Page 83 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)
Three of the offices are empty; we get a few questioning looks as we work our way through. But one of the last two empty spaces show the signs of disruption we’re looking for.
“This one?” Grant asks, still trying to prod her for more information. It’s clear she didn’t see any of this though.
“I think so.” Harper steps into the room, but she doesn’t touch anything. She’s too smart for that, but the way she trembles and covers her mouth when she rounds the desk.
I stride up behind her and see the remains of Sunny’s phone and battery in the otherwise empty trash. My arm comes around her shoulders, tucking her back against me.
“Wait.” Harper peels my arm away slowly and approaches the desk. “God, she’s so smart.”
I’m waved forward, there’s a snug little tracker on the keyboard, hiding in the drive in a commonly unused port. I huff out a laugh. Yeah, that tracks with what I’ve observed of the intern.
I bend closer, the faintest green light blinking like it’s been waiting for us. An additional bug in the non-standard port—one we use for classified ops. Not something Sunny should’ve known. But then again, that girl’s been full of surprises since day one.
This one has audio/video capabilities.
I turn to look at Grant, nodding. He’s on with Oliver immediately, and when I meet Harper’s gaze, her fingers are pressed against her mouth and tears gloss over her eyes. Her shoulders square, and she sucks in a slow breath.
“She left that for us. She knew she was in danger.”
And she did everything she could to leave us clues. Now, we have to be smart enough to find them all.
I peel the bug out of the computer and hand it off to Grant, plugging it into the device in his pocket. His eyes darken as he quietly and calmly confirms with Oliver over the comms.
His jaw clenches when he peers up at us again. “And whoever took her…knew we were watching.”
30
HARPER
The shock has worn off, and they’ve officially holed me up in Grant’s office.
Trent is out on recon, and Oliver is searching through the program Sunny left on the computer she broke the drive off in. The extra bug already revealed a short video of Sunny’s scared face and her last words: “They’re coming. Find me.”
My heart wrenches at her words. At how I got her into this.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, I take in Grant’s office again. Dark. A mix of modern and old fashioned. All power.
But Grant isn’t behind his desk like he usually is. Not working. Not fussing. No, he’s sitting on his couch by the far wall. And he’s gone a different version of quiet.
He looks lost in thought and not the good kind. He’s peering down at something in his hand, so I rise from the comfy chair he settled me in and walk over to him, tipping down the frame in his big hands. It’s an old photo of him, Oliver, and Trent. And my dad.
The shock of seeing them all so young—so long before me—sends a flutter through my chest. None of them had the degree of seriousness I see in them now.
Grant isn’t meeting my gaze, staring off somewhere else. All the control he usually has, it’s learned. It has to be. Because this is his grief. A festering wound underneath the strong facade.
How many times has he been broken before to hide it this well?
If I hadn’t spent every day with him for the last three weeks, I likely wouldn’t be able to tell.
I lift the frame from his grip and set it aside before I crawl into his lap. This isn’t a distraction. I’m not feeling particularly sexy, even if I’m sure he could convince me if he really wanted to. No, this is something more.
Comfort. Necessary for us both.
His arms come around me as I lean into his chest. Grant is so warm and solid under me. It’s easy to settle against him, my hands at his sides as I sink my face into the open collar of his shirt and breathe him in.
One arm tightens around my shoulders as he holds onto me tightly.
God, I’ve missed being hugged like this. Something that manifests my dad for me. Strong, long, smothering hugs. This may not be exactly the same. It never could be. But it’s close enough to bring tears to my eyes. Not the kind that will fall, but a recognition of what I’ve lost.
