Page 29 of Reckless Devotion

“Mr. Walker?” The familiar voice calls out from high above, and I glance up to see my plant manager Simon traveling down the caged stairwell that leads to a network of escalated walkways high above the manufacturing floor. The ones I designed to reduce the travel time between different parts of the plant.

“I need to know where this container came from.” I point at the steel crate hanging in the air in front of me, and see the grey slashes of Simon’s brows pitch together when he exits the stairwell and starts to lumber over with his uneven gait.

“Sacha?” Simon wastes no time calling up to the middle-aged lady in the driver’s seat. “Which warehouse did this come from?”

The woman frowns and leans forward to snatch a clipboard off the floor of the cap, pulling her spectacles down from the top of her head to squint at it.

“Warehouse eleven!” she calls back after a few seconds.

“What is it?” Pepper cuts in at my side, her arms folded across her chest.

I suck in a heated breath, nostrils flaring as flames of fury begin to lick at the inside of my lungs. I take great care to steady the shake in my hand when I point at the serial number on the shipping container. The same number that’s been part of the list burned into my brain for weeks.

“That is one of the shipments that went missing.”

Grim chocolate eyes meet mine, a look of plain comprehension written bare for anyone to see. “This goes way deeper than we thought, doesn’t it?”

I steeple my spine, trapping hold of the heat raging warfare in my chest, honing it into a weapon. Using it as fuel for my already unwavering resolve.

“Yes.”

Chapter 12

Rosie:Did you see the news?

Pepper:Incognito: 1, Investment Banker: 0.

Rosie:Amen, sister.

PEPPER

“That container does not leave the plant, understood?” Chase’s face is cold, unyielding stone as he barks into the phone and hangs up.

The tension hangs thick in the back of the town car and barely a word has been said since we left the manufacturing plant. I’ve never seen him this way, he practically vibrates with fury, every thick muscle clinging tightly together.

“It’s a clever plan, even you have to admit.” I tip my head as we cross the Manhattan Bridge at a crawl, the glittering buildings bathed in golden midday sun. Not a cloud exists in the sky above the city, and it reminds me of long summers lying in hazelnut orchards with a much younger Sunny.

Chase says nothing, his elbow wedged on the window ledge, a palm slowly dragging up and down his carved jaw, stubble scratching quietly. For the first time, I feel for him a little. Only a smidge. I can tell he’s shaken by this new development, and in part, that shows he cares. Or perhaps he is just worried about the PR shitstorm he’s been weathering becoming worse the longer this thing goes on.

I do what I always do when I’m at a loose end, and babble away nonsensically. “I mean, what better way to steal shipments than to re-route them within your own system? It’s genius really—”

“Yes,thank you, Pepper. I’ve got the picture,” he gripes, shooting tempestuous eyes my way. He jams his finger down on a small button in his armrest, and speaks. “Norman, we’re dropping Miss Quinn off at her apartment and then heading straight to the office.”

“Understood, sir,” a faceless voice reports back through a hidden speaker.

“I’ll have Norman come back and take you to the hospital with Mr. Clay’s stuff,” Chase follows up to me this time instead.

I blink at him, heat bubbling up beneath my skin. “No you willnot!You’re the one that nearly killed him off, you’re not lumbering me with all the life admin that goes with.”

“Pepper,” he spits out with apparent impatience lining my name, “I need to go back to the office and start handling this. I need to contact every plant and have them check—”

“I’m pretty sure that one of the perks of being you, is that you get to delegate.” I fold my arms over my chest. I’m a Taurus, and he’s the enemy. Does hereallythink he can match my obstinance?

“Iamdelegating—to you,” he drawls, that ever-lurking arrogance he carries bleeding through his stormy demeanor.

I scoff, unable to believe that just moments ago, I was actually feeling sorry for this ass. “I know everyone else in your life bows and scrapes at your feet like you’re some messiah, but I’m not intimidated by you, and you arenotthe boss of me.” The last part comes out sounding humiliatingly immature, but I grit my teeth and bunker down in my own stubbornness.

“Strong words for someone who can’t even handle a house spider.”