Trust Game (19 page)

Reese

I considered changing out of my revealing outfit since it was a childish move, but it’s too dang hot today. I’m sweating as Becca and I carry food out to the picnic tables. The guys have been riding for several hours, so I figure the smell of food might bring them in for a break.

While about five of the
guys ride, the others hang out under a shade tree. We’ve joined them a few times throughout the day, when Travis or Everett weren’t taking a turn.

The area where the dirt bike track is located looks as if it was carved out of a forest. An abundance of trees circle it, and as the day goes on, I’m becoming more curious as to how Everett ended up here.

The freed sun is beating down on the exposed space,
drying up the muddy track but not before the guys became spattered with the brown stuff, leaving them that much sexier.

Brady, Jess
and Travis find their way to us and offer to carry out more of the food. The crock-pots are heavy, so I accept their help.

“This
was really thoughtful of you two,” Travis says as he sets stuff on the picnic tables.

“You’re welcome. It’s cool to hang out outside of work. I think that’s everything, but I’ll do one last check,” I say before walking to the house.

Like the front, the back has a covered porch that stretches across the length of the home. It’s older with white siding, which could use a painting, but it has a quaint feel. The outside is deceiving to what lies within.

If not Everett, then someone put a lot of
time into remodeling the interior. It truly is a picture from a magazine.

Cherry beams stretch across the vaulted ceilings inside, and everywhere you turn, white walls are trimmed in the same wood, cabinets cherry and doors, too.

“Did you find anything else you need help with?” Travis asks. I realize I’ve been standing at the kitchen island, soaking in the homey feel of the room.

I’ve never been thrilled about living in an apartment, but I didn’t
wholeheartedly appreciate what I was missing by living in one.

“Um, no. I think that is it.”

He scratches his sweaty, blonde hair, which is going every direction from having worn a helmet.

“Listen, I meant what I said earlier. It’s really cool you did this for us, especially
for Everett. He’s never had a woman put him first.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

He nervously looks away.

“Seriously, he’s been through a lot, so it’s nice to see hi
m smiling. You make him happy, Punch Bug, so I hope you stick around.” He braves a glance back, allowing those striking, blue eyes to perform with his charming grin.

“Aww, thank you, Travis. That is sweet. I hope you stick around, too. Becca likes you a lot.”

“She does?” he asks excitedly.

I giggle. “Ye
ah, I’ve never seen her like this, actually.” The back door swings open, and Everett walks in.

“Everyone is waiting o
n you two, and this bunch can get ugly when food’s in the equation.”

Travis strides
to the door, hitting knuckles with his big brother before leaving. The sentiment warms my heart, and so did Travis’s words.

“Let’s eat, chick.” Everett holds open the door, shaking his hair out as
I approach. It’s disheveled and erotic as hell as sweat drips from it. He plants a chaste kiss to my lips, the salty taste creating a tingle that makes me want more of him in this raw, gritty state.

Taking a seat
at the three picnic tables we’ve shoved together, I notice the guys are ravenous. They’ve dived into the spread of barbecue, potato salad, baked beans, pasta salad and chips.

They’re sucking down sweet te
a and stealing from the pile of brownies in the center of it all. After making his plate, Everett stops moving. I glance to him and see that he’s watching everyone as they laugh and eat. He kisses my temple.

“Thank you for this. It’
s been a great day, and I couldn’t begin to explain all the reasons why.”

***

Everett and I remove the cheap, plastic tablecloths from the picnic tables and th
row them away. The guys have left, and we’ve cleaned up everything. Travis and Becca headed home to shower before they spend the evening together.

Pulling me to him, Everett kisses my forehead.

“It’s been a perfect day, and you did a lot of work, so what can I do to make it up to you?”

“
I want you to teach me to ride one of the bikes,” I reply with a playful smile.

In no time, I’m geared up. My jersey and pants are too big, but it’s the best we could do. I think all the protection is an overkill since I will be lucky to go twenty feet, but Everett seems stressed about the risk of me getting hurt.

“Listen to everything I tell you, and don’t do any of it except for when I say.”

“Yes, sir.”

He freezes, so my eyes go from the bike to him. He’s looking at me as if he’s going to devour every inch of my body.

“
You can say those two words anytime you have the urge, especially in the bedroom. You’re only learning the basics today, so I can get you into the house sooner.”

Everett shows
me how to kick-start the bike, give it gas and hold in the clutch. Of course, I kill it a few times by releasing the clutch too fast.

B
etween learning how to sit and lean, shift and control the throttle and clutch, I’m overwhelmed, but I finally grasp what I’m supposed to do.

“I think I’ve got it now. I’m going to go farther and faster.”

He runs a hand through his hair, and I notice the wince that flits across his face.

“Baby, please be careful. If you get hurt, I won’t forgive myself for letting you on this thing.”

I roll my eyes. “I can handle it. Being female doesn’t affect me learning any differently than one of the guys.”

“Yeah, but I don’t care about
any dudes the way I care for you.”

“Awe, that’s
sweet,” I say sarcastically. “But I can keep up. Remember?”

“That’s what worries—”

I don’t catch the last of his sentence as I take off. Even though I’m not going a high speed, it is freeing. I absolutely love it, and this will not be the only time I do this.

While riding, mud flies from where the shade ha
s overshadowed the sun’s rays. The few spots of my skin not protected are getting hit with it, and it only makes me feel more alive.

Everett has brought me to life, showing that I can take risks, the thrill spark
ing a fire that is only growing in strength.

When I return, I watch him blow out a deep, relieved breath.
I remove my helmet and shake out my hair, a grin planted on my face that will not be easily erased.

“That was way more fun than shopping.” I wink at him, and he seems unable to resist hugging me hard.

“Are you real?”

“Let’s go in. I’m sure you’re tired,” I reply.

I’ve taken off the riding gear and am making Everett a fresh glass of tea, when he comes in from putting up the last of the bikes.

“You didn’t eat much,” he says. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He approaches me, stripping off his jersey along the way, sexiness exuding from his pores in the form of sweat. It rolls down his skin and glistens on his tattoos, dripping off where his muscles cut in. The visual is raw and tantalizing.

His white tank is soaked and clinging to his firm pectorals. I clear my throat, swallowing the lust that has taken on a salivating form.

“Um, I’m only starving for you,” I mutter, my gaze trying desperately to lift from his hot bod to his face.

My words reignite the burning oil in his steely blue eyes. The headiness flickers,
red-hot desire casting straight to my core–into the belly of wanton need.

Everett has awakened
my lascivious hunger, feeding its appetite until it’s stronger than its sanctum. It has risen, breaking through its taboo restraints.

“Ev,” I say softly but desperately.

“Fuck, Reese.” He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. His erection shoves against me as he pushes my lower back to the kitchen island. “That look. That one damn look from you and I’m finished. You own me, baby.”

In a heartbeat, his lips are glued to
mine, our tongues in a frenzied state of passion. I roll my hips forward and rub the swollen ache of desperation against his raging hard-on.

In turn he growls
, the sound amplifying with every thrust of my pelvis and rough rake against his cock as his primal instincts take over.

He places my butt
on the island and hurriedly removes our tennis shoes and socks. With his patience stripped away, he picks me back up.

My arms and thighs
wrap around him tightly before he’s taking the stairs, his strong legs pushing us up them briskly.

Dropping me to my feet by the shower, he turns it on and begins peeling off our sweat covered clothing, our lips hardly separating during the process.

With my legs once again hooked around him, he steps in and lets the water run over us before he’s pressing my back to the cool tiles. It awakens more nerves as the steam billows, mimicking the heat surging through us.

Bringing me down onto h
is cock, he holds me there, eyes clenched shut, mouth parting, so his choppy breaths can escape.

His eyes gradually
open, the dark hood over them revealing the feral passion he’s ready to unleash. He leans his forehead to mine, his fingers digging into my ass.

“I’m fucking you tonight until we’re too exhausted to move. I’m going to mark more than your succulent skin. You’re going to feel it everywhere tomorrow, t
he achiness branding to memory that you’re mine.”

My fingers grip the back of his hair, our breaths sharing the steamy space. “Fuck me until I hurt. I can keep up.”

Everett

“
Christ
, Reese.” I pull out enough to spear into her again, every drive a mile of pleasure hedged by her tight, ripe flesh. Her head tilts back and presses against the shower wall.

My fingertips imprint deep into her ass cheeks as I claim her, teeth biting her neck, my cock holding nothing back as I thr
ust into the depth of her.

“Tell me
again how you want it,” I demand. “Tell me how to fuck your soaked cunt.”

“You’re … shameless,” she chides breathlessly.

“And you love it.”

Lowering her chin, she stares into my eyes. Reese is a
provocative sight from her drenched blonde hair to the water droplets that fall over her long lashes, covering her rich green eyes.

“Fuck me
rough. Make me sore.” She moans in sync with my final thrusts, her words and erotic sounds penetrating my self-control.

Muscles latch on
to my dick and milk out the white-hot liquid surging through it as we come together. My body shakes from the stinging pleasure ricocheting in every direction.

“Holy shit, Reese,
I don’t have words for what you do to me, but I pray it never fucking ends.” My neck buries against hers as I hold her to the wall and struggle to regain my self-control.

After getting my shit back together, I
let her body slide off of me, and we take an actual shower, washing each other … savoring every touch to skin.

I’m in so fucking deep. I didn’t know it was possib
le for someone to seize my soul but Reese has. She possesses the whole damn thing.

Reese

Why couldn’t there be a transposed number in one of the entries for the bills they paid, like Kyle said? Holly and I have spent four days poring over files, matching the numbers on reports to the bills Casteel paid two years ago.

Invoice after invoice, I have looked through and totaled, goin
g through a roll of white register paper on my calculator. Everything is balancing. I will say that Krystal was not careless, precisely entering and calculating to the penny in every department.

By going through records this thoroughly, I will at least have
the files organized for the accountants that will pay a visit to investigate. I’ll also sound somewhat knowledgeable with Casteel’s past accounting operations.

Thankfully, I still have several weeks to figure this out.
When I require extreme focus, I typically shut out the rest of the world, so Everett hasn’t been too happy about it.

It’s Thursday, and my door has stayed
mostly shut this week. Other than the few times a day he barges his way in, I’ve barely spoken to him during work hours. We spent Monday and last night together, and as always, it was beyond surreal.

He has been out of the building most of the day, probably due to the frustration of not being able to touch me. It’s almost five, so I organize some files and go to put them back in the file cabinet behind my desk.

I pull on the bottom drawer but it jams and has been doing so since I started here. I have never managed to pull it all the way out. I should remove the damn thing and see if it’s aligned wrong.

Thankfully, I retired my dress clothes this week, so I sit
down on the floor in my jeans and begin yanking on the drawer handle. After three failed attempts, I get up on my feet, and while squatting, I put all my force behind it, pulling as hard as I can.

The drawer releases
and flies out before landing on the floor. I tumble back, falling onto my ass. I can’t help but giggle. That would’ve been humorous on camera.

“You OK in there?” Sarge asks, shouting from outside my office.

“Yep.” I chuckle before I’m off my butt, opening the door. Out of breath, I smile at him. “I was brawling with a file cabinet drawer. I won, so everything is fine.”

He
laughs and gets a glimpse of it.

“Do you want help putting it back?”

“I have to file some papers inside it first, so I can wrestle it back in.”

Laughing
again, he strolls away, so I grab my stack of papers off the desk and sit next to the drawer with my legs crossed.

I start to file a paper away when it hits me that I should examine to see if something fell behind the drawer, causing it to jam.

Dunking my head down, I look into the dark space of the five drawer cabinet and discover a manilla envelope taped to the back wall of the cabinet. It’s roughly the size of a small notepad. What the hell? Who does that?

The knotted feeling returns to my stomach, so I rise and shut my door before locking it. Shoving the drawer out of the way, I lean in and peel the envelope free.
My chest feels tight as I open it and pull out the contents.

There is
a key and a checkbook. I take my seat and study the key. It’s thick and has a few numbers on it. I had a post office box once, and it looks similar to the key I was issued.

I’m unsure as to what to do,
but my gut tells me I should keep this information to myself until it’s investigated further.

My fingers barely lift open the checkbook, as if it bites.
Castle Clean Supplies and Services, LLC
. I think I recall seeing that name on the vendor list. OK, a cleaning service, but what’s with the checks in hiding?

This feels so wrong, but I’m supposed to get to the bottom of this discrepancy, so I flip through the
check register. Recorded are two to five deposits for each month. The first entry is fourteen months before the last one, which is in late November of the year Krystal died.

“Oh, no,” I mutter under my breath after reading the final balance listed. My hand covers my heart, but I should probably be gra
bbing the garbage can in case I puke. This is adding up to something awful, but I have to be absolutely sure of what I suspect before I tell a soul.

Like her other work, the check register is meticulous, every line filled in neatly.
I begin analyzing Kyle’s words about Krystal being particular.

S
he would only give him certain work to do and not allow him to be involved with the accounts payable process. If she was embezzling by way of a fake company, then it makes sense that she would not have wanted him paying the bills.

I
t would also explain why she avoided hiring help. The more people involved, the more likelihood of her being caught.

I tuck the checkbook, along with the key, back into
the envelope and lock it up in the bottom side drawer of my desk.

After f
inishing my filing, I reinstall the drawer, which still jams. Hmm … another thought hits me, so I slide out the drawer above that one to see if by chance there is another envelope taped inside but there isn’t. I should check them all.

It makes sense it
would be taped inside the bottom drawer. You must be at eye level to see that far back, so it’s less likely someone would ever find it unless they are weird like me and wrestle with file cabinets.

There
are no envelopes taped to the other drawers, so I go to my desk and check behind the two large ones there, but I find nothing.

Rec
alling that I hid some login information under one of the drawers at my previous job, I pull out the small one on the right and reach under it.

Shit, I feel something. Droppi
ng to the floor, I peer up and see an index card taped to it. Carefully, I peel it off and sit back in my chair.

There is a list of login
s and passwords to different websites. Two banks are named with login details, one of which is to the bank that’s listed on the business checks I just discovered.

There are
three for email accounts and one for Facebook, along with some shopping sites. I’m already sailing in dangerous waters, so I put it back under the drawer. It’s doubtful the accounts are still active.

It’s time to delve back into the accounts payable records to find out everything I
can about Castle Clean Supplies and Services, to see whether anything unusual or shady, as Kyle put it, stands out. Unfortunately, I’m almost certain I know the answer.