ChapterOne
Beau
Beau Westhaven wasn’t superstitious, but when he pulled in front of 911 Larimer, a chill raced down his spine. Nines and ones seemed harmless until placed in a specific order, and then they became life-altering. Years ago, on September 11, his life changed forever. That day, the South Tower collapsed, and his father died.
Sound bites and pictures repeatedly replayed year after year. No kid should have to watch their parent die on national television for decades. The unrecognizable heap of the Twin Towers buried thousands of hopes and dreams. Even now, when he closed his eyes, he still saw the flames and tasted the dust.
He laid his head on the steering wheel and sucked in a cleansing breath. Today began with a new journey, a new life, and a new city. It was a place filled with opportunity and void of gut-wrenching memories. It was the first day of his forever.
Smack dab in the middle of another city’s downtown, this 911 would give life and not take it. He would transform an old storage facility into a high-end housing complex. It would be a place where families came to live, love, and laugh.
Workers formed groups on the sidewalk in front of the building. This wasn’t how he imagined his day beginning. The sound of hammers and the buzz of saws should have filled the crisp morning air. Instead, everyone’s attention was directed to the front door as if waiting for someone to arrive. Surely, they couldn’t be waiting for him.
His uncle, Kyle, the site electrician, had the keys to the building and the authority to let the crew inside. Why were they standing around and not working?
He scanned the onlookers and found Uncle Kyle staring, frowning, and sipping his coffee from a large silver thermos.
Beau gripped his hard hat, threw the truck door open, and hopped out. Time was money, and he had neither to waste.
Having grown up in New York, he was good at assessing situations. Living in a big city made him cautious and aware. Walking through urban areas any other way jeopardized a man, and he’d never let himself be vulnerable again. Tightened down, battened up, solid—that was him.He didn’t have time for tears, tempers, or timeouts.
“Kyle, what’s the problem?” he called from across the parking lot. “Open the door, and let’s get started.” Uncle Kyle had been his mentor since they discovered they wanted the same thing—the rebirth of the family business, Westhaven Construction.
Beau was surprised he wasn’t already inside. Kyle was the one who’d taught him the concept of early was on time, and on time was late.
Kyle pointed past the crowd toward the front door. “That right there is your problem. What are you going to do about it?”
The workers blocked his vision, so he weaved through the crowd and stopped. “What the hell?” Chained to the door was a beautiful blonde. “I don’t have time for this.”
The woman peered at him with suspicion. She couldn’t have been over five feet tall, but those piercing eyes and set jaw demanded attention. With blonde hair, black shorts, and a yellow T-shirt she reminded him of a bee. The problem with bees was they were annoying, and their stings hurt like hell. Something told him the little blonde in front of him would have a deadly stinger.
“What do we do?” He rubbed his jaw and took in the situation.
“You’re the boss,” Kyle said. “What do you want to do, Beau?”
He pointed to her. “She needs to go.”
Kyle took a long draw of his coffee and chuckled. “Have you seen the chains? Seems to me like she’s intent on staying.”
Leaning as far forward as the chains allowed, she yelled, “I have the right to protest!” The big voice that silenced the crowd didn’t match the lithe little thing in front of him. “You have criminals running your company.”
Was it possible for a hangover to return? It was seven o’clock in the morning, and this wasn’t his plan for the day. He’d never been into the bondage scene, but he had to admit the chains and locks didn’t diminish her beauty. They only enhanced her allure. However, she was wasting both time and money.
Getting rid of a rebel wasn’t on his priority list, but he had to regain control of this project. If he finished it on time, he’d get a bonus. If it got done early, he was guaranteed a more significant incentive—big enough to get his mom out of her awful New York apartment and into something nicer in Florida, near his aunt. If he were lucky, there would be enough left over to put a dent in the capital he’d need to rebuild his father’s company. None of that was going to happen if he didn’t extricate her from the building.
“Open the back doors to let the crew in, then bring me the bolt cutters.” He set his lunch pail down, put on his hard hat, and pulled on his gloves. How bad could this be? He’d cut her loose and send her on her way. Hopefully, that would be the end of it.
When he approached, she gave him a smile that delivered every message from how do you do, to piss off. The closer he got, the prettier she looked. Not Fifth Avenue, high-maintenance gorgeous, but just-got-out-of-bed, messy-hair, blushed-by-sex gorgeous. It just goes to show how camouflaged crazy can be. It comes in all kinds of packaging.
She gripped the chains tied around her wrists like they had the power to protect or give her strength. A padlock hung just above the low-rise jeans that barely covered her sharp hipbones.
“It looks like you got tangled up.” His large frame cast a shadow across her body as he tugged on a chain and pulled on a lock. “I’ll be happy to assist you.” The damn woman padlocked herself to the door with several chains and locks.
“Need help?” Kyle arrived with a colossal pair of bolt cutters. His eyes skimmed the woman’s body and landed on her thin T-shirt.
Unable to avoid looking, Beau’s eyes zeroed in on how the chilly morning air had affected her. More than the hair on her arms was standing at attention. “Nope, we’re just getting acquainted. I’ve got it under control.”
Her caramel brown eyes followed his line of vision, then widened. She curled her shoulders in with no hope of concealing her happy-to-see-him breasts. “Leave me be. I have a right to protest.”