Page 33 of Wicked and Claimed

“We’re on it.”

Hunter ended the call with a grunt of a goodbye, leaving Nash alone once more with his swirling thoughts. He strode toward the bathroom for a much-needed, scalding-hot shower. If today was his last day off before the grim case started sucking up most of his time, he wanted to see Haisley.

They had some talking to do.

If she gave him a chilly reception, he wouldn’t be daunted. He’d simply drop in to her CSI online group as JasperThePrivateDick and engage her about theories. No doubt, she’d already started sifting through whatever information she could find. Besides, now that he’d be working this case, might as well start piecing together what information he could.

As the pounding stream rinsed away the residue of his earlier workout, Nash steeled his resolve. One way or another, he would unravel the secrets behind the disappearances of these women while rekindling his connection with Haisley. He wouldn’t quit, wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t give up until everything was right.

And no offense to Hunter, but whatever rules Nash had to bend—or outright break—to make it happen… Well, like always, he’d do what needed to be done.

* * *

Haisley smoothed her hand over her sleek black skirt as she strode into the historic building in downtown Lafayette, hoping her nerves didn’t show. Today marked a fresh start for her, a chance to establish herself professionally in her hometown. Her new employer might deal in land acquisition, development, and maintenance, but their online presence was somewhere between old school and nonexistent. It needed a strategic overhaul and a fresh approach. She was determined to give it to them and up her own stock in the process.

The expansive lobby, a blend of old and new world charm, gleamed with polished marble and glass, providing an air of understated luxury. Haisley drew in a steadying breath and approached the curved reception desk where a stylishly dressed young woman offered her a warm smile.

“Good morning.”

“Hi, I’m Haisley Rowe.” She repositioned her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “I’m starting with Benedict Land Development today.”

The receptionist’s smile brightened. “Mr. Benedict is expecting you. Take the elevator to the fourth floor. I’ll call up there and let someone know you’re coming.”

“Thank you,” Haisley called back as she hustled to the elevator.

After the ding and the doors opened again, she stepped off. Another receptionist sitting behind a giant desk emblazoned with the company name in big, gold letters pressed the phone to her ear and jotted a message while waving her into a nearby chair.

Crossing one leg over the other, Haisley managed a tight smile as the butterflies dive-bombed her belly.

An imposing, broad-shouldered man in a tailored charcoal suit strode toward her, hand outstretched. “Ms. Rowe?”

When his gruff bark cracked through the quiet opulence of the lobby, she shot to her feet and plastered on her most confident smile. Despite the graying at his temples and the faint lines around his eyes, he carried himself with a robust vitality. Clearly, this man was a doer. If that was their corporate culture, she should fit right in.

“Mr. Benedict?” She shook his hand.

He gave her a cursory once-over, then nodded. “Welcome aboard. After our phone interviews, it’s good to meet you in person. Welcome to Benedict Land Development.”

“Thank you. It’s great to put a face with a name. I’m thrilled to be here—and back home in Louisiana.”

He sauntered past the reception desk and motioned her to follow before he turned toward a maze of workspaces. “Come with me. I’ll introduce you to a few key players and show you to your desk. The rest of the team can fill in the blanks as you get settled.”

Haisley fell into step beside him, her kitten heels clicking against the gleaming floors. Along the way, Mr. Benedict pointed out various workgroups. Each stopped to give her a polite smile before resuming their work. She did her best to commit their names and locations to memory.

“In that corner, next to the window, is your desk. You’ll have an assistant once we hire someone. I thought you might want to be part of the process.”

“I would. Thank you.”

“The rest of your team—Angela, Curtis, and Blake—is looking forward to your fresh perspective and the experience you gleaned in LA.”

The trio glanced up, offering tepid nods of acknowledgment. Clearly, she would need to earn their respect. She’d been there and done that when she’d first arrived in LA. She’d eventually win them over.

“Mila!” Mr. Benedict hollered as they veered down a hall lined with offices.

“You bellowed, husband?” A lilting feminine voice drew Haisley’s attention toward the open door of a nearby office.

A petite, polished woman about a dozen years the boss’s junior emerged with a warm smile, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. Dressed in a smart blazer and slim-cut trousers, Mila Benedict projected a friendly, effortless elegance.

“I’m showing Haisley the ropes.” Mr. Benedict’s intimidating edges softened as his wife sidled closer. “Mila, this is Haisley Rowe. Haisley, my wife, Mila.”

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