The Mel Files

The Mel Files

Kim Bair

Facebook: thekimbair

Instagram: KimBair

Email: kimbair@proton.me

Website: kimbair.com

Copyright © Kim Schubert 2016

Cover Art: Cristal Designs

Other books by Kim Bair:

Dead Shifter Walking, The Succubus Executioner Book 1

Demigod Down, The Succubus Executioner Book 2

A Witch’s Fury, The Succubus Executioner Book 3

A Council of Betrayal, The Succubus Executioner Book 4

Death of a Succubus, The Succubus Executioner Book 5

Legacy of the Succubus, The Succubus Executioner Book 6

Creation of the Dual Shifter, Book 1

Andy’s Origin, Book 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Connect with me!

Chapter 1

Mel! Cameron bellowed from his office.

I stood, slipping my shoes back on. Even though I had opted for black, thong-style wedges, I still had a rub burn on the top of my foot. Scooping up my tablet from my dark oak desk, I cleared the short hallway, pushing into Cameron’s office. I leaned against the black doorframe, opening my note app.

And go, I instructed him, my stylus poised and ready.

Bradly chuckled. I raised an eyebrow, meeting his coffee colored eyes. He was relaxing in a modern black chair, an ankle braced on his knee, his hands laced on his stomach. Compared to the black and silver, stiff-lined, modern office Cameron had constructed, he was out of place, dressed in dark jeans and a worn blue t-shirt stretched across muscled shoulders. For the moment, he lacked his usual gun and shoulder holster.

I rolled my eyes at him. Just because I was happily married, that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the fine specimens of chiseled bodies that hung out at the office.

You are the only person who can give him orders, Bradly expanded.

It wasn’t an order, I started, debating, it was a— I searched for the right word. Bradly continued to laugh.

I turned to Cameron, giving him a mock bow. My deepest apologies, your regal highness. Please forgive your poor, humble servant for daring to speak inappropriately to you.

Cameron smirked at me, his sandy brown hair combed perfectly into place, light brown eyes flecked with espresso and currently amused. Unlike Bradly, he was dressed in a tailored black suit, custom made for him by an Italian designer.

It did sinful things to his ass.

You are forgiven. Now, I need you to pull all the billable hours for the Henderson account. We need to report our current findings to them. Second, we have a formal event that you need to attend tomorrow. Get a new outfit from Mimi’s.

I groaned, scribbling the notes down.

Bradly laughed again. Any other woman would leap at the chance to be dressed by Mimi.

Have you seen the shoes she makes me wear? I complained. The woman has exceptional taste, but the shoes...

They do great things for your legs, Cameron commented, hiding his amusement behind his steepled hands.

So does self-tanning. Why isn’t that enough? I countered.

Speaking of which—

Oh, shut it, I know the routine of how to dress like I belong in elevated society. With that I left, pulling the door partially shut again.

Bradly’s laughter followed me.

I have no idea why you put up with her mouth, I heard him comment to Cameron.

Cameron laughed, She’s happily married, not interested in me, and has lasted longer than any other assistant.

True, Bradly agreed.

I stopped listening. I didn’t give a crap about the reason they kept me around, I was just grateful my smart mouth and piss poor attitude hadn’t gotten me fired. There was a reason I changed jobs so often.

Here, at C&B Investigations, when I accidentally let an inappropriate comment slip, they just laughed.

Bradly and Cameron owned and ran the private security and investigative firm. While we weren’t very large, we were highly sought after. Both men refused to expand the business any further; they had a small handful of elite employees who worked the field.

The only piece of personal memorabilia in Cameron’s office was a framed, five-by-seven picture of him, Bradly, Deacon, Dennison and Juan dressed in military fatigues, with ample firepower strapped across their bodies. Not one was smiling. They stood there tall, proud, and confident in their skills.

No one mentioned what those were, but I had a vivid imagination. The cold, calculating gleam in each of their eyes said enough.

If things got too busy, they contracted out with additional investigators. Private security was never handed off.

Deacon strolled by my desk, a thick file in his hands.

Hello, pretty lady, he greeted, hitting me with his adorable, dimpled smile.

Deacon, I hate when you show your dimples to me, I groaned, holding my hand out for the file, fighting the urge to return his grin.

Most women love it. He sat his jeans-clad ass on my desk, lowering his already sexy voice, winking an emerald eye. A strand of dark blond hair fell over his tanned forehead.

Do you also give them a stack of work you have been hoarding? I raised my own chestnut eyebrow at him.

He waggled his eyebrows. No, the package I offer them is a little more attractive.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I quickly flipped through the file: notes, dates, and hours scribbled down along with file names of pictures he had uploaded onto the secure server. Like Bradly, he was dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt. Cameron was the only one who wore suits every day. I tried for a balance, with black dress pants and a purple top that had a small gemstone design on it.

I didn’t typically interact with our clients face to face, but when I needed to, it was always without warning. Ever had a pissed off spouse storming the halls? That was fun.

You working the gig tomorrow? he asked, picking at the bowl of hard candy on my desk.

Yep, did you get me the gun I asked for?

He laughed, No, that’s a little too much firepower for you.

I pouted, But it’s from Supernatural.

You do not need a Colt 1911 with a pearl grip handle.

You do not need an AK-47, yet we have three in the armory, I reminded him.

I will find a use for them.

My phone rang and I shoved Deacon off my desk before answering it. I had learned that the boys liked to try and make me laugh while I was talking with clients. It wasn’t very nice, but it had stopped once I started throwing things.

That’s me, the vision of professionalism. Even so, I didn’t trust them to be too close when I picked up.

C&B, this is Mel, I answered.

Hi, Mel, it’s Tiffany. Is Cameron in? his girlfriend asked.

He’s in a meeting with Bradly at the moment. I can tell him you called. She had his cell number. I was certain she’d called it several times before resorting to calling the office line.

Yeah, I guess. She huffed out an annoyed sigh. Do you know when they are going to be finished?

Sorry, I don’t get the details. How are you? More than once, she had just needed to bitch about something. How her stylist took off a quarter of an inch too much, how the nail salon didn’t understand that she needed a shade lighter to match her dress.

Mimi threw me out of her store, she confessed.

I dropped the file Deacon had given me onto my desk.

What happened? The words were out of my mouth before I could recall them. I didn’t really care. Okay, I was a little curious as to how one got kicked out from the loud and obnoxious Mimi’s shop.

Well, I was looking at a dress for tomorrow’s event. I know Cameron just adores Mimi, but I like to try multiple places… I let her ramble on, only half listening as I entered Deacon’s hours from the last case.

Forty-five minutes and an uncountable number of grunts and oh, she didn’ts from me later, I was finally hanging up with Tiffany.

I emailed Cameron to let him know she had called and why.

I heard Bradly’s laughter as they both came down the hallway.

Mimi threw her out? he asked, needing confirmation.

She did, I confirmed.

Cameron rubbed his forehead. I don’t understand. Mimi makes her clothing. Everything is custom, not to mention expensive. What did she say?

I looked up at him with a blank expression on my face. Shit, I had just listened to her bitch, what was her issue again?

Ugh, comparison shopping, I think. I wasn’t actually paying attention, I muttered, feeling my face reddening.

Bradley kept laughing, shaking his head at me. Even Cameron cracked his stone face for a half smile, his hands in his pants pockets.

You are more like one of the guys than you know. I think Cameron meant that as a compliment.

I shrugged. Be honest, you aren’t interested in her for her robust conversation skills. Oh shit, mouth, why?

Bradly straightened up, watching Cameron closely. Cameron opened his mouth, but my phone rang and I snatched up the distraction.

C&B, this is Mel, I answered, my words running together.

Darling girl, when are you coming down? Mama has herself a hot date, Mimi purred.

Hi Mimi, I can come down now if that works. I cast a look at Cameron, who in turn eyeballed the papers on my desk.

Oh, you are such a sweet love. That’s perfect! she sang, before hanging up on me.

I stood, pulling my jacket on and belting it over my slightly chunky stomach before pulling my bag over my shoulder.

You have your concealed carry in that monstrosity of a bag? Bradly asked me. Safety was his biggest concern. I never felt worried about it while they were around, but obtaining this job had meant getting real comfy with guns, including a concealed carry permit and weekly shooting practice.

Yep, all stowed and loaded with the safety on. I patted my bag.

Good girl, Bradly told me. He didn’t mean to speak down to me. In his mind, I was certain, it was a compliment.

You coming back? Cameron asked, pulling his cognac gaze back off my messy desk and back to my own blue one.

Yeah, don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare leave my desk like this for too long. Just remember, you made the appointment with Mimi.

Cameron nodded, toying with a paper.

Oh, and call Tiffany back, I yelled over my shoulder. There was no response to that.

…

Mimi’s was a short walk from our downtown office. Unlike the austere buildings of steel and glass, her one story shop had a delicate atmosphere, with vintage furniture amid the racks and racks of custom clothing.

I pushed opened the worn door, the bell announcing my arrival.

Hi Mimi! I called, making a beeline for the chair by the dressing room, discarding my bag and jacket.

She was behind the counter on the phone, her large form dressed in a beautiful red scarf dress that showed her ample curves.

Of course, darling, she is right here. I’ll spare no expense for her outfit now that I know the details.

I scrunched my face up; I hadn’t even asked what the event was. Not my best move. I just trusted Mimi, who hadn’t screwed up once.

She hung up and turned to me, her dark locks curled and pinned exquisitely around her face.

Holy crap, Mimi! You are all decked out! I exclaimed, smiling brightly at her. I may have found her clothing too tight and her shoes too tall, but I adored her.

She preened, kicking out a hip and bouncing her curls with a hand.

I’m glad you like it, doll. I have something similar in mind for you.

I groaned, Are you going to shove me into the corset again?

Do you know of anything else that gives your bust this much of a boost? She pointed to her own chest.

But I can’t slouch in it. I was whining and I knew it.

She turned me around, pushing me into the dressing room. You shouldn’t slouch, anyways, doll.

I huffed, closing the curtain to the dressing room and turning around to the sapphire blue dress on the hanger.

Wow, I murmured.

I thought you’d like it. She sounded smug. She had every right to be.

Tossing my own bargain brand clothing to the floor, I slipped on the formfitting dress. The top had a square neckline that dipped lower than anything I usually wore. The fabric cinched in at my natural waist before fluffing out into a 50s style skirt. I slipped on the insanely high heels and made my exit.

No matter how many times Mimi dressed me, she always acted like each outfit was the best one yet.

Oh, honey! Why you hide those gorgeous legs, I’ll never understand. I smiled at her praise, spinning. Come, come, up you go.

I obliged her, stepping carefully onto an oval platform in front of the three mirrors, tilting to look at myself, gleefully. My bra half showed, but the corset Mimi had made for me was at home.

You have outdone yourself, Mimi, I praised her yet again.

It’s a little too loose, she said around a mouthful of pins.

I rolled my eyes, couldn’t even bring myself to care.

The bell above the door rang out. We both turned.

Mimi? a familiar voice rang out. It’s Cameron.

Back here. Her voice sounded intrigued. I looked down at her. This had to be about Tiffany.

Cameron came around the corner with his hands full of roses and a box of chocolates.

Muhuh, you best come with your tail between your legs, trying to get me to dress your latest hussy.

I laughed, quickly covering my mouth and ducking my head.

Stand still, girl, or I will stab you.

Yes, ma’am, I whispered, meeting Cameron’s resigned gaze in the mirror, a smile tugging at my lips.

I need her to look a certain way, Mimi. That’s why I send Mel down here. You don’t complain about her, Cameron noted.

Mimi stopped working at me, hoisting herself up from her seat and pointing a finger at Cameron. Oh, he had done it now.

Boy, what I do for you, I do because I like you and I like Mel. Tiffany, she gritted, hitting the name hard, is a floosy who is after your money and your fame. If you are too stupid to see that or too ignorant to understand it, that is your own damn problem, but she doesn’t need to be mine as well.

Cameron’s mouth thinned into a small line. I bit my lip. Mimi was right, but in the seven months I had been employed at C&B, that was the only type of girl I’d seen Cameron interested in. I couldn’t say I understood it, but I accepted it.

Cameron continued to stare at Mimi and she back at him. I turned, taking a careful step off the platform.

He is sorry, Mimi. He doesn’t bring roses and chocolates to Tiffany. What he can’t say in words, accept in gifts.

Cameron looked sharply at me. I imagine he didn’t like me talking for him.

I pushed on, I’ll take care of Tiffany’s dress. My guess is that she is after something designer and stupidly expensive. I’ll be sure she is dressed nothing like I usually am. I gave him a small smile.

The tension in his shoulders drained and he reached out and took my hand.

I didn’t mean to insult you. His eyes held honestly.

I know, Cameron. I patted his hand. Now get lost, my feet are already killing me.

Cameron nodded, looking at Mimi.

You be grateful for her, she warned. We both turned back to the mirrors and she helped me back onto the platform.

…

The next morning I unlocked the office, shutting off the alarm at 9 a.m. I was usually the first in. The guys tended to pull strange hours. I padded through the office, flipping lights on and starting the coffee pot.

Arriving at my desk, I hung my dress for the night, complete with corset, and my shoes on the door of the supply closet behind my chair.

Four hours later, I was heading downstairs for lunch when I met the UPS delivery man in the hallway.

Hi, Mel.

Hey, Sam. I’ve been anxiously awaiting this box.

He smiled, handing me his digital clipboard to sign. I did so, then handed it back and headed back to the office.

I went into Cameron’s office, carefully opening the package, checking that it was indeed the stupidly expensive designer dress Tiffany had wanted, in size two. My own self-confidence took a small blow, until I reminded myself my dress was custom made. Who cared if it was a size 14?

I turned, seeing Deacon in the doorway and jumping slightly.

What the hell? You know I scare easily.

He laughed, his dimples showing. That’s the fun.

I rolled my eyes. Whatever.

What are you doing in the boss’s office? I may have been a part of the team, but trust was hard earned with these guys.

I turned, holding up the dress. Tiffany’s custom order that cost an additional $175 for shipping.

Deacon coughed. The fucking better be worth it.

I couldn’t agree more. I carefully placed the dress back in the box, slipping on the lid.

Anyways, I came to see if you wanted to grab lunch? Deacon asked, an innocent smile playing over his lips.

You need me to help with recon?

His grin widened, revealing perfectly shaped dimples again. I’m a hard face to forget once I’m made.

I grabbed my purse off my desk. You are paying.

The company is paying, he clarified.

Whatever, I’m not. What do you mean, made? You’ve followed me before and I’ve never seen you.

He gave me a half smile, holding open the main door before turning to lock it. She may have flirted with me at the grocery store.

I laughed, pushing the button for the elevator and giving his shoulder a playful punch. You are too good-looking for your own good.

I know. He pretended to be upset about it, combing his hair back. If this wasn’t a case, I would have taken her up on the offer to go back to her place, but I can’t imagine the client being too pleased about that.

Client as in husband? I clarified.

As in.

I rolled my eyes. So many of our cases were for the wealthy, who demanded utter secrecy in our role providing evidence of cheating spouses. I hate to say it, but if someone had an inkling about their spouse, it was usually right. I was thankful l was happily married, or my job would have left me jaded about love.

So, where are we going?

…

A half hour later, I was sipping tea, waiting on my croissant sandwich and homemade chips at an expensive French patio restaurant. Deacon had thoughtfully provided me with sunglasses and a hat, complete with a small camera and microphone.

Two tables away from me sat an attractive blond twirling her hair around a long delicate finger, the fingers of her other hand drawing small hearts on her date’s hand. He leaned forward to brush his other hand over her thigh, exposed by a sundress that hardly covered her undies.

Well, assuming she was wearing any.

Hey Mel, tilt to the left, Deacon stated in my ear.

I rested my chin in my hand, letting the camera drift to the left.

God, no underwear. I bet they have sex in the parking garage. I think Deacon was drooling.

The waitress delivered my meal. I smiled and thanked her before chowing down.

Can you chew quietly, please? I’m trying to record their conversation.

I typed a quick message to him on my phone.

Deacon laughed as he got the text. Honey, if you want to take a wild ride on the one and only Deacon, I am happy to oblige, once this case is done.

I typed another message. Huh, well that is creative, Deacon complimented me.

The cheating spouse in question leaned forward, her lips locking with her date’s, his hand sliding up her dress. She was indeed not wearing any underwear.

I ducked my head, looking away. Honestly, it had been a long time since my husband and I had been intimate. I