Page 2 of The Truths We Seek

I grab my phone and send Harper a message asking her to bring me up a cup of coffee. I really need to get an espresso machine in here. I have the bar, but it’s too early for whiskey. Her snarky response makes me laugh, but I know she’ll bring me the coffee whether she bitches about it or not.

The printer stops as the door to my office opens. Harper struts in, face like thunder, but a cup of coffee in her hand. “Coffee,” she snarks, putting the cup on the desk, then stands, arms folded, hip cocked, glaring at me. “Anything else you need, Your Highness?”

“A back rub wouldn’t go amiss,” I tease, smirking at her. She rolls her eyes and huffs.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m so attached to you assholes.”

I grin wide at her as I grab the coffee and lean back in my chair. “You love us. We’re amazing. You’d be bored without us.”

“Uh-huh. Seriously though, anything else before I go back and finish the stock count?”

I shake my head before taking a sip of the apparently-scalding-hot coffee. “Nope,” I hiss, blowing out air to try and cool my burned tongue. “You’re an asshole.”

“You asked for coffee,” she says with a shrug before turning on her ridiculously high stiletto heels and leaving my office, slamming the door behind her.

I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose and taking a deep breath, reminding myself that women are necessary for this business to work. Harper is a good worker, she’s loyal, and she’d never betray us. Even if she does bitch and moan all fucking day long.

I trust her. That’s rare in my world.

The door opens again and I open my eyes, about to ask Harper what sassery it is she forgot to spew at me before, but lock eyes with Hunter instead.

The smiling blond jerk strolls into my office like he doesn’t have a care in the world and drops into the chair opposite my desk. God knows I love him like a brother, but if he puts his feet up on my desk one more time, I’ll cut the fucking things off.

It’s like he can see my train of thought because he leans back, stares at me, smirks, then winks and leans forward rather than kicking his feet up.

See? Jerk.

“What’s got you so cheery?” I ask, despite knowing he’s just a cheerful bastard ninety-eight percent of the time.

“Just got my dick sucked, I am living the good life. Who knew being single was so good?”

I drop the smile on my face and deadpan. “No one. The girls sucking your dick want more from you and you’re going to have to deal with the fallout of it soon enough.”

“You’re a stick in the mud. I know that you haven’t stayed celibate since—”

“Don’t start with me, Hunter.” I get up and head to the printer, hitting reprint before dropping the giant stack of paper in his lap. “Not today. Read up.”

“What’s this?” he asks, his face turning serious as he leans forward and flicks through the pages. “Quinn Summers, twenty-seven, nearly twenty-eight. She’s stunning, but why am I reading what looks like a personnel file?”

“Tommy needs our help.” I tell him as I replay the quick version of my call with Tommy before picking up the re-printed file and starting to read myself.

By the time I’m finished, my headache is worse from the tension in my jaw alone and I want to take out this sorry excuse of a human.

“Why aren’t we just dealing with the ex?” Hunter asks, his expression not far from mine. I tell him what Tommy told me and he rolls his eyes. “That’s bullshit.”

“I agree, but for now, we’re going to help her hide. We didn’t fill the bar position yet, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, why?”

“She looks like she’ll fit in here. We can put her in the tower, you’ve still got your place there. You can keep an eye on her.”

“That I can,” he says with a wink.

“Don’t be a dick, and stop thinking with yours.”

“She’s hot, and reading these journal entries Tommy somehow got—totally not asking if she gave them up willingly—I feel like I know her already. The struggle, the sadness, the darkness, but the light that shines through anyway.”

I nod, agreeing, trying to tell myself that I can’t be half in love with someone from reading about them alone. Life doesn’t happen like that. But reading about her, the notes in here from Tommy, the extensive medical records, the pictures, some of the therapy notes—though they’re sparse, and that’s being generous—it’s like I’ve seen something that I know lives inside of me.

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