Chapter One
“One is never over-dressed or underdressed with a Little Black Dress.”
— Karl Lagerfeld
Harbor City, New York
Paulie’s Gym wasn’t a fancy exercise emporium with spinning classes, personal trainers, and TVs hanging from the ceiling. The men and handful of women punching the heavy bag or trading jabs in the ring didn’t care about those things. They came to work up a sweat, not gossip over the water cooler. No one cared that the smell was enough to knock a person on his ass, if his sparring partner’s right hook didn’t get him first.
Ignoring the sweat soaking through her black spandex tank top, Allegra “Ryder” Falcon balanced soft on her feet while people milled around outside the boxing ring. Her opponent had at least a hundred pounds on her, but she had something Cam Hardy didn’t. Iron-willed focus…and the never-ending need to prove herself.
Locked in on her opponent, Ryder bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting for his attention to waver. All she needed was half a second to land a quick jab or high kick—
The gym door opened—
Cam’s eyes shifted—
Bam! Ryder’s right leg landed with a solid thump against his solar plexus.
Air wheezed out of his lungs like a fast deflating balloon.
She followed up with a quick punching combination and a roundhouse kick before grabbing his arm, spinning into position, and flipping him over her back.
He landed with enough force to make the ring’s elevated floor bounce. Used to Ryder’s weekly balls-to-the-wall sparring workouts, the other gym-goers barely glanced up from their own activities.
“Damn it Ryder,” Cam mumbled around his mouth guard. “This is the last time I spar with you. The plan was to go easy on each other. Tony’s right. You don’t play well with others.”
“You say that every time we spar, but you’re still here twice a week without fail.” She laughed and helped him up off the floor, which took considerably more effort than tossing him. “Man, have you gained weight?”
“Only muscle.” He flexed his thick biceps as he shucked off the cushioned helmet, then winked one of his ice-blue eyes at her. “The ladies love it.”
“Yeah, for the one night they get with you before you’ve moved on to the next unsuspecting sap.” Cam’s dating history was as long and sordid as a pornified version of War and Peace. If she didn’t love him so much—like a second cousin twice removed—she’d punch even harder in the ring.
“Like you’re any different. When was the last time I saw you with the same guy twice?”
That hit her right between the eyes. If Cam’s fists connected as well as his words, she would have been the one on her ass. “I don’t think my dates number anywhere near yours.” She shrugged off the all-too-familiar ache. “Anyway, I have my reasons.”
She had a type. Overly possessive, muscle-bound losers with a shaky grasp on employment and a too-tight grip on her. Then there was Heath. She shivered. He’d turned out to be even worse.
“Hey, the ladies enjoy themselves, and I never make any promises I can’t keep.” Cam put a foot on the ring’s bottom rope and lifted the top one. “Speaking of which, how about you put in a good word about me with Drea?”
“Not in a million years.” She slipped through the opening and stalked toward the locker room, leaving Cam and her bad memories behind her.
“How come?”
“One, she would eat you for breakfast. And two, I like Drea.”
“You like me.” Again, he winked.
How many girls had melted under Cam’s patented charm offensive? Way more than she ever wanted to know about. “Not enough to sell out one of my best friends, pretty boy.”
He laid his palm against his chest and mimed a faint. “You’re killing me here.”
“There’s not a jury who would convict me.” She pushed open the women’s locker room’s swinging door. “Especially since, with your dating history, at least half the jury would be made up of your ex-girlfriends.”
God love the man, Cam was in for a world of hurt when he finally did find someone he wanted to be with for the long-term. Dude would not have any idea what to do. She couldn’t wait to watch.
He reached out and gave her a noogie before she could twist away. “Twenty-five is too young for you to be that damn cynical, Ryder girl. You know no woman is an island, not even you.”
She shoved his hand away and stuck her tongue out. “So says the twenty-nine-year-old commitment phobe.”
“Hey, we’re not talking about me, here.” There went that million-watt grin again.
“Cam, we’re always talking about you.” She patted his cheek. “And you love it.”
The locker room door slammed shut behind her, and she peeled off her black workout clothes while ignoring the little voice reminding her of her own romantic mishaps. Mishaps. Now that was putting it mildly. More like a nuclear-level, chain-reaction explosion that gave her a nasty case of radiation poisoning so severe she could use her heart as a nightlight. For the entire tri-state area.
Ryder popped the handle on her locker right in time to hear the first buzz from her cell phone. The office number for Maltese Security flashed on the screen. As always, work rescued her from events she’d rather leave locked in a grimy basement.
She pressed the talk button. “Hola, boss, what’s shaking?”
“I need you down at Dylan’s Department Store right away.” Tony Falcon, Maltese Security’s owner, CEO, worrier-in-chief, and her big brother, had never been one for small talk, which just made Ryder want to needle him all the more.
“Hello to you, too, big brother. I’m doing great today, thanks for asking.”
“Very funny. Dylan’s is our biggest client right now. We can’t afford for them to jump ship—not if I’m going to make payroll. I’m tied up on the Bowden case, and you’re the on
ly other one who’s dealt with George Dylan before. He’s quirky, but he likes you.”
Ryder rolled her eyes. “He likes my ass.” After their last visit to Dylan’s corporate headquarters, she was surprised she didn’t have drool soaking the back of her black trousers. Ewwww.
“Ugh, you’re my sister. Don’t go there.” Tony made a sound of disgust that reminded Ryder of her dog Kermit sucking the last bit of peanut butter from the roof of his mouth. “Here’s the deal, someone has their hand in the company till. They need us to go in and figure out who and get the money back as quietly and quickly as possible. They’re in the middle of a merger, and George is afraid if word leaks, the company’s stock will tank and the deal will blow up.”
Her pulse ratcheted up and she did a little jig. She was so in. “Sounds easy enough.”
“Oh yeah, I’m sure everything will go off without a hitch.” Sarcasm thickened her older brother’s tone. “Even though I can’t be there with you, I’ll walk you through it every step of the way.”
She slammed her locker door shut. “Tony, I have a degree in forensic accounting. You can barely balance your checkbook. I’m pretty sure I’ve got this.”
“You’re a funny girl, baby sister, but there’s a big difference between book smarts and street smarts. Anyway, you go rogue on this like the last big case you had and I’ll fire you faster than mom can dice a tomato.”
Fighting the urge to scream with frustration, she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. When she opened them a second later, the red haze had dissipated. “I grew up a cop’s kid, just like you. I’m not some naif from the Midwest fresh off the bus.” She paced in front of the lockers, already jonesing for another workout to blow off sibling-induced steam. “I can do this, Tony. Trust me.”
“It’s not that I don’t—”
“Stop being my big brother and be my boss. You hired me. Do you think I can do the job or not?”
He didn’t answer.
A lump the size of her Nonni’s olive oil collection formed in her throat. She counted to five. If her phone had picked this moment to lose its signal, she was going to drown it in the toilet. “You there?”
”Yeah, I’m here.” He sighed. ”Okay, it’s your case. Don’t make me regret this. But you go over the plan with me. And you stay in contact with me while you’re there.”