Read Online Any Way You Want It by Maureen Smith - Free Book Online

alarm when she saw the gun clutched in Zandra’s hand.
    “Oh, my God, Zandra. Are you okay?”
    She jerked her head in a nod. “I just need a minute.”
    “Do you want me to call Rem—”
    “No,” Zandra said sharply. “Don’t call anyone. Just close the door.”
    Christine frowned, eyeing her worriedly. After another moment, she pulled the door shut behind her.
    Slowly, finger by finger, Zandra released her grip on the butt of the pistol, then set it down on her desk and took a step backward, then another, until her back hit the window.
    That was when the tremors began, starting deep in the pit of her stomach and spreading outward until she shook all over.
    Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around her midsection, bowed her head and wept for the mother she’d lost, and the innocence she could never reclaim.

Chapter Five
    R emy roared down West Grand Avenue astride a sleekly powerful MTT Turbine motorcycle, weaving through Monday morning traffic with a reckless aggression that would have made Zandra curse and shriek at him if she were riding shotgun.
    He grinned at the thought. He couldn’t wait to meet her for lunch that afternoon. With any luck, they could just skip the meal and feast on each other instead.
    At the next traffic light, he whipped the motorcycle around the corner and sped down a narrow street that ran through the warehouse jungles of Chicago’s manufacturing district, an area untouched by the gentrification efforts that had shined up the West Loop.
    As Remy reached a nondescript brick building perched at the end of the block, he slowed down and swung onto the ramp that led into the underground parking garage. Pulling up to the security gate, he lifted his helmet shield to have his retinas scanned.
    As the metal garage doors slid open, a smoky female voice intoned from the speaker panel, “Welcome back, Mr. Brand. You were missed.”
    “Thanks, Magna,” Remy drawled with a lazy smile. “Who needs Siri when we have you?”
    The simulated voice responded with warm laughter as Remy rumbled through to the parking garage. Swerving his motorcycle into his reserved spot, he silenced the ignition, removed his helmet and climbed off the bike.
    As he strode to the elevator, the camouflage-clad security guard pressed the call button for him and offered a deferential “Good morning, sir. Welcome home.”
    “Thanks, Erwin,” Remy said, clapping the man on the shoulder. “It’s good to be home.”
    Though I wouldn’t have minded another week in paradise with Zandra, just the two of us.
    Remy smiled to himself as he entered the elevator.
    Once the doors closed behind him, his thoughts shifted to the busy day that awaited him as head of Brand Security Solutions, a multimillion-dollar global corporation that provided executive protection and investigative services to government, military and corporate sector enterprises. His itinerary for today included a series of meetings and consultations that would hopefully result in new contracts.
    When he reached the top floor, his assistant was waiting for him. She had her Bluetooth headset in place and held a steaming cup of black coffee, which she handed to him as soon as he stepped off the elevator.
    In her late twenties, Mona Fay Yancy had dark hair that she always scraped back into a severe ponytail, square shoulders and wide childbearing hips, though she swore she’d yet to meet a man who could sweet-talk her into “birthing his melon-head babies.” She was a sassy Southern girl whose tough, no-nonsense demeanor would have made Remy’s tobacco-chewing, ball-busting BUD/S instructors gush with pride. She kept Remy on track, ran a tight ship and suffered no fools.
    “Good morning, boss. Nice to have you back.” She gave him one of her rare smiles, which faded the moment her eyes landed on his combat boots. “Good Lord, what are you wearing?”
    Remy grinned, sipping his coffee. “I took the Turbine today.”
    “Whatever for?” Mona demanded,