Arresting Alan E-Book

Amber Daulton

• Herausgeber: Amber Daulton
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

A hacker, a federal agent, and a crime boss. The time has come to fight.
Computer technician Alan Harding is no saint, but his squeaky-clean image is unshakable in the eyes of his family and especially his young son. After he agrees to assist a drug lord-turned-snitch and hack into a criminal database, he’s faced with an impossible challenge—keeping his hands and heart away from his sexy as sin bodyguard, DEA Special Agent Hannah Adler.
Hannah would rather go hand-to-hand with an assailant than go undercover as Alan’s girlfriend, but she’s determined to keep him safe and his illegal activities on the down-low. The handsome man and his adorable child, however, are more than she bargained for.
Once their enemies learn the truth and retaliate by kidnapping Alan’s son, they’ll have to race against the clock to save the boy and bring a dangerous empire to its knees.

– Book 4 in the sexy romantic suspense series, Arresting Onyx.
– All the books can be read as a standalone, but are part of an interconnected series. The series-wide arc comes to its conclusion in this book, so reading from the beginning may allow for better enjoyment.
– Scenes of organized crime, drug use (discussed), abortion (discussed), kidnapping, and endangerment of a child may be uncomfortable for some readers.
– No cheating and HEA guaranteed!

Available in the Arresting Onyx series
Arresting Mason (Mason and Mia)
Arresting Jeremiah (Jim and Calista)
Ryan’s Temptation (Ryan and Chanel)
Arresting Benjamin (Benji and Belle)
Trevor’s Redemption (Trevor and Shea)
Arresting Alan (Alan and Hannah)

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page/Copyright

Arresting Alan

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Dark Hearts Aflame

Prologue

About the Author

Read More from Amber Daulton

Arresting Alan

Amber Daulton

Arresting Alan © 2024 Amber Daulton

First Edition

Published by Daulton Publishing

Cover Art by Satin Rose Designs

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Arresting Alan

A hacker, a federal agent, and a crime boss. The time has come to fight.

Computer technician Alan Harding is no saint, but his squeaky-clean image is unshakable in the eyes of his family and especially his young son. After he agrees to assist a drug lord-turned-snitch and hack into a criminal database, he’s faced with an impossible challenge—keeping his hands and heart away from his sexy as sin bodyguard, DEA Special Agent Hannah Adler.

Hannah would rather go hand-to-hand with an assailant than go undercover as Alan’s girlfriend, but she’s determined to keep him safe and his illegal activities on the down-low. The handsome man and his adorable child, however, are more than she bargained for.

Once their enemies learn the truth and retaliate by kidnapping Alan’s son, they’ll have to race against the clock to save the boy and bring a dangerous empire to its knees.

Dedication

This story goes out to my computer technician husband, Gregory, who spent countless hours with me going through the various steps in how to hack a computer server. Though I didn’t include nearly everything that makes up the process, I enjoyed the time we spent discussing it and tossing ideas back and forth about other plot points in the story. Thank you so much for supporting me in my making my writing dream a reality.

Prologue

Alan Harding pushed open the heavy steel door and entered the barroom. The stench of cigarette smoke slapped him in the face, and the blare of a ’70s classic rock song rang in his ears. Sneezing hard, clearing his sinuses, he rubbed his warm cheeks and then scowled at the old neon-lit jukebox near the door.

It was like he’d stepped back in time. Of all the joints in Denver, Colorado, he could step into, it just had to be one that didn’t obey the law—no smoking in public places.

Hazy gray puffs of smoke streaked the air like noxious fog twisted through darkened alleys in horror movies. The jukebox masked the conversations flowing from the roughnecks at the bar on the left and from the pinched-faced patrons who hunched over their drinks and cigarettes at little round tables. On the right, an aging businessman in a wrinkled suit fondled his giggling date’s breasts over her dress in a semi-private booth as though Alan and the others weren’t there.

Body heat bounded off the patrons and slicked Alan’s skin with sweat. He fluffed out his shirt and savored the cool air teasing the hair on his stomach.

In the last booth at the back of the establishment sat Bristol Rieger, Alan’s reason for finding a last-minute babysitter for his son. The dark-haired man nursed a tumbler of alcohol, likely vodka, and stared hard at the glass in his hand. The light bulb in the multicolored glass shade that hung above the booth cast Bristol in dull shades of red, blue, and green.

Tension radiated from the other man in waves so palpable that it drew Alan from the doorway and around the tables before he’d made the conscious decision to move his feet, which he’d half feared had rooted to the grimy floor in disgust. He stopped at the booth and waited for acknowledgment, but his friend white-knuckled the glass harder. Alan sighed and slid into the vinyl seat across from him. With his back now to the other patrons, he rolled his tight shoulders and curled his fingers into the fabric of his jeans to keep them from twitching. The ringing in his ears faded, the music less pounding in the back.

“What’s going on? Why did you ask me to come here?” Alan peeked out from behind the partition wall that separated the booth from the adjacent one to make sure no one eavesdropped.

Two rough-looking men at the bar glared at him like he’d spit in their drinks.

He stiffened and scowled at Bristol. “You sounded weird on the phone. Everything all right?” No way was everything aces. Bristol normally didn’t frequent seedy drags as far as Alan knew, and that he was doing so now while wearing what had to be a five-figure suit spoke volumes about how everything was not okay.

“How long have we known each other, Alan?” Bristol asked, his voice deeper and rougher than usual. He swirled the clear liquid in his tumbler before draining it and setting the glass aside with a soft clank on the worn tabletop.

“About nine years.” Alan blew out a breath and flattened his hands on his legs.

They’d met in college on the first day of freshman orientation and roomed together until graduation. Though Bristol was a few years older than Alan, he started school late after an extended break gallivanting around Mexico on his daddy’s dime. College was long over, but they’d remained friends.

A waitress dashed over and retrieved Bristol’s glass. “Another?”

Bristol nodded without glancing up at the young woman.

“Whiskey, please.” Alan pulled his wallet from his jeans back pocket.

“No, sir. It’s on the house.” The woman offered a small smile and then hurried toward the bar, where those two men now stared at her.

Frustration clenched Alan’s gut. From those strangers eye-fucking him to the waitress refusing his money, nothing made sense. He shoved his wallet back into the pocket. “Listen, Bris, I didn’t come all the way down here to watch you stew, so tell me what’s going on. I need to pick up Danny.”

“Your son is about eighteen months now, right?”

“He’ll be two soon, and he’s not used to me dropping him off at his uncle’s house late at night so I can meet you at a shitty bar.”

Bristol snorted, still not looking up from the tabletop. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Sure, and you didn’t have to call me, demanding I meet you now and refusing to do so tomorrow at a decent hour.” He let that last part hang to establish how ridiculous his friend was acting. “What’s up with your voice? Did you swallow gravel or something?”

“Something.” Bristol leaned back in the bench seat as the waitress delivered their drinks and darted off. He finally met Alan’s gaze. They stared hard at each other, unblinking, until Bristol’s nostrils flared. “Have you heard of Onyx?”

“Like the gemstone?”

“Like the criminal organization that runs drugs in and out of the state.”

Uneasiness swept through Alan. “I’ve heard about it from the evening news a few times.”

“What the news stations and media outlets report is only half true, if that. Onyx has monopolized the manufacture and distribution of methamphetamine in all its forms for years. It’s the largest supplier of the drug in the southwest.” Bristol trailed his fingertip across the rim of his refreshed glass.

“You know this how?”

“I’m involved in it.”

Silence spread between them. Alan burst out laughing. “Oh my God, man. That’s a good one.” His cheeks flamed hot as he laughed harder and slapped his hand on the table, rattling the glasses. He grabbed his drink and hauled back a healthy swallow. The smooth burn of liquid fire slid down his throat in waves of soothing bliss. Damn, that was top-shelf whiskey. He licked the flavor from his lips. “Like you would ever be mixed up with drugs and thugs. That stick up your ass is lodged in there pretty deep.” Bristol’s deadpan glare froze the next quip on Alan’s tongue. He straightened and set down the glass. “You can’t be serious.”

“Onyx is run in a hierarchy, starting with the kingpin and ending with the lowest dealer on the street. Capularia is one of many subsets and controls the drug flow through Denver, Aurora, and the surrounding areas. The captain of Capularia recently passed on”—Bristol cleared his throat with a cough—“and I’ve assumed the mantle of leadership.”

“All right. I’ll bite. How did this captain die?”

“Heart attack.”

“Of course, and you just stepped into his place, easy as that,” Alan added, doubling up on the sarcasm while snapping his fingers.

Bristol bobbed his head. Creases bracketed his mouth and eyes like craters.

“Kudos for you.” Alan leaned back against the cushioned seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Not a speck of dirt dared to mar his friend’s black suit, and Alan suddenly wished he’d remembered to change out of his ketchup-stained shirt before leaving home. Why Danny got a kick out of slapping his little hands in the condiments on his plate, which splattered on Alan, he’d never know. “If what you say is true, why tell me? Why now?”

“I wasn’t in the right position to tell you before. Now, as captain, it’s my prerogative to whom I involve in my private affairs. Everything we talk about must remain between us. If you go to the police, I will not be able to protect you from the fallout.”

“No, I don’t believe it.” Alan shook his head, amusement gone. “Now, if you’d said your brother was involved in something crazy and illegal, I would believe that in a heartbeat.”

“He is, but he serves a different set.”

Bristol’s matter-of-fact tone set Alan’s teeth on edge. “Forget it. I know you better than anyone. Why are you telling me this bullshit? The joke has gone on long enough.”

“No joke, and you do know me well. You know Bristol, the man you’ve been friends with since college. You don’t know Thorn. I’ve kept my alter ego, so to speak, firmly away from you until now.”

Alan fisted his hands under the table. “What changed?”

“You.” Bristol cast his gaze across the bar before locking gazes with Alan. “A few weeks ago, you mentioned that your brother might’ve joined a prison gang and wouldn’t make parole. You promised me you’d do anything to help him break free.”

“I remember that. I was also drunk and needing to vent.”

After visiting the prison and seeing his younger brother’s black eye and split bottom lip, Alan had met up with Bristol at a bar and got shit-faced.

“Anyway, I did some checking,” Bristol continued. “Your suspicions were correct. Mason has joined a gang, an Onyx set that’s based in the facility where he’s incarcerated. My contact confirmed it.”

Everything inside Alan stilled. What kind of fucked-up game was Bristol playing? He’d never known the man to be cruel or play practical jokes, but this was messed up on so many levels. He swallowed hard and chose his words carefully. “You expect me to believe you, a self-proclaimed playboy with too much money and time on his hands, actually knows some criminal who claims my brother is a gangbanger?”

“Yes.”

“I should take you at your word, that easy?”

“Ideally. When your brother is up for parole in a few years, the Scorpion—my boss and the general of the largest set in the state—will pull a few strings and get him released despite whatever recent marks are on his record. Whether Mason resigns before then is up to him, but the general will cast him out of the organization once he leaves prison. This is happening for you, Alan. To repay the Scorpion’s favor, you will work for me until further notice.”

“Work for you?” Alan parroted. What else could he say? This was fucking nonsense. Would a camera crew pop out from a backroom and yell “Gotcha!” and then laugh in his face? He stared off toward the darkened hallway at the rear of the bar, half expecting bright lights and flashing cameras. Pain throbbed behind his eyes. He rubbed his temples and pinched his eyes closed until the pain subsided to a dull ache.

“Alan, I’m sorry,” Bristol added, his voice softer. He spread his hands on the table. “If I had my way, I wouldn’t ask anything from you, but I don’t have the pull to help your brother make parole. I had to enlist the Scorpion’s aid, and that always comes at a price. From what I was told, Mason is thriving in the organization. He won’t make parole when the time comes and will serve his full sentence.”

“Fifteen years.” Alan scrubbed his face. Was Bristol telling him the truth? The man had no reason to lie, but all this was coming out of left field. “Prove it to me. Prove you aren’t pulling my chain.”

“Come with me.” He stood so fast from the booth that the glasses rattled.

Alan drained his whiskey, needing the liquid courage, and followed Bristol toward the hall. The fine hair on the back of Alan’s neck prickled. He cut his gaze to the bar, where the same two men glared at him again. His temper snapped. “Is there a problem?” he lashed out at them.

The strangers stood from their stools.

“Ortiz, Ribic. Wait here.” Bristol raised his hand toward the men before he strode down the hall.

Alan hurried after him. “You know those assholes?”

“They’re lieutenants on my council. Keep your distance from them.”

At the far end of the dimly lit hall, a man in a leather jacket guarded a thick-plated metal door that shamed every fire escape exit Alan had ever seen.

The guard entered a code on the mounted keypad. After a green LED light flashed on the pad and a beep echoed, he opened the door and stepped aside.

Piercing white lights shone through the doorway, startling Alan. He blinked hard.

Bristol walked in without preamble.

Half tempted to chalk this night up to a crazy dream, Alan crossed the threshold for the metal platform of the second-story landing. Knees weakening, he gripped the cold metal guardrail and gained his balance. The door clicked shut behind him.

Down below, half a dozen thugs strapped with AK-47s watched several dead-eyed women sort, weigh, and bag chunks of ice before storing the drugs in large plastic tubs.

“Do you believe me now?”

A shiver crawled up Alan’s spine. He peered over his shoulder at his friend, if he could even call him that anymore. “What do you want from me?”

“Your cooperation. For the time being, I need you to outfit my headquarters with updated computer systems. I won’t call on your services often, but when I do, I will require your undivided attention.”

“If I refuse?”

“You can’t afford to do that.”

Bristol’s unsaid words were clear. Alan had a son. Bristol—or those who worked for him—would see to it that Alan obeyed. He shuddered and hung his head, clutching the railing harder. His stomach clenched as though Bristol had ripped through his skin and sinew to fist it. If he’d known about the man’s double life, he would’ve broken ties with him long ago. He would never put Danny at risk, but how could he have known that bitching to his so-called friend about his idiot brother would lead to this? Bristol’s betrayal cut deep. He loved the man as though he was his flesh-and-blood brother, but here he was, dragging Alan into the seedy world of drug running. Every fiber in his being demanded he go to the cops, but no fucking way would he serve Danny up as collateral. God only knew the extent Bristol or his thugs would go to if Alan spoke out of turn. What choice did he have but to toe the line?

“I have so many questions,” he whispered, his voice paper thin.

“I’ll answer as best as I can.” Bristol rested his hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

With one last look at the scene below, Alan steadied his resolve. Whatever happened, happened. He’d deal with it, but his life would never be the same.

Chapter One

Seven Years Later

Would this bullshit ever end? Alan laced his fingers behind his head as he stepped off the private elevator and into the penthouse condo. A shudder raced through him as the scowling henchman patted him down for weapons and wires.

Talk about overkill. The guard at the underground garage entrance had also frisked him.

Once cleared, he stomped from the foyer through the living room. The guard near the curtain-covered windows and the man at the mouth of the kitchen eyed his every move. His younger self would’ve drooled over the abstract paintings and brown suede furniture, but that naïve boy had suffered a gut-wrenching death. Down the hall, embossed ceiling lights shone every five feet as though leading him to the devil’s pit—and they were. Gruff voices rumbled from within the armory and weight room as he passed the doors. His footsteps thumped in time with his racing pulse as he breathed through his stress.

Two guards at the end of the passageway opened a pair of engraved double doors.

With the burden of his mistakes crushing his soul, he wiped his sweaty palms on his jacket and forced his feet over the threshold. The doors thudded shut behind him with heart-stopping finality. Jesus. He had to get control of himself.

“You’re late, Al. When I say five o’clock, I don’t mean five-fifteen.”

As if he cared. Alan rolled his tight shoulders as the mobster glared at him from the far side of the spacious office. “You’re lucky I didn’t skip town.”

Better known as Thorn in the criminal underworld, Bristol rolled his eyes and stood from his chair at his pristine mahogany desk. The dark-red velvet draperies behind him concealed one of the most breathtaking views of the Denver skyline that Alan had ever seen. After Bristol buttoned his slick black suit jacket, he met Alan in the middle of the room.

Sudden movement flashed from the left.

Alan whipped around as a redheaded woman slid her phone into her purse and rose from the brown leather sofa in the lounge area. How the hell did he not see her when he first walked in? She circled the low-rise coffee table and overstuffed armchairs between them with a strong, steady gait and a sway of her bang-me-now hips. Her finely plucked eyebrows winged to her hairline as she cast her sharp gaze down his body.

He stiffened under her perusal. Waves of heat rolled through him as though he’d swallowed a furnace. Aw, shit. Just what he needed—desire. Wasn’t his life fucked up enough? Since he’d married and divorced a petite, attitude-driven redhead, he steered clear of women who resembled his ex. Lord knew Alan had a type, and the woman now frowning at him fit it to a T.

Get a grip, man. He tugged on the restraining collar of his shirt and shook Bristol’s hand. “Where’s Agent Fischer? I thought he would introduce me to the bodyguard I don’t want.”

Bristol had snitched to the Drug Enforcement Administration two years earlier. If the leaders of Onyx—the criminal organization he’d pledged his life to serve—learned of his defection, he wouldn’t survive their wrath unscathed.

Nor would Alan and his family.

Bristol and DEA Agent Ron Fischer had asked for Alan’s help the week prior, but Alan refused. He was only Bristol’s accountant, for fuck’s sake, not a computer hacker with the experience they needed. Then the agent had threatened to arrest him, so Alan caved faster than a sandcastle in a hurricane.

The drug lord-turned-snitch nodded at the woman. “Alan Harding, meet Special Agent Hannah Adler with the DEA. She’ll keep an eye on you for as long as needed.”

“Seriously?” Alan swallowed hard. Adler’s formfitting charcoal-gray suit caressed her luscious curves in all the right places. Her tight ponytail surely hurt her poor scalp, but the fiery red enhanced her copper-brown eyes against her pale, freckled skin. The scowl scrunching her nose and forehead aged her past her thirty-odd years, but this short slip of a woman didn’t look as though she could fight her way out of a paper bag, let alone kick an assassin’s ass.

“Yes, seriously.” Agent Adler crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there a problem?”

Alan grinned. “No, I’m just shocked. I expected Fischer to assign a big, burly man to babysit me, but I get a pretty lady like you. No offense, of course.”

Bristol groaned and rubbed the bridge between his eyes.

She pursed her lips so tight her cheeks hollowed. Then she shrugged, the lines around her mouth fading. “No offense taken. I may be of shorter stature than most of the female agents at the Denver office, but I have one thing they don’t. Would you like me to show you?”

“Hold on.” Bristol moved the plush leather chair behind her out of the way. His lips twitched as though he struggled not to grin.

Alan frowned at him before he smirked back at Adler. “Sure, tell me what you got.” He tossed his jacket on the other chair and spread his arms wide. Would she brag about her extensive college pedigree, political connections, or family money—whichever she might have?

A sassy, manipulative smile crossed her face. Shit. Had he screwed up? She suddenly grabbed his arm and twisted it—hard. Pressure jolted through his shoulder. His stomach somersaulted. Air whooshed around him as he flipped over her shoulder and hit the hardwood floor. Pain blasted down his spine. Ow! Fuck. Spots danced in his eyes. The little vixen straddled him and rammed her knees against his armpits. Air pounded through his lungs and escaped in sharp gasps. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision.

Adler flashed a grin. “I hold a black belt in jujitsu. Should I show you another signature move designed to take down most men twice my size?”

“Uh, no.” He shifted his arms and shoulders, but the pressure from her knees increased. Damn it. Where was his leverage? “No, it’s all right.” Though you could strip naked and slide down a little, he bit back that sexist comment. She’d probably ram her leg between his thighs.

“Good boy.” Adler patted his cheek before she popped up and offered him her hand.

He took it and hauled himself to his feet.

“Call me Hannah. I can be your friend but never forget that I’m also your bodyguard, your babysitter, and the hard-ass who will constantly monitor your work, so I can report your progress to my superiors.” She straightened her suit jacket. “My main objective is the information you gather, but my top priority is your and your son’s safety. Mess with me, however, and I’ll serve your ass to you on a silver platter. Got that, Alan?”

“Yes, ma’am. Hannah,” he added as she narrowed her eyes.

Alan turned to Bristol. “Did she put you flat on your ass when you guys first met?”

Bristol laughed and returned the chair to its rightful place. “Oh, no. I know better than to insult a woman. Lieutenant Ribic learned the hard way.” He swished his arm toward the sofa as he sat in the chair. The overhead light gleamed off the diamond studs in his ears and added a sheen to his dark, slicked-back hair. Even the faint gray at his temples shone silver.

Hannah reclaimed her seat and clasped her hands together in her lap. As Alan sat beside her, almost close enough to bump knees, she stiffened and drew back her shoulders.

He scooted away and bit his cheek to keep from frowning as she relaxed a little.

“Thank you for doing this, Al. You’re the only one I trust around here.” Bristol leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “We’ve argued about my business many times, but I swear, this is the last thing I’ll ask of you. I’m grateful you’ve stuck around this long when most decent men would’ve fled.”

You’re welcome, asshole, but I’m not so decent anymore. Alan forced out a long breath.

Had he never met Bristol sixteen years earlier, would his life be all hunky-dory, full of sunshine and rainbows? Bah. He’d still have a convict brother and a scheming ex-wife, though the latter had recently passed on. How much more guilt and obligation could he stand?

“Have you figured out what you need to do?” Hannah asked, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah. I’ve racked my brain for a game plan since I met with Agent Fischer.” He tunneled his hand through his hair, and a few dark locks fell back over his eyes. “What you want is decryption anti-firewall search software with built-in diversion and self-termination procedures. In layman’s terms, I need to write a program that will infiltrate Onyx’s encrypted server, download bits of data, and route the data back to me without anyone noticing. That’s going to be difficult, to put it mildly.”

Though Alan dreaded the complicated work ahead, he also reveled in the chance to write code again. At Denver Alerts Plus—also known as DAP—his manager relegated him to testing firewalls for weak spots and monitoring networked computers for security threats and unauthorized users. Talk about boring with a capital B. Would this bit of excitement finally give him the kick he needed to look for something better suited to his skills? Not that it mattered if he didn’t live to see the new year.

He rubbed the back of his tight neck. “After I write the program, install it, and retrieve the information, and if some Onyx gangbanger doesn’t kill me first, I’ll have to go through the data. Hopefully, it’ll be in English, not code. Either way, you want me to find a few needles in a zillion haystacks.”

“You said you could hack the system.”

Alan scoffed at Bristol. “I can, but I’m not a professional hacker. I’ll need a couple of weeks, maybe a month, to create and then test the program. Who knows how long it will take me to go over the data?”

Hannah sighed and crossed her legs. “Agent Fischer and I need to know who the key players are, how they run the business from the uppermost levels, and where to find them. We need contracts, dates, times, amount of money spent and received, quantity and quality of drugs produced, anything and everything to put these so-called untouchable monsters away for life.”

If only it were that easy.

The mysterious kingpin, Z, ruled with an iron fist, as did the generals who controlled the territories—the five states—under his command.

How did Hannah expect to take down such a large, well-oiled machine? Had she ever gone up against someone as brutal as the Scorpion—the general who controlled Kondorro, the main set in Colorado? If she thought that bastard was anything like Bristol, she had a thing or two to learn. Hell, she probably had no idea how coldhearted Bristol could be.

Alan grasped his upset stomach and leaned back. Damn his nerves.

The Scorpion had appointed over a dozen captains to rule the smaller sets in his domain. Bristol, under his criminal alias, had served the Capularia set as captain for the last seven years and as an advisor and second-in-command before that.

Bristol cleared his throat. “Z rules his drug empire from Las Vegas. I know a few low-rank thugs and bodyguards who work specifically for him, not for the Nevada general or any of the general’s captains.” He straightened and met Alan’s gaze. “You’ll have whatever you need and don’t worry about dying. I won’t let anything happen to you or Danny.”

Alan swallowed hard. Taking down Onyx meant shit to him if someone hurt his son. “What about you, Hannah? Are you sure you’re up for the task?”

“I want this over with. Don’t you?”

“Hell, yes. I want them burned to the ground. I just wish my buddy here would tell me why he betrayed his comrades-in-arms.” He shot Bristol a scowl as the man snapped on his poker face. After everything Bristol had told him over the years, why the hell couldn’t he tell him about this?

“Have you resolved the issue with your work schedule, Alan?” Hannah tilted her head. “Are the living arrangements taken care of?”

“Sort of.” He blew out a shaky breath and eyed the glass decanter of whiskey on the buffet table. “My manager was pissed, but he agreed to let me take my vacation time since I have a month saved up.”

She tapped her foot. “Just a month?”

“I know it’s not enough, but I’ll try to get my normal work schedule cut down when I go back. Tomorrow is the official start of my vacation.” Too bad he couldn’t enjoy it.

Why had Agent Fischer assigned Hannah to watch him a day early? Wasn’t that a waste of resources and money? “About the other thing...my family wouldn’t consider it a big deal if Fischer had assigned a man, but I’m sure they’ll flip out when they learn a young woman has moved in with me.”

“Flip out how much? I don’t want them to affect your concentration on the job.” She rested her arm on the back of the sofa, and her jacket splayed wide over her white V-neck blouse.

His cheeks heated, surely flaring red. The sexy agent was all the distraction he needed. As Bristol cleared his throat, Alan jolted upright from his slouch so fast his sore back muscles pulled. Fuck. Bristol stroked his damn goatee, as he always did when he sized up a situation.

Get your head out of the gutter. Alan shifted his legs. “I always keep the guest room ready for unexpected visitors, but we need a believable story. My son is only nine years old, and I’ve never brought home a woman before.”

The few girlfriends he’d had since his divorce he kept at a distance. What else could he do—give his son hope for a mother figure? Give some woman the power to crush what remained of his tattered heart? Mason and Benji had each found a great woman, but that didn’t mean he ever would. Better he kept things simple and stuck to no-strings-attached sex.

Hannah slapped her knees. “Here’s our story—we work together at Denver Alerts Plus, my apartment caught fire after an accident in the kitchen, and you offered your guest room until I can get back on my feet. You’ll come across as a nice guy who helped a coworker and friend in time of need. Your family should appreciate that.”

He laughed, choking a little. “You don’t know my family. My brothers will rag me like they’re idiot frat boys. Don’t get me wrong, Mason and Benji are good guys, but dear God, they have dirty mouths.” His throat tightened. The burgundy-painted walls threatened to close around him if the sofa didn’t swallow him first. He strode across the room, needing space to stretch his legs. Massive bookshelves lined the walls with old, worn hardbacks Bristol never read—Alan had asked. The gorgeous condo doubled as Capularia Headquarters and Bristol’s home, but it might as well be a ritzy hotel suite for the lack of personal touch put into it.

Alan returned and faced the agent. “Mason’s fiancée and Ben’s wife will probably want to have lunch with you. My mom will either drag you from the apartment by your hair or drive us to the nearest wedding chapel.”

Hannah’s mouth curved in a quick smile before she thinned her lips back into a straight line. “What about your son?”

“Danny’s never lived with a woman unless you count when he visits his grandma over the summer. I’m not sure how he’ll react to you.”

“We’ll deal with it when the time comes, but don’t worry about your brothers. I have more than enough experience in handling arrogant men. We should go. It’s late.”

“Do you want to ride with me, or follow?” As she stood and bent over to grab her purse from the floor, Alan bit back a groan. The fabric of her slacks cupped her sweet ass and highlighted the crevice between her cheeks.

“I have my own car.”

Thank God. He had to get this urge under control before he got home, but how he planned to accomplish that little miracle was anyone’s guess.

Hannah shook Bristol’s hand in farewell and headed across the office toward the exit, as though to give the men some privacy.

As they shook hands, Bristol drew Alan in for a brief, hard hug. “Behave, Al.”

Alan’s gut clenched at the whispered warning. Now he wanted the special agent even more, but he would never take advantage of her. Bristol was right. He should keep his hands to himself. If she wanted to play, though, who was he to stop her?

“Sorry, man. No promises.” He clapped Bristol on the shoulder and left.

Chapter Two

“Make yourself at home.” Alan opened the guest room door and stepped back into the hall.

“Thanks.” Hannah hurried in and dropped her purse, computer satchel, and heavy travel bag on the full-sized mattress. Finally. Who knew paperwork and clothes could weigh so much? Alan had offered to help her back in the parking lot, but she wasn’t a little lady in need of a big man’s arms. Didn’t he get that memo? “This place is cleaner than I expected.” Whoops! Why did that slip out?

He laughed a little and leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m a neat freak, so you won’t often find food wrappers on the counter or clothes all over the floor. Danny’s room is a disaster zone, but he cleans up after himself in the rest of the apartment.” As she arched her eyebrow, he reddened. “Well, I clean up after him.”

“That sounds about right.” She rested her hands on her hips. “I appreciate you letting me stay here. The work you’re going to do is of crucial importance, so it’s in your best interest to have someone watching your back sooner rather than later.”

He raised his hand. “Save it. Agent Fischer already pitched that speech. You’re not what I expected, but I’m glad I’m not showing your boss into this room. The man’s a prick.”

She smiled, shrugging. “He is, sometimes. For the record, he wouldn’t have arrested you or withdrawn your pardon had you refused to write the software program. We need Mr. Rieger’s support and intel, and I’m sure he would’ve clammed up had Ron reneged on the deal.”

Bristol Rieger had dropped Alan’s name as one of the few people he wanted the feds to pardon for their crimes.

“I figured as much, but I couldn’t risk it. Danny needs me.”

She nodded and turned to the nearest window. After pulling up the plastic mini-blinds, she flicked the lock and moved the sturdy window up and down before tapping the glass panes to verify its strength and thickness. The crowded parking lot spread beyond it with several bright streetlights pushing back the shadows. She examined the other window on the adjacent wall and inspected the side yard and neighboring tenant building as best she could.

“The windows are in good shape, but I need to check all of them sometime tonight.”

“Sure. Do what you gotta do.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops as a loud knock echoed outside the room. “Speak of the devil. That’s probably Benji and Danny.”

She followed him down the hall to the front door. “Wait.” She pushed past him and checked out the peephole. A redheaded man in a dark jacket and a child bundled in a coat so puffy she could barely see his face waited on the second-story landing. Was this Benjamin Starwell, Alan’s ex-wife’s brother? She’d filed a background check on Alan’s family members and close friends, but the photos in her files showed his former brother-in-law with a stubby jaw and short hair. This guy rocked a thick beard with red waves reaching his chin. His eyes were the same, though. She stepped aside and nodded. “Okay. All clear.”

Alan shook his head and opened the door.

The boy dashed in along with a blast of nippy autumn air. “What took so long, Dad? I’m freezing.” He shivered and bounced as though he were on a pogo stick.

“Nice to see you too.” Alan grinned at him as the other man entered. “Thanks for watching him, Ben. I hope he wasn’t any trouble.” He shut the door behind him.

“Nah, it’s all good. Belle and I love having him over, and he’s a big help with the baby.” Benji dropped Danny’s backpack on the sofa that divided the living room from the dining area and rubbed his bare hands together. His gaze landed on Hannah. “You have a guest?”

Danny yanked off his fuzzy hat and beamed at her with a lopsided grin and huge jade-green eyes the same shade as Alan’s.

“This is Hannah Adler. We work together in the tech department at DAP.”

“Hi, it’s great to meet you.” Hannah pumped the man’s hand, forcing a smile. “Alan’s letting me stay here for a while.”

“Oh?” Benji’s bushy eyebrows sprang up like mini mountains.

“You won’t believe what happened to her. Tell him the story, Hannah.” Alan flicked his hand at her and continued before she could gather her words. “Last weekend, she was frying some pork chops and somehow caught the skillet on fire. The flames jumped to an oven mitt, lit the curtains ablaze, and raced across the wall. She got the fire out, but the fire department won’t let her live there until the landlord installs new drywall and cleans up the place.”

Hannah’s mouth fell open, but she snapped it up as Benji laughed. She scowled at her client. How the hell did Alan come up with all that?

“Anyway, she’s already spent a few days in a bug-infested motel room since her rental insurance is crap, so I offered my spare room.” He rubbed his nape before hugging his son close with one arm. “What are friends for, right?”

“This is gonna be so much fun! No one has stayed with us since Uncle Mason.” Danny jumped and clapped. “Do you like games, Hannah? We can play with my toy cars.”

“Danny, show some respect.” Alan rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “She’s Ms. Adler to you, and she’s not here to entertain you.”

The boy pouted and dropped his head.