Page 3 of Rival Hero

Klein’s made no attempt to hide his desire to officially join the intel team, and it seems I’m the only one standing in his way since Big Al has ruled out all the other candidates for the position.

I wonder why Klein craves the job so desperately. Nothing in his past spells out where this desire comes from, and he seems quite eager. Highly motivated. But why? People rarely push hard for things without a driving force. He doesn’t even have a background in intel unless it’s hidden like most of mine will be.

This is a tricky one, but I like the challenge. And the potential he brings flares up my competitive nature.

Decision made— I need to find out more in order to eliminate the threat.

Information on a screen only reveals so much. I’ll have to meet him in person to uncover the rest of his story.

He’s attractive. Fit. Young. Single. Probably ruled by his balls.

With a glance at my bust, a plan swiftly takes shape.

Two days later, I hop a flight from Virginia to Tampa, preparing to obtain the missing pieces of intel before making a final decision about working at Redleg Security. Might as well access the rest of their network while I’m there to see how secure Tomer keeps his shop. Given how easily I found their case files on my first pass, there are multiple vulnerabilities— not many, but enough. A deeper probe will only prepare me for my future role. Maybe I’ll find something about the company that I missed today. I should be prepared. After all, if you fail to prepare, you prepare to fail.

Another logical rationalization for my deviant behavior. Perfect.

Ugh. I hate myself sometimes. Why am I this way?

Oh yeah. I remember.

Because a long time ago I learned that you can’t trust anyone.

And that’s a mistake I’ll never make again.

Chapter2

The pie and the parrot

KLEIN

“Cream, of course. Don’t be silly.”

Honestly, is there even a choice? In the battle for pie domination, cream pies reign supreme.

Standing beside the kitchen chair where I’m seated, Ma beams at me from ear to ear. Bending down, she kisses my forehead and squeezes my shoulder. “Coconut? Chocolate? Banana?”

I scan the counter. “I don’t see any bananas, and you already taught me how to make coconut.” I shrug. “I guess that leaves chocolate.”

Her smile grows impossibly larger, making my chest feel fuller. “I’ll never say no to a chocolate cream pie.” She tips her head toward the kitchen sink. “Let’s get started. You don’t have much time before you have to leave me.” Her lip rolls into a pout.

There it is. The guilt trip I was waiting for.

I deserve it. Especially since I haven’t spent much quality time with her over the last two weeks. It’s been so hectic at Redleg I haven’t had time for more than a quick daily check-in to deliver food, see how she’s feeling, and ensure she’s taking her medications.

And these days, I worry about her being alone that much.

Her guilt is nothing compared to my own. Thank goodness she lives next to her best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without Gloria’s help these last few months.

Stifling a groan and trying to quash my inner turmoil, I wash my hands and join her at the kitchen island. “Okay, what comes first?”

In lieu of answering, she sways to the beat of the Rat Pack’s version of “The Birth of the Blues.” She gazes up at me with a twinkle in her eyes and her hands extended. Flashing me that knowing grin, she implores me to dance with her.

From as far back as I can remember, we’ve danced in the kitchen to this kind of music.

Taking her hands, I give her a quick twirl around the linoleum floor, and she hums along to the tune. Occasionally, I’ll sing along with Sammy. By the time it gets to Frank’s verse, we’re laughing together.

Once I release my hold on her, she catches her breath and finally gets us back on track. “I’ll get the butter and a pie plate. You get the food processor, a small saucepan, and the Oreos from the… from the… uh…” She trails off, unable to finish the sentence as her face waxes with confusion.

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