Chapter 3

 

Late February
Saturday

 

“Come on. There’s practically no one here, and we’ll be quick. No one will even notice we’re missing.” Lena whispered the plea into his ear as her hands skimmed downward over the lapels of his navy suit. Owen groaned, his eyes darting cautiously around the cubicles that filled the large, open workspace of the Human Resources department.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s what I’m trying to get into me,” she grinned salaciously, allowing one hand to dip lower still and cup the bulge in his trousers.

“Fuck…”

“Just a quick one.”

“You planned this,” Owen murmured as he captured her lips with his own. “Why else would you be wearing a skirt in February?”

“Or skip the pantyhose that go with it…”

He growled as he reached his limit and began to kiss her more fervently, backing her into a supply closet and practically slamming the door behind them. He worried for a brief moment that someone might have heard and come to investigate, but as Lena had said, there was truly no one there. The Human Resources staff didn’t typically work on Saturdays.

“This is going to be fast,” he warned, cornering her against the back of the door. “And we need to be quiet.”

“Owen,” she panted against his lips.

“What?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Their hands and mouths were everywhere. Grasping, scratching, kissing, licking, sucking, biting… He left a small love bite just below her ear, and the sight of it made his inner beast purr in satisfaction. Lena whimpered with longing and twisted her fingers into his hair to hold him in place. While his mouth worked the sensitive skin of her neck, his hands pushed her skirt above her hips, and his breath caught as he felt the sheer lace of her panties.

No way in hell are those going to survive the next few minutes.

“Do it,” Lena urged, and Owen realized he’d actually voiced the thought aloud.

There was a strong tug and a surprisingly loud tearing sound, and a moment later, her panties were in tatters on the tiled floor. His hand found her center with ease, and he wanted to cry out with pleasure at his discovery. She was so wet that her essence actually dripped onto his hand.

“Holy fuck, baby. I need to taste you.”

“Yes…”

Lena untangled her fingers from his hair and grabbed a nearby shelf for support as Owen fell to his knees in front of her. The extra height provided by her heels put her glistening flesh at the perfect level for his mouth. Owen had developed multiple styles and techniques since they’d gotten together, learning to play her body as easily as a musician played an instrument. Sometimes, the initial touch of his tongue was light and teasing. Sometimes, his fingers explored her first…

This time, his mouth attacked her with almost no warning.

She couldn’t help the cry of shock and pleasure that left her lips as he began to devour her. She’d been so turned on to begin with that she wasn’t surprised when she felt the stirrings of her first orgasm approaching quickly. Owen lifted her right leg so that her foot rested on one of the lower shelves next to them, and his fingers plunged deep into her heat. Lena gripped the shelf with one hand and held the back of his head with the other. She lingered just on the edge of oblivion for another few seconds, and when his teeth clamped down on her clit, she burst, once again unable to contain her cries of ecstasy.

The leg that still touched the floor began to weaken under her weight and the intensity of her orgasm, but Owen held her steady against the door. His zipper was fighting a losing battle, and in another instant, he had freed himself from his pants and risen to his feet. He lifted her slightly and hooked his forearms beneath her knees, pinning her against the back of the door with his body as he filled her with one hard thrust.

“Fuck!” Lena shouted, no longer capable of caring who might hear her.

Owen was barely managing to keep his own noises at a reasonable level as he pounded into her. He covered her mouth with his own, hoping to smother their grunts and moans a little better. There was nothing to be done about the vibrations of the door, but they were well past the point of no return. His baser instincts had kicked into high gear, and he was fucking her so hard there was little Lena could do but hold on for the ride.

He felt her clench around him again and lifted his mouth to watch her face as she came. It didn’t matter if they were making slow, sweet love to one another or behaving like animals in heat; he’d never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of his Lena shattering in his arms. Owen erupted within her not two seconds later, and they rode out their climaxes together, clinging to each other as though the idea of letting go was physically painful.

It took them several minutes to regain their composure and repair their clothing as best as they could, though Lena’s panties were a lost cause. He winced apologetically as he held up the scraps of lace.

“I really liked these,” he lamented.

“Then I’ll buy more,” Lena shrugged, giving him the lazy, sated smile he loved. It was the smile of a woman well-fucked. “I have a backup pair in my purse anyway.”

“You did plan this.”

“Ever since I watched you put on that suit this morning. You should buy more in that color,” she grinned suggestively, eyeing the navy blue suit with renewed longing.

“If that’s the reaction it gets, I’ll never wear anything else.”

They chuckled in harmony and shared one more kiss before opening the door and cautiously peeking out of the supply room. The floor was still empty, and they both breathed a sigh of relief that no one seemed to have heard their less-than-covert quickie.

“I can’t believe we did that,” Owen smirked as they rode the elevator back to the intern offices. “Or rather, I can’t believe it was your idea. What happened to Miss Perfect?” Lena laughed and winked at him.

“Perfect is boring.”

 

 

Later That Evening

 

Logan sighed as he watched the car in front of him turn off into the private driveway that led to the home of Jeffrey Phelps. He continued nonchalantly down the road until Phelps’ car was far enough out of sight before dimming the headlights of his own vehicle and executing a U-turn. He parked a fair distance away from the house and turned off the engine, watching through the trees as Phelps’ car disappeared into his garage.

Logan had followed on foot a handful of times, but conditions were not ideal for such close observation. There wasn’t enough cover between the property line and the main house, and he was hampered by the fact that he was working alone. He wasn’t overly concerned about it, however. Logan had been following Phelps for a couple of weeks, and he was beginning to think they’d overestimated the man’s capacity for espionage. Phelps seemed to maintain a fairly boring existence, traveling back and forth between home and work in a routine that had quickly become predictable. The monotony had been broken only by the occasional business lunch or dinner plans with a woman Lena had identified as his daughter.

Logan was starting to feel like a cop on an endless stakeout, and he was now even more confident about his previous decision not to go into some branch of law enforcement. He wasn’t sure a private security detail would be much more interesting, but at least he’d be able to dispense with the cloak and dagger routine. In the absence of anything else to distract him, his thoughts wandered to Valerie, as they had tended to do with increasing frequency of late.

He was amazed by how quickly she’d become important to him. He’d only known her for a little over a month, but the thought of life without her was almost unbearable. When he was in her presence, he felt whole. He was drawn to her beauty, and he loved her sweetness and intelligence. She was a bona fide genius, but she never made him feel like an idiot for not understanding the scientific concepts of her work. If ever he questioned anything, Valerie always explained the topic in the simplest possible terms and helped him to work it out in his mind. Some things, of course, were simply beyond him, but he was intrigued by the work she did. As if all of that weren’t enough to keep her permanently on his mind, Logan knew without a doubt that he had fallen in love with Valerie Bennet. Completely and without reservation. It was a feeling like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

Now that his feelings for Valerie had clarified things, Logan couldn’t help but feel a little foolish when he thought about Lena, and he’d openly admitted his misunderstanding when he and Owen had hung out alone a few weeks ago. He'd been desperate for something to hold onto while he’d been deployed, and Lena had become his anchor. As his life had grown more and more confusing, she'd continued to be the one bright spot, and it hadn't taken him long to convince himself that he was in love with his best friend. He'd believed it so well that even Owen had picked up on it. Logan probably should’ve realized the true nature of his feelings when he’d been so willing to step back and let Lena go once Owen had entered the picture, but he’d thought he was merely being chivalrous. He hadn’t truly understood the impossibility of giving up on love until he’d met Valerie.

Logan’s thoughts were interrupted by a flash of light from the direction of Phelps’ house, and he watched a different car pull out of one of the garage bays. This one, Logan had deduced, was only used when Phelps was alone. For reasons known only to him, he didn’t always depend on a personal driver for transportation, as Nate tended to do. So far as Logan could tell, it was the only unpredictable aspect of Phelps’ life.

He started his own engine as Phelps pulled out into the street and followed behind at an unobtrusive distance, turning his headlights on only when they merged with other traffic on a busier road. Phelps took his usual route to the interstate, but he didn’t take any of the exits Logan expected. He drove toward another part of town entirely, and the buildings became older and shabbier as they went.

Where the hell are you going? Logan frowned in confusion.

To Logan’s surprise, Phelps parked his car on a side street, and Logan was forced to drive by and circle around the block to avoid suspicion. When he came back through, he managed to squeeze his truck into a space between two other vehicles, and he cursed when he realized Phelps had vacated his car.

Fortunately, he wasn’t hard to spot, and their surroundings made it easier for Logan to follow on foot, keeping to the shadows with his head lowered as though bracing against the wind. However, when Phelps turned down a narrow alleyway that offered less cover, Logan had no choice but to watch from about twenty yards away. The alley was poorly lit, but he could still make out the shape of his quarry.

And Phelps wasn’t alone.

He was speaking in a low voice to a man Logan didn’t recognize. Logan hurried to snap a quick picture with his smartphone, although he knew it was probably too dark to do much good. His mind catalogued the scene rapidly, memorizing what little he could see of the stranger’s clothing and appearance. The man was wearing dark clothing and a ball cap with no logo. It didn’t appear to be the same cap the shooter had been wearing, but it obscured the man’s face in much the same way. A brief glimpse of the stranger’s hands revealed his race to be Caucasian, and Logan guessed his height to be a couple inches under six feet.

The conversation was whispered in voices too low for Logan to decipher, and unfortunately, there was no way to get closer without risking detection. Phelps handed the man something small and was given a slightly larger item in return. From what little Logan could see, it appeared to be a black, zippered bag of some sort.

Phelps and the stranger parted ways soon after the exchange was made, and Logan ducked back out of sight as Phelps emerged from the alley. Logan took another picture before Phelps got back into his car, and this time, he managed to capture a decent image that included the vehicle’s license plate. Logan’s mind raced in a hundred directions as he followed Phelps home, and he didn’t abandon his post until every light in the house had been extinguished.

 

 

It was past midnight when Logan knocked on Lena and Owen’s door, but neither of them were asleep. Wyatt was once again on duty outside the front door, and he nodded politely as Lena let Logan in.

“What happened?” Lena asked with a frown, easily reading the anxiety in Logan’s expression.

“I’m not sure, to be honest, but Phelps got a lot less boring this evening. Let’s sit down. Do you have a pen and paper?”

Lena nodded and retrieved the items from her bookbag, watching in silence as he made a list of street names and human physical characteristics. Logan explained what he’d seen in as much detail as possible, from the exact time Phelps had left his house alone to the moment he’d pulled back into his garage. Next, he showed them the pictures he’d captured, which although poorly lit, clearly showed Phelps’ expressionless face. Owen and Lena listened with expressions of mingled curiosity and suspicion.

“You couldn’t hear any of what they said at all?” Lena asked hopefully.

“No, I was too far away. And neighborhoods like that are never quiet, even at night. I just couldn’t get close enough to hear or see them properly.”

“But he was definitely wearing a hat like the one the shooter had in the security footage?” Owen prompted.

“I don’t think it was the same hat. Similar style with no logo, but I think it was a different color. It looked darker. I think this guy was a little shorter too. The cops estimated the other guy to be over six feet. This guy wasn’t that tall. That much, I’m sure of.”

“So, not the same person.”

“I don’t think so.”

“And they exchanged… What, exactly?” Lena wondered. “What would take him to a neighborhood like that?”

“Drugs, maybe?” Owen suggested.

“That was my first thought. It certainly would’ve been the ideal place for it. He wouldn’t need to go to such lengths to get his hands on illegal weapons, but depending on what he’s into, certain drugs might be harder to come by,” Logan shrugged. Owen and Lena pondered the idea for a moment.

“Phelps really doesn’t seem like the drug user type,” Lena mused. “But I guess I could be wrong about that. A lot of wealthy men blow a significant amount of money on drugs and still somehow manage to do their jobs.”

“I haven’t really been around the guy enough to make an educated guess one way or the other,” Owen replied. “I suppose it’s possible, but Nate is pretty sharp. You’d think he would’ve noticed if his right-hand man was using.” Lena gave an undignified snort and rolled her eyes.

“Not necessarily. He never noticed that his own daughter was.”

“Excuse me?! What?!” Logan’s eyes were wide with alarm, and Lena cringed, wanting to kick herself for her stupidity. She’d forgotten that Logan hadn’t been aware of all of her former habits.

“It was just ecstasy.”

“And weed,” Owen added disapprovingly. She threw him a look that questioned his loyalty.

“A lot of people smoke weed, and I didn’t do either of them very often.”

“Let me guess… This is something you do with your little emo friends?” Logan grumbled. Owen barely stifled a laugh as he answered for her.

“Oh, no, she doesn’t do it anymore.”

“I assume that was your doing?”

Owen nodded, and Logan relaxed minutely.

“It was not,” Lena contradicted stubbornly. “I just didn’t feel the need anymore.”

“And why was that?” Owen pressed.

Lena opened her mouth to speak, but her voice didn’t cooperate. She considered it for a few moments, recalling the gradual shift in her interests and priorities. The truth was that she’d found a better way to relieve her stress and escape the pressure of her responsibilities. Owen. He could calm her faster than any drug, make her forget her problems, and make her truly feel like herself for maybe the first time in her life. She gave him a wry little smile and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, okay.”

Logan’s opinion of Owen rose another notch as he watched them, impressed with the progress he’d made with Lena. Logan had never approved of her friends, and although he’d known about the drinking and the fake ID, he’d never imagined she might have been experimenting with anything heavier. As she’d said, weed probably wasn’t that big of a deal, but it was still illegal. Logan had to admit that ecstasy was perhaps one of the lesser evils she could’ve gotten into, but it too was illegal. She’d been right to keep that particular bit of recklessness from him. She had to have known he would’ve gone straight to Nate if he’d had any idea what she’d actually been doing.

“So, anyway,” Lena plowed on. “Back to Phelps. What do we do now? Can we go to the cops?”

“And say what? That a rich guy met a stranger in an alley on the bad side of town? Makes him an idiot but not necessarily a criminal,” Owen frowned.

“We just keep watching and see if he does it again. It wasn’t a large bag he took from that guy, but it wasn’t exactly small either. If it was drugs, it would have to have been a significant amount. Maybe enough to last him months if he stretches it out.”

“That might explain why you haven’t seen him do anything like that before now,” Lena suggested. “Maybe he keeps a large supply and just now ran out or ran low.”

“That makes sense,” Owen nodded. “I’ll be in his department a bit starting next week. I’ll try to watch him a little more carefully… look for signs that he might be using.”

“If he is, it’s probably a cocktail of different things he’s taking to maintain enough balance to be functional. Surely, he wouldn’t be able to keep that from everyone, though. My dad might be blind, but Phelps does have a staff. Someone would’ve noticed something.”

“If he’s actually managed to cover up an embezzlement scheme and convince your father that he’s a close family friend, then his acting skills are probably good enough to cover this up too,” Owen pointed out.

Logan said his goodbyes a short while later, and Lena sighed, rubbing her eyes and longing for sleep. She felt Owen’s hand on her back and leaned into him appreciatively. It took only a few minutes for her to doze off in his arms, and Owen smiled down at her beautiful face. He knew he should wake her so they could move from the couch to the bedroom, but he wanted to watch her for a little while longer.

She looked so vulnerable as she slept. Her features seemed more innocent, even childlike at times, and it always triggered his protective nature. He held her close as he gently stroked her red hair, his thoughts drifting back to the shooting, to Phelps, and to the unknown man in the alley. Something was happening, and Owen was determined to find out what it was. He pressed his lips to Lena’s forehead and inhaled her sweet, familiar scent.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her safe.