls, hoping she didn’t appear as disheveled as she felt.

Her legs still felt like Jell-O and her body still lost without the blanket of his.

“Did you come in here knowing Taylor wouldn’t turn up? Was I just a quick diversion?” The words blurted out unexpectedly. She'd been thinking them but hadn’t meant to verbalize her thoughts. However, she did want answers.

Kyran turned back to her, eating up the space between them. “I came in here to get my coffee and to tell you to go home for the day. Yes, I knew the imbecile wouldn’t be back, but I never planned this.”

“Promise me you didn’t.” Her voice shook.

Taking a few deep breaths, Kyran closed his eyes and held the bridge of his nose. Dale stayed silent, ready to flee.

He opened his eyes, boring them into hers as he spoke. “I never make promises. Dale, you mix me up so much I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I’m never that.
Never
.”

“So what happens now?”

“I have no idea. It’s not like I regularly have sex with my brother’s assistant in the fucking boardroom, is it?”

Picking up her purse, she stomped over to the door. “And I know that how?”

Kyran stiffened. “Because I don’t do that. And because I just told you.”

“Forget it, Kyran. Chalk it up to a mistake. We’ll go back to
Mr. Reese
and
Ms. Porter
, okay?”

“No!” he said, following her. “We will not. That . . .” He pointed to the table. “What happened there can’t be forgotten or chalked up as nothing. I don’t have the answers. I don’t have anything.”

Dale sagged, too tired to fight with him. “Maybe you should figure stuff out and get back to me. I know that was the best sex I’ve ever had. I know my body is still hungry for you, and I know one touch from you will have me panting all over again. When you know what’s going on, call me.”

Pulling the door open, Dale straightened her spine, her resolve stronger than ever, and she started walking away from Kyran.

“Why am I the one who needs to find the answers? You were here, too, dammit.” She kept walking. “I’ll be at the club tonight.”

Not quite ready to back down, she shouted, “Good for you!”

The woman made him crazy. He didn’t recognize himself anymore. The man staring back at him when he looked in the mirror was a complete stranger.

Kyran stood in his office bathroom, trying to calm his shaking hands.

He had splashed water onto his face, needing to snap out of his sexual stupor. There was work to be done, and even though he shouldn’t have fucked her in the boardroom, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Dale had rocked his fucking world.

The whole situation made him cringe, though. It was far too much like his father and Clara. Kyran had spent years proving that he was nothing like the man. The apple and tree analogy rattled around in his head, refusing to disappear no matter how much he wanted it to.

“Are you in here?”

Kyran stilled at the sound of his father’s voice. He hadn’t expected him today, though Jacob enjoyed dropping in and catching them all unaware. And there was always the hope that he’d come to sort Taylor out.

Kyran had asked enough times.

While checking his appearance, Kyran shouted, “I’ll be out in a minute.” He stared into the mirror, positive his lips were still swollen. He could still feel the way Dale’s body molded against him, still smell her vanilla scent, and all of it drove him crazy.

Kyran straightened his tie before opening the bathroom door and saying, “I didn’t expect you today.”

Jacob’s eyebrows rose as he turned to face his son. “Isn’t that the idea?”

“Apparently.” Kyran walked over to his desk, taking a deep breath before sitting down. “Any special reason?”

“I need to speak to your brother. However, I’ve been told he left and hasn’t returned.”

“So it seems.” Kyran cleared his throat. “Have you spoken to his new assistant? Maybe she knows where he is?”

“No, I haven’t.” His father took the seat across from his, rearranging his shirt and pants in the process. The man didn’t seem to understand the meaning of the word
casual
. In fact, Kyran was amazed he wasn’t wearing a suit.

“Truthfully, I’d have been more surprised if Taylor were busy at his desk.”

“So why do you let him get away with it?” Kyran said.

Jacob’s pursed his lips. “You sound very childish sometimes, son.”

Anger bloomed within him. “There you go again, jumping to his defense. When will you open your eyes and see what a mess he is?”

“You think I’m blind to his flaws?”

“To be honest, Dad, yeah, I do.” Jacob opened his mouth, but Kyran continued, regardless. “You let him get away with using this company like a hobby. He doesn’t do half the work I do, and when he
is
here, he might as well not be since he’s usually in some kind of drunken stupor. It’s disgusting.”

“He’s working through his own stuff, Kyran. You do your thing, he does his.”

“Meaning?”

Jacob shook his head in dismissal. “Nothing. I’m just telling you it’s not being ignored or allowed.”

“You’re not here every day. You don’t know the half of it.” Kyran’s hold on his temper was diminishing by the second.

“Son, I know enough. What exactly do you want me to do? Write him off? Disown him? Would you expect me to treat you the same if you landed yourself in a sticky situation?”

“It was hardly sticky, Dad,” Kyran scoffed. “And it’s not just one situation. He bounces from one disaster to the next. The business will suffer.”

Jacob leaned forward, flashing a sly smile that Kyran did not like one bit. “Would you prefer it if I returned to the company?”

Kyran suppressed a shudder. The mere thought of his father lording over his hard work gave him nightmares. After two years of running the corporation his way, hell would have to freeze over before he handed it back to his father. Gritting his teeth, he replied, “Clara wouldn’t know what to do without you. While we’re on the subject, where is your wonderful child bride?”

“For God’s sake, Kyran, get over yourself. Clara is thirty-seven, no more a child than you or Taylor. She’s been incredibly patient with you, even with your shitty attitude toward her.”

“Money will make anyone
patient
, Father.”

Kyran expected anger but his father stayed calm, and when he spoke, his tone was curt.

“My relationship with Clara is none of your business. I know exactly how you feel regarding my wife, so no elaboration is required. Going over the same ground will not get you what you want, son. You are not five years old—I will not give in to your tantrums.”

“Oh, please, give me a break. Like you have any idea what I was like at five years old.”

“So we’re going to bring your childhood up, too? I thought I was here to check on Taylor, but apparently you feel this is the right time to spill your guts.” He paused for a moment. “You’re right, I wasn’t around when you boys were children; however, you wouldn’t have a company to run now if I hadn’t spent all my time here. Both of you would be on the family ranch in Hunter’s Hollow, cleaning horse shit from your boots, so don’t complain that I wasn’t around.”

Kyran tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk. He hated dealing with his father. The man would forever avoid answering to any wrongdoings. Kyran would always push for answers only to be disappointed. Like now, all he wanted was confirmation that Jacob was taking notice of Taylor’s behavior. His brother had always been wayward—friends with the wrong people and jumping from one woman’s bed to the next—but he’d grown worse. It was as though he had completely lost his conscience, leaving him to act as he pleased with no consequences.

Jacob’s shoulders sagged. “Your mother wouldn’t want this, Kyran.”

“Maybe not, but she’s not here, so let’s move on.” His throat constricted with emotion. He hated thinking about his mother and despised recalling the tortured expression on her face as she took her last breath. He shouldn’t have had to watch her die. He’d been just a child.

“I’m trying.” Jacob stood. “I’m going to find your brother and try to slap some sense into him.”

“Can you come back? I need to talk with you about a client.”

A small smile teased his father’s lips, and he straightened his tie again, saying before he left, “I can do that.”

Kyran’s head still raced from having sex with Dale in the boardroom, and now his thoughts sprinted twice as fast from his interaction with his father.

He needed the club.

*******************

Metro was Kyran’s sole outlet to vent his frustrations. He got what he needed there. He didn’t consider the ramifications of fighting. He just needed focus, and nothing made him sharper than the club.

Kyran booked a fight.

Messing with Dale had been a mistake, but one he couldn’t bring himself to regret. Kyran stayed clear of relationships, although he enjoyed the adrenaline rush of a one-night stand. He didn’t want the intimacy, because relationships led to nothing but pain and bereavement. He learned that at a very young age. But with Dale he’d wanted to do it again . . . and again.

“You in pain, kid?”

Kyran shook his head. He held his hand out, waiting for Sam to undo the bloody bandages across his knuckles.

The fight had been tough. His opponent had been large. He had biceps that could only be achieved with an injection or two, and he was far more technical with his moves than Kyran was used to. None of the men here was professional, but he had a sneaky suspicion the other guy had been at some point.

The punches had been hard, the jabs fierce, and both had taken his breath away when the guy connected with his ribs. He hadn’t touched Kyran’s face, though.

One less bruise to lie about.

It had taken three rounds before Kyran got a grip on his opponent’s pattern, because his head was still so full of Dale. The memory of her refused to go away.

“I’m only asking because you have this weird grimace on your face.

Usually you come back here pumped—every now and again you’re pissed—but you don’t grimace.”

Kyran hissed as Sam dabbed his raw knuckles with alcohol. It stung, but the pain snapped his thoughts into the present. “I’m good. He got a few good jabs in. My ribs are aching already.”

“Ice bath when you get home. You know the drill.”

“I do.” Kyran nodded, switching hands.

“So what’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Nothing I want to go over with you, old man.” He smirked.

Sam chuckled, undoing the bandages and tossing them into a bowl.

“Aw, come on, sugar. We could get our nails done and do each other’s hair.

All that girlie shit.”

“Seriously, Sam?”

The old man shoved Kyran’s shoulder. “Got rid of that pained expression, though, didn’t I? Lie back, lemme check on your ribs.”

Kyran gritted his teeth, easing down onto the bench and raising his arms above his head. Sam’s fingers prodded the tender skin, checking for any signs of damage. Kyran relaxed, closing his eyes and allowing Sam to make sure all was okay. He wasn’t hurting, so he doubted any serious damage had occurred. Nevertheless, he could make sure.

“Anyone asking for me?”

Sam paused in his exploration and waited a short while before answering the question. “You expecting someone?”

“Not really.”

It grated that Dale hadn’t come to see him tonight. He had told her where he’d be. Sure, she’d been annoyed with him, but he’d assumed that was because she felt awkward—and a bit embarrassed—by what had happened. Neither of them planned on having sex. The condom had been in his wallet for a while. On that front, he was always prepared. Dale hadn’t believed him, and he’d bet that was why she hadn’t come to the club tonight.

Thankfully, Sam left the conversation there, helping him sit up and passing him a clean towel. “You should clean up. You stink, your feet are filthy, and you have blood everywhere.”

“Did the other guy come to yet?”

Sam clicked his tongue. “Not last time I checked. You knocked him out cold.”

“Good.”

Kyran stood, and his head spun. He rolled his shoulders, easing the ache in his biceps. He started for the door, stalling before he reached the showers. “You know Trace, right? Trace Porter.”

“I know Trace, but his last name isn’t Porter. It’s Jacks.”

Kyran’s gut twisted. Trace wasn’t her brother? Dale had lied to him.

“Do you need him? I’m pretty sure he isn’t on tonight. Well, I didn’t see him on my way in, and he’s the most reliable person I know. Except you, that is.” He gathered the bloody bandages and small bowl of water, carrying them over to the sink in the corner of the room. He kept his back to Kyran, cleaning up the mess and disposing of the soiled bandages.

“Have you known him long?”

“Are you going to tell me why it’s so important?”

“It’s not.” Kyran attempted once again to go and shower, but the door that led to the bar opened. It slammed against the wall, revealing Dale standing with her hands on her hips.

“Is he in here?” She scanned the room. “Okay,” she said when she spotted him. “I’m here. You’ve got what you wanted.”

Her eyes blazed, and her curls tumbled around her face. She wore a huge sweater that fell off her right shoulder, revealing her pale skin, and a pair of well-worn black jeans. Kyran’s cock stirred.

“What
I
wanted? I merely pointed out where I’d be tonight. I never asked you to come.”

“You’re an asshole.” She banged the door closed.

His hold on the towel tightened, and he was sure he could feel Sam glaring at his back as he waited for Kyran’s retort.