Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (33 page)

I rub my face. Why am I here again? Before I can finish the thought, Maxine reminds me.

“Evan, I don’t think your stepfather will agree with your decision. The company needs the revenue.”

“Not at the expense of our ethics.” The company is at risk, yes, but it’s mostly due to poor business practices such as the ones Maxine is suggesting I entertain. I understand she learned these tactics by my predecessor, but he was conniving snake―which is why he’s currently serving time for embezzling the company’s money and I was recruited from our London branch to save the enterprise from financial collapse.

“What about your eleven a.m. with the V.P. of County General?”

“Have Ann and Clifton begin if I’m not on time. I emailed them the presentation last night―”

“Do you really think they’re qualified?” she interrupts.

I open my mouth to argue and insist that they are―and to remind her I’m her superior, not the other way around. But Ann and Clifton are still fairly new. They’re not at the level I need them to be. However, they’re learning fast under my tutelage and the only ones from the original staff that I currently trust.

“Evan?” she presses.

“Maxine, Ann and Clifton will handle it. That’s my final word.” I disconnect then, swearing as I take the ramp and practically glide down sideways.

“Get a real car, fucker,” another proud Pennsylvanian hollers.

I rub my face again, both because I’m tired and equally frustrated. Three in the morning. That’s the hour I arrived home earlier today. It wouldn’t have taken me as long had I been driving a vehicle capable of enduring this ridiculous weather.

I glance up, releasing a tense breath when the sign from the Ford dealership I researched this morning comes into view. Saving iCronos will take me time. Time I can’t spare driving a Jaguar on roads better maneuvered via dogsled.

My car slows to a stop in front of the massive dealership. The combination of the vehicle I’m driving along with the expensive suit I’m wearing beneath my long wool coat commands attention. The moment I step inside, a young woman with short dark spiky hair hurries over. “Good morning, sir. Are you interested in acquiring a new vehicle?” she asks.

She seems young, but eager, a respectable attribute. Yet no sooner does she finish speaking than a man about my age steps in front of her, adjusting the jacket of his gray suit. “I got this, P,” he tells her. “Get us some coffee, will you?” He holds out his hand. “Hello. I’m Oscar Nelson. Welcome to Ford Nation.”

My frown bounces from his hand to the young woman whose face is now bright red with anger, humiliation, and possibly more. “Are you his secretary?” I ask her.

“No,” she answers. “I’m a car sales representative for Ford Nation―”

Oscar begins to talk over her, but it’s the stomping sound of quickly approaching footsteps that lures my focus. A woman with a pinstripe jacket and matching skirt storms forward, the quick motions of her long toned legs causing the edge of her skirt to brush above her knees and swing her hips seductively. Long hair flutters like a black silk sail behind her, revealing a face better suited for my wildest dreams. Sapphire blue eyes shimmer behind a thick layer of dark lashes, lighting her creamy white skin and full pink lips.

I spent the first two years following my completion of my masters in either a lab or boardroom packed with men in alternating stages of balding, and these last three months working eighteen hour days trying to rebuild an empire. I haven’t had the opportunity let alone the time to meet women. But if I knew women like her existed, I would have spared a moment.

Good . . .
Lord
.

I don’t realize I’m gaping until she stops directly in front of us and juts out her chin. “Problem?” she asks Oscar.

Oscar stiffens his posture. “No. I was just showing Mr. . .” He motions to me. “My apologies, what’s your name, sir?”

“Jonah,” I say, returning my full attention to the stunning young woman. I offer her my hand. “Evan Jonah.”

A smile eases along her face, revealing a set of perfect white and drawing more attention to her delicate features. “I’m Erin O’Brien, but I go by Wren,” she says, shaking my hand with a firm grip before releasing me and easing the smaller woman forward. “How can Penny and I help you today, sir?”

“I was looking for either an SUV or a truck than can handle this winter,” I answer, doing all I can to keep my eyes from trailing down her body.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Penny, will you show Mr. Jonah―”

“Evan,” I interrupt, mentally kicking myself for morphing into a fourteen year old boy the moment my eyes locked on this woman.

“Okay, Evan,” she says. “Penny, please show Evan our latest members of the Ford family to get an idea what may fit his needs.”

“Of course, this way, sir,” Penny answers with a smile.

I reluctantly follow behind Penny. Only because it’s now obvious I can’t rip my eyes away from Wren. But as we reach a black Explorer my attention trails back to her and Oscar. They’ve moved away from the main showroom and closer to the rear offices. Yet that doesn’t stop me from hearing their exchange.

“What the fuck was that?” Oscar snaps.

My spine stiffens. I storm forward, ready to demand he apologize for using such foul language in front of a lady.

“You being a raging asshole,” Wren replies.

I’ll admit, her response gives me pause. And she doesn’t stop there. “Look, I know you have to compensate for your less than average-sized dick. But that doesn’t give you the right to mistreat Penny or pounce on every client she approaches. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Um, perhaps a truck will be more to your needs,” Penny says, motioning to the far section of the dealership and away from the heated conversation.

I’m not typically a voyeur. I also don’t typically interact with women who speak this way. But it’s not just Wren’s use of language that captivates me, it’s her strength, and her desire to protect her small friend. 

“Where the fuck did you hear that?” Oscar responds. “I don’t have a small dick.”

Of all his possible retorts,
this
is the one he chooses.

“Suze,” Wren calls over her shoulder in the direction of the finance counter. “What was it you said about that night you went out with Oscar?”

The woman behind the counter scowls and holds up her pinky. Wren smirks. “Looks to me like you should have called her back.” She pats his shoulder. “My condolences to your man parts.”

She starts to walk away, pausing when she realizes I witnessed their interaction. She must know I heard her, but instead of making a quick escape or attempting pretend as if I didn’t, she marches toward me, keeping her head up. “I apologize, Mr. Jonah―”

“Evan,” I clarify as she reaches me. Good heavens, and there’s that smile again, stirring one of my own.

“Evan,” she repeats. Her eyes skip to her friend. “I see Penny is taking good care of you.”

“Actually, I thought perhaps you can take over,” Penny says. Her stare bounces between Wren and I, likely recognizing how entranced I am by her.

Wren tilts her head. “I don’t want to intrude on your sales pitch,” she says.

“You’re not,” she responds, carefully edging away. “I’ll take the next one. Honest.”

She watches her walk away, before placing her attention back on me. She considers me a moment, as if trying to figure me out, but then motions back to the Explorer. “This is the latest model in Ford luxury, capable of keeping you safe, meeting your needs, and packed with plenty of toys,” she begins.

I follow her as she leads me around the vehicle. The ease in her speech and her relaxed posture reveal a woman who knows her products and her job well. I question her about the vehicle’s most basic facts first: mileage, warranty, and safety features, before testing her intelligence further. She doesn’t disappoint, explaining the vehicle’s functions in great detail down to the engine’s construction, adding to my growing attraction to her.

“Would you like to take her for a ride?” she asks. She punches my arm affectionately, drawing my attention briefly away from me face. “This way you can see how smoothly she handles the road and then you can then say, ‘Wren, how did I ever survive without a Ford.’”

“I’d like that,” I answer, keeping my smile. This woman who appears more elite model than sales rep knows exactly what she’s doing. “Very much.”

“Good,” she says, pointing at me. “You’ll wonder how you ever got along without her.”

As I watch her walk away, I start to wonder that myself.

READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT FROM

Inseverable

A Carolina Beach Novel

by Cecy Robson

PROLOGUE

Callahan

Three days.

That’s all I have left until this shit ends.

Three days shouldn’t feel like forever, not compared to the eight years I’ve bled for the Army. Thing is, good men have been killed in less time. In as quick as a blink, a squeeze of a trigger, or a small breath right before a grenade blows is all it takes to shove someone right out of life and well into death.

That’s what makes three days as long as it is. Three days is plenty of time to die.

My eyes tear when the wind picks up and shoots grime through the small hole of my lookout point. This damn blown out piece of cinderblock is only big enough to allow me a view of the street below, but not so small I don’t get smacked in the face with more filth. The tarp flaps above me as I spit out another coat of the dirt-sand mix spackling my teeth. Christ Almighty, I need a swig of the water resting near my elbow. But my thirst, like everything else has to wait.

I have a job to do.

I adjust my hips against the cracked cement of my bed, bathroom, and home all rolled into one, thankful that the agonizing ache stretching over the lower half of my body has settled into a now familiar numbness.

Out of all the points I’d scouted, and all the accumulated years spent in this position, I should be used to it. And in a strange way, it should almost be home. Yet nothing ever has been.

But in three days, maybe something finally will be . . .

I shove my pussy thoughts away and breathe as my fellow Rangers stalk along the street. It’s then I see them, a mother and daughter walking straight toward my team. Less than one city block separates them from the men counting on me to keep them alive.

The hell? How did they get past the other sniper unreported? Rogers was new on watch. But the duos’ quicker than normal pace alone should have told him something was up. I train my scope on their faces; their expressions are blank, unreadable. ‘Cept that’s not what keeps my attention.

The little girl can’t be more than five. So why the fuck isn’t her mother holding her hand? I lift my radio and bark a warning, dropping it beside me as I lock my scope dead center on the woman’s head.

The radio crackles and Modreski chimes in, yelling at his team to hold their positions. He asks me what my plan is, ‘cause he knows if something’s caused the short-hairs on my neck to rise, then he and the boys damn well need to listen. But I don’t hear him, with a breath and a squeeze of the trigger, I leave a kid without a mother.

Just beneath the sleeve of her
abayah
―the damn dress that hides more than their skin―I see it, a detonator that would trigger the explosives likely strapped to her chest. A few Rangers I know―Simons and Boreman, rush forward. I start to mutter a curse, pissed at her for making me shoot her in front of her kid. But the curse lodges in my throat when I see the kid isn’t looking at her mother lying next to her dead.

She’s watching my advancing team as she lifts the detonator clasped tight in her hand.  

“[Cecy] Robson’s O’Brien family has the hottest brothers ever! . . . It’s impossible not to keep your fingers crossed for an HEA, but the author knows exactly what she’s doing as readers hold their breath during this roller-coaster ride of passion.”
—
RT Book Reviews

“A delightful and sensual read with a cheeky hero and a sharp heroine.”
—
Heroes and Heartbreakers
 

“Make room on your list of book boyfriends for Curran O’Brien! This bad-boy cop is fiercely protective of the feisty Tess, and the sexual tension between these two is off the charts!”
—
USA Today
 bestselling author Lauren Layne
“If you love a hot alpha male with a badge, you’ll love Cecy Robson’s 
Once Kissed
.”
—
New York Times 
bestselling author Claudia Connor
 
“A riotous hit.”
—Addicted to Happily Ever After
 
“Robson proves once again that she can sweep us off our feet with a fun, romantic tale. . . . [
Once Kissed
] is another must-read. I thoroughly enjoyed this novel.”
—Rainy Day Ramblings
 

“[Robson] truly is a talented writer who never ceases to amaze me with her words.” –
My Guilty Obsession
 
“Robson [is] an amazing author that captivates you with her words . . . I enjoyed [
Once Kissed
] immensely.”
—Collector of Book Boyfriends & Girlfriends
 
“I was very pleased with 
Once Kissed
 and all it offered. Especially the laughs.”
—Christy’s Love of Books