Ace Montgomery sat in front of his iPad, sweating bullets. He sipped a fresh cup of decaf, but even the lack of a stimulant didn't calm his racing pulse. Should this interview go well, he'd be on his way to parts unknown, to the concrete jungle of New York City. For all the times he'd been punched, kicked, bit, shot and stabbed, a simple Skype interview and a potential move should have been a piece of cake. But he'd never used Skype, and he'd never lived anywhere but Kentucky. He'd traveled some, enjoyed Chicago’s skyline and San Diego’s beaches, but how was a good old country boy supposed to feel at home in a city like that?
He cleared his throat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It wouldn't do for Miss Kingston to see his fear. His cousin Harper had told him the lady needed a security guard for her bar, and if Ace knew anything, it was security. He reminded himself of that, in hopes it would garner him a little more confidence.
The clock ticked from 11:29 to 11:30. Showtime. All he had to do was press the video call button on Skype. Lena, his cousin Jaxon's fiancée, was in advertising and had convinced him to implement more mobile technology for his private security business. She’d done good things for Jaxon’s air tour business, so he thought it couldn’t hurt. Security these days required some high-tech gear to match what criminals were using. He’d already invested in surveillance equipment but syncing it all to mobile apps and such took a big learning curve.
Things may have been slow going, but it sure as hell beat working in the drug enforcement branch of the state police. This new job could turn things around for him.
That is, if he could figure out where the damn video call button was.
The clock now read 11:31. Great, already late. He scanned his Skype window, clicked on her name – Sailor Kingston - and the faceless white profile picture. That didn't do it. Finally, he spied a camera-like icon and clicked on it. A black screen popped up, with a musical doop, doop, doop, do-do-doop! He picked up his coffee and sipped it.
A face popped up on the screen. It held the impatient frown of a woman with blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Ace froze. She might already be pissed at him, but this woman was ...wow. How would he describe her? Stunning? Gorgeous? A supermodel? She had perfect hair and makeup. Her black onyx and white pearl earrings and necklace matched her dress - a sleeveless one that looked like something a first lady might wear. Definition: Way out of his league.
His coffee slipped from his hand. The mug hit the floor, but not before spilling its contents on his jeans and shirt, where it soaked through and scalded his skin. He pinched the shirt fabric, pulling it out and in quickly in an attempt to cool the burn. Damn, now he realized he should have worn a tie and jacket instead of a simple dress shirt.
"....a bad time, we can reschedule." The woman's voice brought him to attention. This had to be Miss Kingston's lawyer or a personal assistant or something.
"No, ma'am, not a bad time. Just spilled some coffee on myself." Good lord, he sounded like a brainless idiot.
She didn't smile. In fact, she didn't show any emotion, except for glancing at a gold watch on her wrist as though she had better things to do. "Well then, I suppose we can get this interview started. I'm Sailor Kingston."
He sat there blinking at the screen for a moment. This was the Miss Kingston? "Ace Montgomery."
"Thank you for your interest in this position." She shuffled through some papers. "I don't know exactly what Harper may have told you about it, but your resume is impressive enough. It says here you worked for the Kentucky State Police for five years. May I ask what prompted you to leave?"
A scene flashed through his mind - a bare, swinging lightbulb, matted blonde hair...
He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "I... needed something different. You can only serve so many speeding tickets before things get boring."
"So then you went into private security. Tell me about that."
"Yes, I work for various clients. I train security staff, do private investigating, and occasional bodyguard work for visiting celebrities and politicians."
Miss Kingston nodded and tapped a perfectly red-polished nail on her chin as she scanned the resume. "I see. Have you ever worked in a lounge before?"
"Do you mean a bar?"
She glanced up, with what might have been a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Yes, a bar. The Hole is a bar and lounge with a limited food menu. It's an upscale establishment in Brooklyn."
Ace scratched at the back of his neck and smiled. "Upscale, maybe. But sounds like you've got a rowdy crowd of city folk in there."
Her shoulders lifted and lowered with a nonchalant shrug. "That's why I'm looking for someone to provide better security. I'm not sure why my establishment is attracting such a boisterous crowd, but it is, despite my best efforts."
"What would you call your best efforts?" He'd become the interviewer now. Shoot, if he was about to pull up roots and move his redneck ass to the big city, he wanted to be sure about what he was getting himself into.
"I have a couple of bouncers on staff, but they aren't doing their jobs."
"How so?"
She fiddled with her necklace and let out a sigh, then looked past her computer screen as though making sure no one was listening in. The change in the light's angle revealed dark circles under her eyes and sunken cheeks that suggested she wasn't eating enough. Beneath all the put-togetherness she tried to portray, was a weary woman at the end of her rope.
She returned her attention to the screen and met his gaze. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of blue, but full of seriousness. "They won't check IDs half the time, they stare at their phones instead of watching the patrons to stop fights before they begin. Even when a fight does break out, sometimes I have to make them intervene."
"Why not fire them and hire better bouncers?"
"I've tried that. The big Manhattan nightclubs keep luring them away. Less work and more pay."
"Can't you offer them more?"
"No, I can't compete with those big establishments. My money's tied up in several properties, so...it's not feasible at this time."
Ace sat back in his seat, fingers drumming his thighs. "Let me guess - you inherited a bunch of money and property, but also all the taxes and liens that came along with it. Now you're in over your head. How do you expect me to help you with all that?"
She sat up even straighter than before, if that was even possible, and stared him down. "I don't expect you to help me with all that. I just want you to clean up my bar. Do you think you can manage that, or do I need to look elsewhere?"
"I'm not cheap."
"I'm aware of that. Can you handle rowdy drunks or not?" She'd taken back the reins of this interview. He had to admire her for that.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm an expert sharpshooter, trained in close combat, with black belts in Krav Maga and Taekwondo. As a state trooper, I took down armed suspects on numerous occasions, many of whom were high as the Empire State building at the time. I think I can handle some drunks."
She tilted her head to one side, arching one sculpted brow. "I thought you said all you did was write speeding tickets."
"No, ma'am, I said I was tired of writing speeding tickets."
"Well then, how soon can you get to New York?"
"As soon as my Indian Chief can get me there."
Those baby blues of hers widened. "Your what?"
"You'll see."
She shrugged. Her face went back to stone-cold business lady. "I don't care how you get here, but you better be worth the expense."
"I'll be worth it and then some, ma'am."
After he'd printed off some paperwork, he packed his bags and loaded them up on his motorcycle. No wife, no kids, no pets - nothing but an old farmhouse that wouldn't miss him for a few months. That's how he liked it. But damn, he had a feeling once he got to know Sailor Kingston, it might be awful hard to come back home.