Coming soon in 2017 from Rhenna Morgan and Carina Press
Live hard, f*ck harder and follow only their own rules. Those are the cornerstones the six men of the Haven Brotherhood live and bleed by, refusing to conform to society’s expectations, taking what they want and always watching each other’s backs.
Read on for a sneak peek of Knox and Darya’s romance
TEMPTED & TAKEN
The next book in Rhenna Morgan’s HAVEN BROTHERHOOD series.
Tempted & Taken
by Rhenna Morgan
One week Darya had waited. Waited, watched her every step and worked herself ragged. Outside the rearranged Post-it on her desk, not once had she glimpsed any indication Ruslan or anyone else had found her. In fact, her life had settled into its usual routine so easily she’d wondered if maybe she hadn’t imagined leaving things askew on her desk.
Regardless, the time to meet Knox was here and hopefully, the leg up she needed to go with the introduction. Parked in front of a single-story building with plain-Jane concrete walls, she stared up at the brushed chrome Citadel Security sign and rehashed the pitch she’d spoken aloud at least twenty times a day. Cool air pumped from the car’s vents against her clammy skin, barely making a dent with all the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
The clock on the dash flicked from 1:54 p.m. to 1:55 p.m. Either she could sit here until straight up two o’clock and let her anxiety climb all the way up into the stratosphere, or she could pry herself out of her car and hope a slightly early arrival showed an extra level of professionalism.
She popped the handle and shoved the heavy door open, swinging her resale Jimmy Choo-shod feet out onto the concrete parking lot. What the tan pumps lacked in pizzazz they more than made up for in accentuating her legs, especially paired with the matching pencil skirt that ended just above her knees and the delicate ivory camp shirt with its mandarin collar. Putting the outfit together had been both a joy and a welcome distraction, a brief trip back to a time when she’d been able to enjoy fine fashion instead of constantly trying to blend in.
Before her hand connected with one of the glass entry handles, the click of a lock being released sounded. She pulled the door open and a wave of chilled air to make her Challenger’s AC seem weak blasted across her skin. Even with the ample light spilling through the double doors and windows on either side, it took her eyes a second to adjust from the bold midday sunshine.
A pretty blonde dressed in jeans and a T-shirt stood from behind a curved reception desk stained a soft ebony and accented in soft chrome. Her eyes were an enviable green and her hair styled in a tousled, pixie cut. She reached across the tops of three monitors arranged in a perfect semicircle and offered her hand in greeting. “You must be Jeannie Simpson. I’m Katy, Knox and Beckett’s assistant. Can I get you something to drink?”
Two or three shots of vodka would be nice. God knew she needed something to loosen up her tongue. While the outside of Knox’s building had been nothing short of plain, the inside was jaw-dropping high-end contemporary. Like Katy’s desk, the walls on either side of her were dark—not quite black, but charcoal gray, and fashioned from some kind of metal rather than paint. The wall behind Katy’s desk, however, was a beautiful dove gray that added extra depth to the limited space. Classy yet edgy cylinder pendant lights with frosted white glass hung above either end of her desk, and two impenetrable steel doors flanked her on either side. “If it’s not too much trouble, water would be nice.”
“No trouble at all.” Katy cocked her head, curiosity glimmering behind her assessing gaze. “Your accent is amazing. I’m guessing Russian?”
For a second, Darya’s thoughts flatlined. With limited daily interactions beyond her normal routine, it was seldom she met new people. So much so she’d forgotten the need for explanation. “Yes,” she said, realizing all too quickly Knox would expect the same. “Not too hard to understand I hope.”
“Not at all. It’s actually beautiful.” Katy punched a few buttons on her computer and waved Darya to the small seating area to one side of the front door. “Just give me a minute to grab your water and let Knox know you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” She splayed her hand on a black screen beside one heavy door and a heavy clunk that sounded on par with a bank vault being released resonated through the room. Only then was Darya left alone in the intimidating environment.
Slowly, she paced toward the iron-colored leather couch and the oblong marble coffee table. Sitting was out of the question, not if she wanted to exude any kind of calm. She might be technically alone in the room, but the cameras anchored in every corner made it relatively certain there were eyes on her somewhere. She squeezed the handles on her briefcase a little tighter and pretended to study the landscape outside one picture window. What really held her attention was the glass itself, multiple layers thick and no doubt capable of stopping bullets. But then such measures made sense for a security company. As did the secured doors. At least she hoped that was the reason for such stringent measures. The last time she’d been in such a tightly controlled environment was the day she’d met Ruslan, and her world had gone from pampered to hell in all of five minutes.
The door kachunked behind her.
Darya turned, the pleasant smile she’d intended for Katy evaporating along with all the air in her chest. Instead of Katy strolling through the large door, Knox ambled her direction, a smile in place potent enough to disarm the most jaded woman and a bottle of water loosely gripped in one hand.
And he was gorgeous. So much more than what the pictures she’d scrounged up promised. More intensity. More charisma. More everything. Like in all the photos she’d seen, he wore faded Levis and military-style black boots. His T-shirt was a deep gray that accentuated his lean, but muscled torso, and tattoos peeked out from each sleeve.
It wasn’t until he moved within reaching distance and held out the water he’d brought her that the white graphic on the T-shirt registered—a classic Impala and the phrase, Get in, loser. We’re going hunting.
“You like Supernatural?” she blurted.
His smile deepened and he wiggled the bottle still in his outstretched hand. “Not even officially introduced yet and you’re already scoring points for good taste.” A rugged leather watch with a thick camel-colored band covered his wrist, while a darker brown cuff and two smaller bracelets made of turquoise and red shells circled the other. Total rock star.
She took the water, wishing she could press the ice-cold plastic against her flaming cheeks, but juggled it with her briefcase instead and offered her hand for a formal introduction. “Sorry. I’m JJ.”
His grip engulfed hers, the warmth of the contact and the way he leisurely perused her from head to toe scattering her barely resuscitated thoughts. “Not a thing to apologize for from where I’m standing.” His gaze settled on hers, the impact of it stoking grossly inappropriate thoughts. Vivid, carnal and deliciously wicked thoughts. His voice lowered and rasped with pure sexual promise. “I’m Knox.”
Oh, yes. Definitely dangerous territory. Absolutely the worst trespass her mind could make with plans to pitch her future so close. She forced herself to relinquish his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
His beautiful gray eyes sparked with mischief and he grinned in a way that said he hadn’t missed the huskiness in her response. He side-stepped and swept his hand toward the door, but rather than use the movement to add more distance, he splayed his hand at the small of her back. “How about we get out of the lobby and give you a chance to get your bearings before we talk shop?”
Walking was good. Distance would be even better. Although, for the first time since she’d started wearing heels, she wasn’t sure if she could put one foot in front of the other without looking like a newborn deer.
Behind the industrial steel door, the air was even colder, the steady draft tunneling between the glass walls on either side of her gently lifting the hair off the back of her neck. “You must really hate July in Texas.”
“My servers hate July in Texas. I learned to tolerate it like every other native before I left the cradle.”
Behind the glass, server racks stretched tall and wide in precise rows. Her heels clicked against the industrial tile, mingling with the steady hum from the machines. “This is all for your security company?”
“Some of them. The rest support the traffic from my apps.”
Well, that was silly of her. The very reason she was here and she’d not been smart enough to realize he’d need a sizable infrastructure to support the business he’d built. She slowed her steps, appreciating how the wires ran in neat rows up the back of each stack then disappeared into the iron racks above. Combined with the soft blue light emanating from the ceiling can lights she felt a bit like she’d entered a sci-fi flick. “It’s quite overwhelming.”
He chuckled and placed his hand on yet another bio scanner beside a black wood door. “Overwhelming is when a server goes down and pissed-off customers start calling in.” The lock released and he opened the door for her. “There’ve been a few drills I’d liken to an electronic version of a needle in a haystack, but hey. Nothin’ like a challenge to keep a man sharp.”
For some reason, the image of Knox knee-deep in a challenging situation sent a charge through her strong enough to power half the machines they’d left behind. True, he was handsome, but nothing captivated her more than a man’s intelligence. Considering Knox had both in spades, it was a wonder she’d been able to string more than three words together, let alone remember her name.
She trailed behind him into his office. It had the same contemporary feel as the lobby, only less intimidating in its colors. A soft gray chenille sofa and two club chairs covered in a matching patterned fabric were arranged near a window on the far side of the room. In the center was what she assumed was Knox’s desk, though it was far more unconventional than the standard arrangement. Where most people chose to arrange their furnishings with their back to the wall and a bird’s eye view on the entrance, Knox’s wide steel desk faced an astounding number of monitors mounted on the far wall, each of them streaming what she assumed was live footage from a number of businesses. Even more impressive were the four oversized computer monitors arranged in a semicircle in the center of his desk.
In the monitors hanging on the wall, people went about their daily activities, innocently working, drinking, and eating without so much as a clue they were being watched.
The muted tap of fingers on keys sounded and the screens went dark.
“They’re a distraction until you get used to them.” Knox spun his sleek black office chair around, rolled it toward a smallish collaboration table on her right and motioned to the guest chair behind it. “Have a seat.”
She did, unpacking her laptop from her briefcase as she did so and setting it on the tabletop.
Directly across from her, he leaned in, rested his forearms on the brushed chrome surface and cupped one fisted hand with the other. “So, you mentioned a business opportunity. What’s on your mind?”
So much for easing into the topic. And had she really referred to it as a business opportunity? Now he’d think she’d pulled some kind of bait and switch to earn his attention. She cleared her throat and smoothed one hand across the top of her computer. “Business opportunity might not be the right way to describe it.”
His expression blanked, the warmth and lighthearted mirth that had shone in his beautiful eyes chilling in an instant. As though she’d not only angered him, but disappointed him as well. Without the vibrancy in his gaze, his eyes looked tired. Pinched and weary around the edges as though he’d gone for far too long without rest.
She forged onward, drawing from the countless rehearsals she’d spoken out loud while pacing her apartment. “You remember when I first reached out to you—when I emailed you on my tracking services—I mentioned I’d learned your name from someone you’d mentored.”
He nodded, though the movement seemed cautious. “Jason Reynolds.”
“Yes.” She fidgeted in her seat and curled her fingers around the furthest edge of her laptop. “Jason’s told me many stories about you. About the men you call your brothers and how you’ve made a successful career for yourself. He holds you in very high regard.”
“Not sure how that plays into a business opportunity.”
This was it. In the grander scheme of things, it wasn’t nearly as big a risk as taking on JJ’s identity or fleeing Russia, but it could still catapult her future. She pulled in a slow breath and held his commanding stare. “It’s important because I want you to mentor me.”
His eyes widened, a little of the emotional barricade he’d put up easing as he spoke. “Jason’s a coder.”
“I know. He’s the one who first gave me the idea.”
“And you know him how?”
“He comes to visit his grandmother every Monday. At a retirement home. His grandmother isn’t very talkative, but he always comes and brings his computer. He told me you’ve been known to teach people with an interest and, if they do well, give them a leg up.”
“I teach people with talent. No matter how much interest a person has doesn’t mean they can be successful in the long run.”
Emboldened, she sat a little taller and leaned in. “I can’t tell you if I have talent, but I can promise you I’m tenacious. I’ve already completed two of the self-teaching courses you recommended to Jason and have started a third.”
He reclined against his chair back, one arm still draped atop the table while the other rested casually at his hip. It was a relaxed pose, but the intensity that crackled around him said she’d be a fool to assume he wasn’t assimilating each and every detail to the nth degree. “You’re looking to expand on the skip tracing?”
Always stick to the truth, JJ had coached her. Or as close to it as you can get.
“I’d like to move away from that business,” Darya answered, “to build a career that’s less reliant on companies but is still transportable.” Realizing the unintended kernel she’d left uncovered, she clarified, “So I can travel.”
For several seconds, he merely studied her, the quiet amplifying until it droned as loud as the servers in the other room.
“The skip tracing is good,” she said, needing to fill the silence. “With my contracts, I can keep a steady income, but I don’t like the feel of it. I don’t like finding people who don’t want to be found. I don’t want to worry that they’ll learn who found their information and take their anger out on me.”
Without moving so much as a muscle, his entire demeanor shifted. A shrewd observer one second and a lethal predator on alert the next. His voice was deceptively smooth. “Has that happened?”
Not exactly. Not to her anyway, but it had happened. “Once. A collection company wanted to locate a man past due on his car payments. He was living at his ex-wife’s address in a town only thirty minutes away. The company secured the car, but the collector inadvertently mentioned who had located the debtor’s new residence.”
“And?”
She shrugged, recalling the none-too-pleasant altercation that had happened only a few months after she’d gone to work for JJ. “People who lose their possessions tend to be very angry. They also want someone to blame for their misfortune, and this man in particular wanted to voice his displeasure. In person.” She paused for a minute, looking for the right words to help him understand without exposing too much of her own predicament. “I don’t want to experience that again. I want to create something. To build a career where my success will be limited only by my abilities.”
He pulled in a slow breath, sighed as though he questioned having scheduled the appointment and sat up in his chair. “You realize there’s a lot more to this than syntax and technique, right? Even with persistence, you need damned good ideas and a hell of a lot of luck if you want to be more than just a hired coder.”
“I will make my luck.”
His eyebrows hopped high and his lips curled in a sly grin. “You quoting me because you believe it, or to let me know you’ve done your homework?”
“Because I believe it. This isn’t the first time I’ve taken risks, and I doubt it will be the last, but every person has to make their own way. If the path doesn’t exist, it’s up to every individual to make one. You took your love of music and movies and made a niche for yourself. I can do the same.”
“You use my app?”
Her and everyone else eager to find new leads for their playlists or Netflix binges. Lystilizer had originally focused on music only, but had been expanded to include movies a little over a year ago. The algorithm behind it was amazing, evaluating each user’s individual libraries and making spot-on recommendations for new purchases. “I use it all the time.”
“Music or movies?”
“Both.”
“Favorite band.”
That drew her up short. “Can you actually narrow your favorites down to one?”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “Fair enough. How about your top favorites in the last six months?”
“Poe, Eve to Adam and Chris Stapleton.”
He cocked one eye and crossed his arms across his chest, but his grin was playful. Clearly, he not only loved music, but he was familiar with a broad spectrum of genres. “Alternative, rock and country. That’s a heck of a spread. I’d have pegged you as a top forty girl.”
She shrugged. “I like music that fits my mood. Why limit yourself to only one format when you can explore many?”
“True.” He cocked his head. “So, what about movies?”
For a second, she ducked her head, then remembered who she was talking to and shook off her embarrassment. What difference did it make what he thought of her burning through pop culture classics? “The Princess Bride and Always.”
His smile deepened. “‘Wuv,’” he said, imitating the clergyman near the end of the movie. “‘True wuv.’”
“‘You killed my father!’” she fired back with her own impression of Inigo Montoya. “‘Prepare to die!’”
He laughed loud enough to fill the room, the rich rumble of it soothing away the remnants of her fears. “A classic. I’ll bet I could drop at least twenty-five quotes inside of five minutes. Maybe less.”
“I’m watching Airplane next. Jason says it has just as many, if not more.”
His laughter died off slowly, and while none of the suspicious tension she’d picked up on before returned, he studied her through slightly narrowed eyes. As if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite put together. “How long have you lived in the States?”
Every time someone asked that question all she wanted to do was bolt, but denying her heritage wasn’t an option. She’d long ago accepted her accent was too prominent to eradicate it without serious training, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable opening doors that might lead to more questions.
The tattoo on his forearm drew her attention. Bold and drawn only in black ink, it resembled a tree but with a tribal style and surrounded a rugged H in the center. A mark with purpose, yet nowhere near as sinister as the tattoos she’d become all too familiar with in Russia. Was Knox dangerous? Absolutely. Her instincts with people were seldom wrong and for Knox they insisted he had an intellect not to be trifled with. She’d even uncovered rumors of he and the men he called brothers having ties to criminals. But sitting with him now—watching him and interacting with him—she sensed fairness. Honor and determination paired with an indomitable courage. If she expected him to take a chance on her, he at least deserved the same willingness in return, even if it gave him a lead toward discovering who she really was.
She took a deep breath, straightened her spine and fisted her hands in her lap. “I left Russia about two and a half years ago.”
Don’t miss TEMPTED & TAKEN by Rhenna Morgan.
Coming soon in 2017 wherever Carina Press books are sold.
Copyright © 2017 by Rhenna Morgan