Page 8 of Brutal Heir

“Come in, Sage,” Ramos calls from the front gate.

I curl my fingers into my palms, the pressure forcing my arms to tremble. After a couple of seconds, I blow out a breath and pull the radio from the clip. “This is Sage.”

“The jet landed in Delta section a few minutes ago,” he reports. “Took me a few to log a crew coming in.”

At least it wasn’t bad news. “Roger that.”

I clip the radio to my waist and sit back. For some odd reason, knowing Addler de Marco is home makes me smile. Not sure why—the owner is far removed from anyone at Kelly Oil& Gas, despite the fact the construction office is on his ranch. Well, that’s not completely true. Mr. de Marco and Bill have a relationship that goes way back to when Bill was still a law-enforcement officer.

I glance at the lower corner of the screen to check the hour. Another win. Opening the lower drawer of my desk, I pull up the remaining soup cans, one by one, to read the labels. I don’t know why I bother. It’s one unappetizing option or another. Blowing out a breath, I grab a can and push up from the office chair, heading toward the kitchenette.

I step out to the hallway just as Bill goes around the corner, toward his office, phone in hand. I’m surprised he has a call today. Most of the people at the Houston office are wrapping up for the holiday weekend, if they aren’t just working from home.

As expected, the kitchenette is empty. The cabinet door squeaks loud enough to sound like a screech in the silence. I wince and glance around to find myself alone. I guess everyone here is out also. Shrugging, I reach in and grab a disposable bowl then close the door with extra care. Pouring out the contents of the can, I set the bowl in the microwave and head down the hall. If Bill’s here, then Elena’s here. Maybe we can keep each other company while we eat.

I stop at her door, bracing my hand on the wall. Elena’s focused on the monitor in front of her. “Hey.”

Elena looks up from the screen. “Hey.” She smiles. “What are you up to?”

“Lunch. Figured I’d see if you wanted to take a break.”

“Um.” She taps her cell, bringing the screen out of sleep mode then nods. “Sure. Let me just save what I’m doing, so I don’t lose my spot.” She switches to her computer then clickson the mouse, waiting for the process to finish. Considering all the invoices she manages, I can’t blame her. I couldn’t imagine losing all the data. “Okay, I’m good.”

I lead the way to the kitchenette, where she goes to the fridge, and I circle back to the microwave just as it beeps. “Perfect timing.” I pull two paper towels from the roll, fold them then reach in and wrap the side of the bowl to bring it out. With the heat moving through the cardboard, I have to fast track to the kitchenette. “Ouch, this thing is hot.” I set the bowl down and blow on my fingertips.

“I got a spoon for you,” Elena says, handing me the utensil. She settles in at the end of the table, unwrapping the handles to a plastic bag holding her lunch.

I try not to stare at the sandwich she’s unwrapping. What I wouldn’t give to have her trade with me.Come on, you fat bitch. The words echo in my head, cooling the craving for the thick slices of bread. I stick the spoon into the soup, stirring as the heat rises from the meager vegetables swimming in the tasteless, low-sodium broth.

“The jet just landed,” I say, trying to start up a conversation.

Elena quirks a brow. “The jet?”

“Mr. de Marco’s coming in,” I clarify.

She stiffens. “Here?”

“No.” I shake my head. “He’s flying in. He’s home.”

“Ah.” She nods, her expression disinterested in him.

Am I the only one who appreciates a well-built guy in a suit? “He’s never been here.” I shrug then continue stirring my soup to cool it down. “We deal with Ezequiel, the ranch manager.”Dark, arresting eyes filter into my thoughts for a second too long. Then that cynical twist of his lips comes in, reminding me he’s a jerk.

You don’t belong here.

I shove the memory to the back of my mind, intent on burying it. “He’s a piece of work,” I mutter, pressing my lips together.

I’m not sure how long Ezequiel wandered through my thoughts, but I went still. Sitting up, I readjust my uniform, still not comfortable with the fact I’m back in security. Why did Dad have to reach out to Mike? Once the manager found out about my experience working at the family security company, I was pulled into the department.

If I learned anything along the way, it’s that security and law enforcement aren’t for me. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and Dad hasn’t come to terms with it yet. He thinks getting me back in the life will fix everything. It hasn’t. It won’t.

Elena picks up her sandwich, snapping me back to attention. She’s scrolling through her phone halfheartedly.

I bring a spoonful of soup to my mouth, but it’s still too hot. I go back to stirring. The low-calorie option doesn’t seem the least bit appetizing, no matter how much I stir.

“I’ve never met him.” I pick up the conversation where I left off. “But the waitresses atTacoriendoran to the glass door to check him out.” They’d gone running across the linoleum tile, skidding as they tried not to slam into each other. “I thought it was hilarious, considering the place has windows across the front and one side of the building. I guess they got a better view from there.” Not that I was able to see anything around the waitresses and the manager crowding around the window.

I shrug. “Best I can claim is that I saw him from a distance once.” He was in town, talking to Bill and his wife. Actually, it was more like towering over them. He’d be more than a head taller than me. “He’s tall, dark hair—”

---