Fiona pulls her cell phone from her back pocket. She scrolls through her list of contacts and pushes a button. I can hear the phone ringing.
“Hey, Steve,” she says after a moment in a low, seductive voice. “Yes, it’s me. I have a client being harassed by a group of men in a private group.”
She listens for a few minutes.
“No, I don’t think we want to close them down yet. I was wondering what I’d need to do to get you to let us poke around the group and their chats?”
She’s quiet a moment.
“I think that’s doable. I’m in Montana for the weekend. I should be home Tuesday night. Would that work?”
She listens.
Fiona looks at me. “The name of the group is the Stanford Octagon.”
She makes a motion to Jim for a pen and something to write on.
“Okay, see you Tuesday. Make sure you bring the toys.”
She disconnects the call and looks at me. “My friend is head of security for PeopleMover, and we’re both into a bit of kink. It works well both ways for us.”
I seem to be the only one surprised by this, so obviously I’m the only one who didn’t know.
She hands Gage the passwords. “We need to get in before they realize the group’s been breached. Steve thinks they have a tertiary group that’s even smaller and darker.”
Gage opens the group and begins to scroll.
“Are you able to capture all of this?” Jim asks.
“Yes, I’m copying as we go,” Gage responds.
“Great. We’ll need copies of all the linked video if we can get them before they shut those down.”
“They won’t know you’re here,” Fiona says.
“But they will, and they’ll shut down.”
“The pass I gave you should be invisible unless you announce yourself. But before you get too excited, the password only works for this group.”
“This is all we’re looking for?” Gage asks as he works his way through the pages.
I pull my phone out and begin searching the members of the group on the Stanford alumni page, writing down what they’re doing and where they’re working. I stop short when I come to Tomas Vigil’s name. “That can’t be,” I mutter.
“What?” Jim looks at me, alarmed.
I show him what’s on my phone, and he looks at me with his brow raised.
“This says Tomas is working in internet security,” I report. “Though I’ve never heard of this company… He could be the person behind at least some of our problems.”
That evening, everyone is dressed in their finest western wear, and we have a fantastic time enjoying Molly’s feast. I’m sure I’ve gained fifty pounds from all the fabulous food I’ve consumed. I’m stuffed.
Then Molly and her brothers pull out their fiddles for a good, old fashioned hoedown.
What a blast.
Molly’s helpers teach us to line dance, and it’s the first time all day that I’m able to put the mess with the Stanford Octagon out of my head.
As the evening winds down, Landon gets up on his crutches to dance with me—mostly just swaying back and forth.
“Thank you.” I kiss him softly on the lips.
“It’s you I should be thanking.”
The crowd begins to dissipate. The poker games start tomorrow, and they’re throwing relentless shade at each other, but it’s all in fun. I like Landon’s friends.
“Shall we go upstairs? I think you might need some therapy.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 33
Landon
Waking up with Tinsley in my arms feels right. I know the last few days have been trying for her. Finding out people you know and might have considered friends have gone out of their way to belittle you and your accomplishments is a tough nut to swallow.
Tinsley. She’s everything I never thought I’d find. Perfect in every way. But what I find most attractive is how her brain works. She’s more than smart. She’s brilliant, and seeing her move intuitively through the Java development to build our new software has been jaw-dropping.
The fact that she shares my bed makes me the luckiest man alive.
I hurt her, and I know she doesn’t fully trust me yet, but when we return to San Francisco, I want her to move in with me—and not because of the security she needs, but because I sleep better with her cuddled up beside me. We love each other, and I know together we can get through anything.
She’s so peaceful as she sleeps. She nuzzles in close, and that always seems to calm me—even when my life is spinning out of control. I think I do the same for her. Or at least I want to. I’ll never disappear on her like I did again. It’s as if we’re different sides of a coin that took a while to find each other and stick together.
I watch as the sun comes up and washes over her. I pick up a pillow, trying to shade her face from the direct sunlight. We need to be better about closing the curtains so we can sleep in.
“Why are you moving so much?” she mumbles with her eyes closed.
“Sorry, babe.” I kiss her forehead.
She rolls on to her back and throws her arm over her eyes. “We forgot to shut the blackout blinds again last night.”
“I’m sorry.” I reach for her breast. “I was distracted by your beauty.”
She lifts her arm and gives me a side-eye. She has to feel my morning wood pressing against her hip. I palm her nipples to hardness before rolling them between my finger and thumb. Her body goes stiff as she gasps. I pull and twist.
“Do you need more therapy this morning?” she moans.
“I do,” I whisper as I bite her shoulder.
We spend the early morning having slow, leisurely sex as we
