“You can use the bedroom next door to dress,” Rourke informed Sophie as he handed her one of his T-shirts and some gray sweats. “It’s where you’ll be sleeping tonight anyway.”
Rourke informed, not asked.
As if Sophie didn’t have a mind or will of her own.
Which she still did, didn’t she?
Sophie mulled that over while she was pulling on the overlarge T-shirt and sweats, the latter having to be rolled up at the ankles and over at the waist.
There was no doubting that Rourke’s lovemaking drove her out of her mind with pleasure, but Sophie hoped she had managed to hold on to her self-determination. And it was telling her—loudly—that she needed to put distance between herself and Rourke if she wanted to maintain what was left of her sanity.
“I’m not staying here,” she informed him the moment she entered the sitting room enveloped from neck to ankle in the T-shirt and sweats. “Tonight or any other night.”
Rourke shrugged. “So you intend to return to your own apartment where Henderson, or another of Tillman’s men, can easily get to you?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sophie snapped.
“If you’re thinking of booking yourself into a hotel, then you’ll be just as vulnerable there, if not more so, than in your own apartment.”
Sophie frowned at the way Rourke’s gaze no longer met hers. It was all the more noticeable because he had been so adamant earlier that she would look at him when she spoke to him.
What was he trying to hide by avoiding her gaze?
Sophie intended to find out. “What do you mean, more so…?” she prompted slowly.
His gave a dismissive shrug. “Haydn could probably hack into the hotel security cameras, but they wouldn’t be focused on you in the same way the cameras in your apartment building are.”
Her eyes widened. “You have security cameras in my apartment building? Inside my apartment?”
“You’re starting to sound like August now. She totally freaked out at Logan when she learned the apartment she shared with Jenna had Steele Protectors security cameras inside and outside the building.”
“I’m freaking out too!”
“There are no cameras inside your apartment,” Rourke assured. “But Haydn monitors the homes and safety of all Steele Protectors personnel.”
“How long has he been doing that in my case?” Sophie didn’t invite many of her dates back to her apartment, even for a coffee. But she certainly didn’t like the thought of Haydn monitoring who went in and out of her apartment, and when.
“From the day you came to work for us.” Which begged the question, Rourke realized, why hadn’t Haydn reported seeing Tillman visiting Sophie’s apartment the previous week? “We don’t always deal with nice people, and our employees need to be protected from the ones who aren’t.”
“By placing cameras in—outside, their homes?” she corrected as he frowned.
Rourke’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea how many security cameras there are in this country, logging information that might be useful in regard to antiterrorism? It’s in the thousands, Sophie, not hundreds.”
“Which is no reason for you and your brothers to add to that number.” She glared. “And those other cameras are for national security not—not spying on innocent individuals who have no idea they’re being watched.”
He snorted his skepticism. “The government’s cameras don’t discriminate, which means the majority of those are innocent people going about their everyday lives, completely unaware they’re being watched and monitored.”
“In the same way you’ve been monitoring me?” Sophie challenged.
“Not me personally.”
“Okay, your company has been monitoring me!” Her voice rose angrily.
Rourke could see this conversation was getting away from them, from him, and as such, he needed to shut it down. Now. Before Sophie was reduced to hurling insults at him they would both find unforgiveable. “Wherever it is you decide to stay tonight, I’m going to be right there with you. Which was why I suggested you stay here.”
“You didn’t suggest anything. You told me how it was going to be and just expected me to fall in line.” Her eyes glittered with temper. “I’m going home to my apartment, Rourke, and you can tell Haydn to shut down and remove his cameras from there immediately, or I’ll report this invasion of privacy to the police.”
“I wouldn’t advise you to do that—”
“You seriously think I’m going to take advice from any of you, after you’ve admitted you’ve been spying on me and whoever might have visited my apartment during the past three years?”
Rourke’s lids narrowed. “Do you have something to hide?”
“No, I just don’t appreciate this invasion of my privacy.”
“It’s for your protection.”
She gave him a scathing glance. “I’m sure all stalkers explain their behavior with similar excuses.”
His jaw tightened. “No one is stalking you, Sophie. It’s standard practice for us to protect our employees—”
Sophie stepped forward and thrust her face up toward his. “Which I didn’t ask for and wasn’t informed about. So get those cameras out of there, or I will report it.”
“And if Tillman comes back?”
“Your cameras don’t seem to have done me a lot of good the first time he visited my apartment.”
No, they hadn’t, and it was something Rourke definitely intended taking up with Haydn, sooner rather than later. “You’re being stubborn and unreasonable—”
“Pot, kettle,” she came back scornfully, turning away to pick up her clutch bag, which looked slightly ridiculous when she was wearing Rourke’s overlarge clothing. “I’m going to get a cab home. I don’t advise that you follow me.”
“I told you I intend being wherever you are—”
“And I’ve just told you that I’ve had enough of your interference for one day.” Her eyes flashed. “I’ve more than had enough of you for today too. Possibly for a lifetime!” she added vehemently before stalking out into the hallway.
Rourke heard the doors of the lift open and then its descent a few seconds later.
He instantly took out his cell phone and put a call through to Hailey. As all the brothers were expected to attend Logan and August’s wedding today, Hailey was the one on call for Steele Protectors. In fact she had volunteered, Rourke recalled ruefully. He had a feeling Hailey was as averse to weddings as he was.
Just as Rourke knew Sophie was too angry to appreciate him following her right now, hence his instruction to Hailey to keep watch outside Sophie’s apartment building for the rest of the night.
Rourke needed to discuss this situation with Haydn before he went anywhere near Sophie again.
The anger burning inside Sophie gave her the impetus to flag down a passing cab and sit silent and brooding in the back of it on the drive home. But once she was inside her apartment, with the door locked and bolted behind her, she deflated like a punctured balloon. She had to force herself to go to her bathroom and shower before dressing in a pair of her own dark blue jeans and a blue sweater that matched the color of her eyes.
But once she returned to the sitting room, she couldn’t put off thinking about what had to have been the worst day of her life. Even more so than a week ago, when she had learned of her father having stolen money from Zachary Tillman. They might be tainted and ill-gotten gains, but nevertheless, they had still belonged to Zachary Tillman. A man whom Sophie believed was not averse to killing her if she didn’t get him the information he demanded.
The time she had spent at Rourke’s apartment was even more devastating. Oh, not the lovemaking, Sophie had enjoyed every moment of that. Even the spanking! That had been seriously hot.
But things were now so strained between the two of them, she doubted there was any way back for them to just be friends again. It had to be lovers or nothing, and, as she was now alone in her own apartment, it was obviously going to be nothing.
That had been her choice, Sophie reminded herself. Because she had refused Rourke’s offer to come with her.
Maybe so, but she had some pride left. Not much, but some.
Except what did she do now?
She’d refused any further help from Rourke, and Zachary Tillman wasn’t just going to go away. Not without the return of his money, and Sophie didn’t even know where to start looking for that.
Haydn was already looking for it, she reminded herself.
Yes, but Haydn was Rourke’s brother, and Sophie was trying to avoid him too, if possible.
Except Haydn might have the information Sophie needed.
Rourke knew that, damn him.
And why, exactly, was she having a conversation with herself?
Because there was no one else for her to reason this out with now she had walked away from Rourke, the rest of the Steele family, and the other friends she had at Steele Protectors. She’d had lots of friends, both male and female, when she was at university, but when she left so abruptly and never returned, over time, those friendships had lapsed.
The people Sophie was closest to now, apart from her father—who it seemed she wasn’t as close to as she had thought she was—were the other people who worked with her and the Steele family. Once they’d learned of the death of Sophie’s mother, Joanne and Simon Steele had taken her under their maternal and paternal wing. But this falling-out with Rourke made it impossible for her to talk to any of the Steele family about this situation.
She was going to have to—
Sophie came to a halt in front of the large window in her sitting room to stare down at the apartment building across the road from hers. She’d seen a movement in the shadows of the building, created by the street lamp across the road. Or at least, she had thought she—
There, she saw it again, the merest hint of someone—
Damn it. She easily recognized the person who stepped out of the shadows, making no effort to hide their presence from her or the fact they were obviously watching Sophie’s apartment.
“What the hell did you hit me for?” Haydn rubbed a hand across his face as he got back onto his feet after being knocked to the floor by a heavy fist to his jaw.
Both Rourke’s fists were still clenched at his sides. “For not having noted in your weekly security report that Zachary Tillman paid Sophie a visit at her apartment last week, accompanied by a couple of his henchmen.”
“On the contrary, when I sent out that weekly report, I noted a glitch of about fifteen minutes missing from the recording on Sophie’s apartment building,” Haydn defended as he took out his phone and scrolled down the screen. “But as everything looked normal after that, and Sophie didn’t report having any unwanted visitors, I didn’t take the matter any further. None of the brothers thought it important enough to follow up either, including you,” he reasoned. “Here.” Haydn held out his phone so Rourke could read the report his brother had brought up on the screen.
“I apologize,” Rourke muttered after quickly scanning the documents. “But I’m pretty sure Zachary Tillman paid Sophie a call during those missing fifteen minutes.”
Haydn nodded. “Which means someone who works for him disabled the camera for that amount of time.” He shrugged. “As I said, I noticed what I thought was a glitch. I had no idea at the time that there was any reason to panic over such a short window. Sophie didn’t report a problem, either,” he reminded.
Rourke drew in a deep and controlling breath. “That’s because she’s been trying to deal with the situation herself. I only found out she was being harassed today during the wedding reception when one of Tillman’s men turned up to remind her she only had a week left to get them the information about her father and the whereabouts and numbers of any bank accounts he’s connected to.”
“Speaking of which…” Haydn moved to sit in front of his open laptop, typing in a couple of instructions before turning the screen round to face Rourke. “A list of the bank accounts only Stephen Hammond is associated with.”
There were three private bank accounts with only Stephen Hammond named as the sole account holder. One was in England, the other two in the Cayman Islands.
The transactions out and payments in on the English account showed it was probably the one Hammond used every day to withdraw petty cash and pay his bills.
The total amount in the two accounts in the Caymans added up to just under five million pounds, with several withdrawals the previous week. Obviously, Hammond had used some of the money he’d embezzled to make his getaway.
But he hadn’t attempted to use a penny of it to remove his daughter from danger too.
Haydn took charge of the laptop again before, seconds later, turning it back round for Rourke to look at. “I’m pretty sure this is Stephen Hammond.”
Rourke stared at the image on the screen.
The previous week, Sophie had been threatened by her father’s now ex-employer, and then again today by one of his henchmen, both because Stephen Hammond had stolen money from his employer before disappearing.
And Rourke was now looking at a screen image of the bastard sunning himself somewhere on a fucking beach, a beautiful brunette at his side!
“The couple are booked into a hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Bradshaw,” Haydn added pointedly. “I have no idea of the woman’s true identity, but this man definitely fits the face recognition I have of Stephen Hammond.”
The image on the screen was of a middle-aged man lying on a lounger on a white sandy beach with a clear blue ocean behind him. A man Haydn sounded confident was Stephen Hammond.
The stunningly beautiful brunette was lying on the sun lounger beside his, intimately close, and both of them were drinking cocktails from frosted glasses decorated with fruit and little colored umbrellas.
Stephen Hammond was enjoying himself while his daughter, Sophie, was being threatened and harassed for her father’s crimes?
Rourke was going to kill the bastard!
“When?” he grated.
Haydn grimaced. “I’m streaming that live.”
Rourke’s brows rose. “He’s there now, happily enjoying getting a tan beside a woman obviously young enough to be his daughter, while his real daughter is in danger of being killed for the crimes he committed?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Where?”
“Grand Cayman.”
Then that was exactly where Rourke was going too.