Page 49 of Her Boss

Ford went utterly still.

Keenan set his cup down on the table, wiping his lips with a knuckle. “Landon?”

A muscle twitched at the corner of Ford’s jaw, his eyes blazing azure fury. “You want me to call… my brother. That’s not fucking happening.” Ford stood then, pulling down his ballcap, hooding his eyes in shadow. White Valley Sheriff was emblazoned across it in yellow, blocky letters. “I think our little chat is done, gentlemen.” He tipped his chin toward me. “Thanks for your input, Mr. Trafford. Know your way back out of town?”

I shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t figure for too long.”

Then, without another word, the taciturn lawman walked out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

“What a prick,” Genie said under her breath, slapping her pen down on her notepad.

“He’s a charmer, that one,” I drawled at Keenan.

My friend chuckled at that. “You have no idea. But I’m damned glad to have him here. We all are.”

CHAPTER 22

Geneva

The man I’d thought Rick was hadn’t so much changed as a result of the meeting with Keenan and Ford. Rather, what it had done regarding my assessment of my boss was… evolve it.

I’d been genuinely surprised Rick had agreed to take the meeting at all, especially considering there was no prospect of compensation or remuneration for his time. He could have easily brushed off the problem of the young women’s disappearances, but instead he’d seemed genuinely concerned and wanting to help.

It was possibly the first time I’d seen any willingness in the man to place his own needs aside and focus on genuinely helping someone else. There wasn’t an angle here, at least none that I could make out.

That’s not saying all that much, Genie. How the fuck would you know what angle to look for?

It didn’t make sense… unless Rick truly did care about helping people. At least once in a while.

While I was dutifully taking down notes during our talk with the sheriff, I hadn’t understood all the implications of what was being said. I did the best that I could, but for all I knew, it could all have been garbage. I didn’t even know what was important—so I’d just scribbled down everything.

The surreal little tour we’d taken down through a tiny part of the town had been something I’d never imagined experiencing. And left me with even more questions than it answered.

I knew it was only a taste of what life in that place was like—perhaps intentionally so.

“Geneva, are you paying attention?” Rick stood over me, where I sat on the cute couch in our suite, as I mused on what I’d seen.

“Uh, sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I want you on your feet, at attention. Now.”

He stared down at me, his eyes piercing and intense. For a moment, I was frozen in place, as was so often the case when I knew he was aroused.

The bulge at the front of his slacks was eloquent testimony to that.

Rick was an individual with more layers than even I had expected. I’d come in expecting a mafia heavy, only out for himself, but he’d shown me something different. He was concerned for others, after a fashion.

That fact cast all of my previous notions of him in a rather different light. It said something about his character.

And maybe, just maybe, that meant there was more to Rick than I ever thought possible.

Wearing only a pair of jeans and a black tank, I got up on my feet, but I didn’t stand at attention, my hands on my hips instead. “Why are you such an asshole, and yet you do things like this?”

“Like what?” His gaze darkened, and he grew very still, watching me closely.

“Like… helping. For nothing.”

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