Page 6 of Crude Heir

“The tray’s unstable,” she warns, frozen in place.

“I’ve got it. Go.” Nicole’s eyes widen, but she scrambles down the hall without hesitating. I pivot to face Jenae, her eyes growing impossibly wide as I hold out the tray. “Both hands.” She fumbles then holds out both hands. Once she has a firm hold on the tray, I release it. I pull a coffee off the cup holder and confirm the name Simon written in bold, black marker along one side.

“Um.” Jenae looks on with concern. “That’s—”

“Thanks,” I say, keeping a straight face as she stands there, unable to do anything to stop me. Then I turn to Simon,who’s still at the conference room door, his hand clutching the doorknob. His face is red enough to look like he has a bad case of sunburn.

I hold the cup up like a toast then turn back to head down the hall toward the CEO’s office, taking a long drink of the overly sweet concoction.

The bastard’s going to be furious. Here I go, taking yet another thing that he expected to be his. I couldn’t have set this up better if I’d planned it.

I cut to the right and go into the stairwell. As soon as the door closes behind me, I lean back against the wall. Switching to the messaging app, I call up my mother’s name. After a second’s hesitation, I type out my request.

Send me whatever you’ve got on the situation we discussed. I’ll work quietly and see if there’s anything I can find.

Satisfied, I hit send before I change my mind. If I’m lucky, she’ll do as I ask without giving me any problems.

Chapter 3

Nicole

Derrick’s command to “go” is barely out of his mouth before I’m moving. There’s no mistaking the fact it wasn’t a request. I didn’t have to see his face to confirm he’s mad again, though I don’t know why. At this point, I’m just glad his anger isn’t directed at me.

With my task essentially done, I rush back to the elevators, eager to get clear of whatever’s going on there. The echo of my heels reverberates with each click against the polished floor as I try to outrun the wave of tension chasing after me.

I reach for the call button, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. I bite down on my lip for all I’m worth. Thankfully, the doors to the third elevator slide open immediately. I practically dive in, thrilled to escape the turmoil happening just past the glass doors.

I press the button to get to my floor. This time, the familiar hum doesn’t send that shot of unease through me the way it did earlier. Then again, I’m not riding with Derrick. All six-foot-something man, with a carefully controlled restlessness that always seems to hover beneath the surface, hinting at so much more.

I’ll be waiting.

His voice echoes in my head as I exit the elevator. It’s that voice of his, some kind of deep, sexy, gravelly tone, that sends a wave of awareness through me. Maybe it’s just me, but the words seemed to hold a hint of promise just now.Argh, stop it.I’m being ridiculous. It’s the unknown that has Derrick Stockton taking over my thoughts. It has to be.

I scan the card reader at the entrance of the accounting department, letting myself in. A couple of people glance my way from their cubicles to see who’s coming through before going back to whatever they were doing.

Over the last few months, the dirty looks have become less and less. While the senior Mr. Kelly thought he’d reward me for my work by assigning me to an office, he probably didn’t think about how it would affect the people who have been with the company longer.

“Young lady, with the hours you keep, you’ve earned an office. And nobody here can tell me otherwise,” he’d insisted.

He’s a nice man. That’s the reason I’m trying so hard to find out what’s happening in his business, even when nobody will listen. I know he ended up in the hospital, but he’s recovering well. From what I hear, he’ll be back soon. By then, I should have found out something, Hopefully I can put together a file on everything that looks suspicious. He can look it over and have a professional look into the matter. It’s the least I can do for him.

That reminder fuels a sense of urgency, quickening my pace across the floor. I reach my office, letting myself in then closing the door behind me. Should I lock it? I need privacy for a few minutes while I contact Derrick.

How long can I keep the door locked without someone coming by? They’ll immediately wonder why, and it’ll likely come back to haunt me. I blow out a breath and rush to my desk as if it’s the big X on a treasure map.

Today’s streak of luck is almost unbelievable. I’ll have hours to myself to dig until my heart’s content.

I take a seat and pull my cell from my bag before dropping it in the drawer. My hand has a slight quiver as I grasp the mouse. The movement makes my screen light up as the computer comes out of sleep mode. I type in my password, my fingers trembling with every keystroke.

I’m doing this.

The messenger app is still open from when I was logged on earlier. Navigating to the search field, I drop my cursor and type in Derrick’s name. His picture, him in a dark suit against a green background, appears at the top.

I click on his profile information and get his title, email, office location, and cell number. Plugging it into my phone, I create a contact for him then compose a message, typing in my personal email address, as instructed. Not willing to take the chance he’d forget who I am, I add my name at the bottom for good measure.

Hesitating, I reread my message, making sure each letter in the address is entered correctly, then blow out a breath. All I need is to end up misspelling something and losing hours of data mining and investigation. With a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty, I hit send and watch the message pop up in a green bubble.

A minute goes by as I wait for some sort of response. Maybe I read too much into it when he said he’d be waiting. I tap my finger on my desk as time crawls to a stop.

---