Free Kept by Jami Alden

father—and their client—Jerry Kramer, in jail, didn’t sit well with some of Gemini’s existing and potential clients. Derek, Ethan, and Danny agreed that while publicity was good for their security and investigation business, notoriety wasn’t. So Ethan was keeping a low profile these days, working mainly from the office or doing legwork from home. Not that the bastard minded, seeing as it gave him time to indulge in his latest obsession: Toni Crawford.
    With Ethan still effectively benched back here in the office and Danny in charge of an ongoing corporate job, Derek knew it was up to him to impress whomever their new client was with the services Gemini provided. “So, who is it?” Derek prodded.
    “Harold Van Weldt. Chairman and CEO of Van Weldt Jeweler. He wants us to find out who’s leaking company information to the press and to provide personal security to select family members, namely his niece, Alyssa Miles.”
    “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The words wereout of Derek’s mouth before the internal editor could call them back. All eyes locked on him, everyone in the room surprised by his outburst. Ethan studied him closely, and Derek felt the uncomfortable prickle of his twin trying to probe his brain.
    “Is there a problem?” Danny’s voice was low, controlled, lined with cold steel.
    Derek focused his attention on his older brother. Most of the time he didn’t believe in any of that twin-bond bullcrap, but every once in a while something happened between him and Ethan, a transfer of knowledge that couldn’t be explained any other way. Maybe if he avoided Ethan’s curious stare, Derek could drop the equivalent of a mental invisibility cloak over his brain. He hadn’t told anyone about the night he’d spent with Alyssa Miles, and the last thing he wanted was for his twin to somehow ferret out what had gone on.
    “No, no problem,” Derek replied, covering his earlier outburst with a flat, emotionless tone. “But are they really the type of client Gemini wants to cultivate?”
    “Do you have any clue who these people are?” Danny asked.
    “It would be hard not to,” Derek said. The night he’d met Alyssa he’d had no idea who she was, no idea she was anything more than another trust-fund baby, flitting from one society event to another.
    But that had changed the second he’d turned on CNN the following morning. He’d already had the argument with himself about whether or not he was going to dig up any more information on the heiress Alyssa Miles. In the end he’d come down definitely in the “not” column. What purpose would it serve? Even if she did want to see him again, she wasn’t his type, and he doubted he was hers. They had nothing in common other than incredible physical chemistry, and until three weeks ago, Derek hadn’t used that as acompelling reason for a relationship since he’d been too young and horny to know any better.
    All the more reason to relegate Alyssa Miles and their one hot night to the memory banks, never to be repeated. He already knew everything he needed or wanted to know about her. There was no point cyberstalking a woman just because she made his dick hard.
    That morning he had flipped on the TV in his kitchen, having no clue he was in for the shock of his life. There on the screen was a picture of Alyssa, with the caption CELEBRITY HEIRESS’S FATHER DIES IN APPARENT MURDER-SUICIDE .
    The anchor had given a quick recap of the life and death of Oscar Van Weldt but spent the majority of the time talking about Alyssa Miles and her escapades. Hard-core partying when she was barely out of diapers? Check. Nude photos of her “accidentally” leaked to the press by a boyfriend? Check. A stint in rehab for a coke and pill problem that nearly killed her? Check. Alyssa Miles had hit all the highlights of a young Hollywood starlet.
    The last woman in the world Derek wanted to get messed up with.
    For the first few days after the murder, he’d