Chapter NINE

FINN HAD managed to get quite a bit done. He’d started to familiarize himself with the business, which meant a morning of meetings with Frank, who managed the workshop, and Stack, who managed the sales side of the operation. He spent the afternoon with the past year’s tax returns and spreadsheets showing the financial performance—the official performance, at least—of the business. Overall, Cummings Motorcycles—or CMC—was a very successful business.

Finn stood wearily. He worked on his neck, extending to each side to loosen the pull he always got when he spent too many hours hunched over the computer. Tightness in his neck and shoulders was something he was very familiar with. It reminded him of all the hours he’d put in studying, hoping to do well at uni, the first step in forging a strong career path. Fat lot of good that did. I’m not exactly working my dream career here. The faint headache that niggled at his temples would fade when he got out of the office and into the fresh air. His back gave a satisfying crack as he twisted to get out the kinks. He couldn’t help the moan of satisfaction as his body got rid of the day’s tension.

“You looked like you enjoyed that.”

“Shit!” Finn jumped and spun around to see Mitch leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Sorry.” Mitch grinned. Yeah, really sorry.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” Finn asked. He flexed his fingers, the tingle from the scare Mitch had given him fading—damn adrenaline rush.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? I’m the one at your beck and call, remember?” Mitch said. Finn studied him, expecting Mitch to be pissed off based on the comment he made, but Mitch was still smiling. Finn liked seeing the easy, relaxed version of Mitch, something he hadn’t seen in their earlier encounters. The man was sexy as all hell when he was serious, all strong-jawed masculinity and piercing gaze, but when he smiled, it caused something low in Finn’s belly to flutter.

He swallowed heavily, suddenly aware he hadn’t replied, and Mitch was looking at him with one eyebrow raised in question. “Ah, sure. Yeah. Just give me five to shut down here, and I’ll be ready to go.”

“I’ll wait out back, then.”

Mitch walked away, leaving Finn staring at the space where he’d just been standing. Butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach, partly due to his embarrassment at acting like a mumbling idiot, and now because of his apprehension about the ride home. All that time spent in close quarters with a guy he didn’t know, one who was on Rocky’s payroll and no doubt wasn’t a choir boy, no matter how much Peter vouched for him. Peter’s endorsement would be about the guy’s trustworthiness and his experience in conducting illegal business, not providing a testimonial that Mitch was a nice guy.

Finn shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused on getting out of the office, a place that felt like his prison. He exited each of the systems he’d been working in, making sure he fully logged out of everything before shutting down the computer. Rocky was a stickler for security and making sure nothing was left open and accessible should anyone, including staff, enter the office.

Once satisfied everything was secure, Finn grabbed his jacket and left the building.

The car Rocky had given him—or should that be Mitch?—was a Range Rover, not something Finn would have expected. Mitch lounged on the driver’s-side door, dragging on a cigarette as he looked around the parking area, but he straightened on Finn’s approach. He dropped the cigarette and ground the butt with his heel before taking a step. For a minute Finn thought he was going to walk around the car to open his door. Finn held up a palm, and Mitch stopped, instead turning and unlocking the vehicle with a click of the fob.

Once buckled in, they exited into peak-hour traffic, joining the lines of cars heading out of the city toward the west. Yes, it was going to be a long trip.

“Nice car,” Finn finally said to break the silence that had become uncomfortable, at least as far as he was concerned.

“Yeah, she’s okay to drive.”

“So have you done much driving?”

“Since I was old enough to get my license.” Mitch chuckled.

Finn shot him a scowl. “You know what I mean.”

Mitch glanced at him, the smile still on his face. “Oh, you mean driving, driving. Yeah, I’ve done a bit. Security is my area of expertise, and driving comes par for the course.”

“You’re a bodyguard?”

“Not specifically. I’ve done personal security but also ensured security and safe transit of goods.”

Finn could read into exactly what Mitch really meant—drug trafficking. Great! I have a drug-trafficking bodyguard to chauffeur me around.

“What do you do?” Mitch asked as he inched the car forward in the traffic.

“I thought my brother would have told you.”

“Rocky just said you work on the business side of things. I assumed that meant the accounts or administration or something like that.”

Finn sank down into the leather seat. He rubbed at his temple, where the dull ache still reminded him of its presence. “I’ve just finished uni. This is my first job except for some part-time work while I was studying.”

“What did you study?”

“Financial accounting and business management.”

Mitch let go a low whistle. “Wow. Brainiac, are you?”

“No. I just like working with figures.”

“So what made you want to work for Rocky?”

“Are you serious?” Finn sat straighter and pulled the seat belt that lay across his chest, suddenly choked by the firm band holding him back in the seat.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mitch glanced at him, the light reflecting off the surface of his aviator sunglasses so Finn couldn’t see his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re particularly observant, for a bodyguard. I thought you’d have picked up on the fact that Rocky wants me to work for him, and that’s why I’m there. What Rocky wants, Rocky gets.”

“I guess it is a family business?”

Finn snorted. It had been a family business until Rocky made sure there was no family. Finn looked out the window at the passing traffic, hands clenched tightly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Mitch said.

Finn took a deep breath. It wasn’t Mitch’s fault the topic of Rocky and the control Rocky had over Finn’s life always pissed him off. “That’s okay. I’d just prefer not to talk about Rocky.”

“Sure. You want the radio on?” At Finn’s nod, Mitch turned on the car stereo that was tuned in to some crap talk-back radio station. “Sorry, I’m not sure what you like to listen to.”

“I don’t care. Listen to whatever you want.” The sound of a latest pop hit filled the car. If it had been Rocky, the music would have been heavy rock. Whatever. He was used to tuning out bad music. Finn crossed his arms and slouched in his seat.

“If we’re going to do this drive twice a day, five days a week, then I think we need to sort out the music now,” Mitch said. His voice was light. “I don’t know about you, but I’ll go batshit crazy if I have to listen to something I can’t stand. So what kind of music do you like, Finn?”

Well, wasn’t this a turn-up for the books? Someone asking Finn what he wanted. Finn couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Maybe when he’d been speaking to his older brother, Carl, about his future. Carl had been interested to know what Finn wanted to do with his life, had asked questions and listened to Finn’s answers. It had been a long, long time since anyone had done that.

“I…. Alternative, indie, a bit of techno.” For some reason, he was completely honest. Finn would never have admitted his music preferences to Rocky or anyone else in the club and wasn’t sure what made him open up to Mitch.

“Yeah? Do you like listening to live music?”

Finn let out a sigh when Mitch sounded honestly interested, with no snide remarks about his alternative tastes. “Sure. I enjoyed seeing some of the up-and-coming new bands who performed in the pubs around the university in Melbourne.”

“Cool. I wish I had more time and opportunity for live music.”

Finn glanced at him. Mitch was focused on the road in front of him, allowing Finn to study his profile. Mitch’s jaw was strong and deeply shadowed with the day’s growth of beard. His nose was perhaps slightly on the larger side, but suited Mitch’s face—strong and powerful.

“So why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?”

“Why don’t you have the time and opportunity to see live bands?”

“Just work getting in the way.”

“No girlfriend demanding your time?” Finn couldn’t help asking, although it probably wasn’t his place to ask such personal questions of an employee. Mitch looked at him briefly. “Sorry, none of my business,” Finn mumbled.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t mind you asking. Like I said, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so it’s probably good that we get to know each other a bit. But the answer is no. No one special.”

A sense of relief flooded through Finn, but he had no idea why. It didn’t matter if Mitch was single because there was no way they’d ever be getting together, even if Mitch were remotely interested.

“Because of the work?” Finn didn’t know why he was asking, but he had a desire to know more about the man who was going to be his driver. Fuck, more than his driver—his keeper, his spy, his jailer, if Rocky had anything to do with it. Finn knew he needed to get over his fascination with Mitch as soon as possible, no matter what Mitch said about them getting familiar with each other.

“Work might play a part. But to be honest, I don’t think I’ve met the right person yet.”

“You’re looking?” Finn nearly bit his tongue. Where are these questions coming from?

Mitch cleared his throat before answering. Maybe it was a touchy subject? “I’m not looking, but I’m not adverse to a relationship. I just don’t think my life is really suited to including someone else in it at the moment. Relationships take time, you know, and I’ve hardly got time to meet anyone, let alone wine and dine them.”

“You’re into wining and dining? Tell me more. What’s your ideal date?” This should be interesting.

Mitch took his eyes off the road, but the sunglasses hid his expression. “Ah… just the usual. Nothing special. Dinner, drinks, that sort of thing. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

Finn’s mind briefly flashed to James, the guy he’d had an on-again, off-again relationship of sorts with in Melbourne. He wasn’t surprised there was no sense of missing the guy. It had been fun, but that’s all it had been.

“No. No one.”

“Maybe you’ll get lucky. There seem to be a lot of girls hanging around the shop.”

Finn snorted, and Mitch raised a brow. “Yeah, not the sort I’d want to wine or dine.”

“Not your type?”

“Definitely not my type.” And in more ways than one.