I’m looking over the schedule in my office when Zak strolls into the large space, dropping down in the wingback-armchair on the other side of my desk. “Please tell me you have something better lined up for me when I’m finished this assignment. I swear, if I have to listen to one more conversation in a foreign language, I’m going to punch someone.”
I don’t bother lifting my head, but I glance at him from under my brow. “Aikido Masuda doesn’t need you listening to his conversations, Zak. He needs you to keep him safe from potential threats.”
Zak grumbles something under his breath that I can’t be bothered trying to decipher as I go back to the list of upcoming clients and matching them with the best bodyguard suited to their needs.
Unfortunately, Zak is still sitting in my office, obviously waiting for something. “What?” I demand gruffly, wondering why the hell he’s still sitting here instead of working.
“What or who have I got after I escort Aikido to the airport on Thursday?” His tone drips in exasperation.
Flipping through the pages on my desk, I pull out a sheet with the information on his next assignment and outstretch my hand for him to take it. He stands and snatches it from my hands with enthusiasm. I smirk because he’s not going to be any happier with his next client.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Another ambassador? Seriously, man?” He throws the paper back on the desk, anger radiating from his huge frame.
“This one’s French,” I tell him without looking up.
Zak’s palms slap down on the desk in front of me, and this gets my attention. I sit back in my chair, my hands looping together behind my neck as I wait for him to say whatever it is he needs to get off his chest.
He glares at me. This is nothing new; he’s been doing it since we were kids. “Why are you being such a dick lately? You know I hate being on foreigner details. I get a headache listening to them constantly blabbering in their native tongue.”
“I’m not doing it to be a prick, and you might get a headache from it, but Alec will get the shits with it and won’t do his job properly. You will remain professional. That’s what this guy needs. He’s only your problem for forty-eight hours, okay?”
Zak leans back a little. “Alec and I aren’t the only guys you have on the books. Can’t you pull someone else in for this?”
I shake my head. “Nope. You know you two are the only ones qualified and experienced enough for these kinds of clients. Lee is too green, and these uptight pricks don’t think a woman is capable of protecting them so Jessa is out too.”
Zak takes a deep breath and sits back in the armchair, and levels his glare on me yet again. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so tired, and not to mention fucking busy right now.
He clears his throat. “Are you forgetting you have four other employees’?”
I raise a brow. “No, fuckface. Todd, Jones, Mack and Celeste are all either on long-term clients or will still be with a current client when the Frog gets here. That leaves me with you and Alec for this, and I’ve already explained why you’re the better man for the job. Now would you fuck off out of my office and go do the job I’m paying you for?”
He mutters something under his breath as he storms out, leaving the door open.
Thirty seconds later, my receptionist pokes her head through the open door and clears her throat. I take in her purple curls and smile. Miss Gene is a sweet old lady who insists on using a typewriter instead of a computer, but I allow it seeing as she’s in her late seventies and can type faster than anyone I’ve ever seen.
“Yes, Miss Gene?” I say with affection, because you can’t help but love the old girl.
“Would you like the door closed, sweetheart?”
I nod. “Please, Miss Gene, thank you.”
She shoots me a wink, then closes the door behind her.
She’s the first person I hired when I started my company. I’d put an ad up looking for an experienced receptionist and when she walked in the door, I thought she was lost. And then she dropped an old-school typewriter in pristine condition on the desk and asked me what the hourly rate was.
After I sat there staring at her, dumbfounded for a full five minutes, she had the gall to ask me, me, if she was in the right place because I seemed a bit slow in the head. I’d burst out laughing and hired her after she told me she used to be a court scribe. Since her husband passed away, she was bored out of her mind and wanted to put her skills on her typewriter, affectionately named Betty, to good use.
I have another woman, Trisha enter everything Miss Gene does into the system, then file the originals.
When I’m surrounded by silence once more I go back to the papers in front of me and continue reading through the information on a senator’s daughter who’s recently been receiving some pretty serious threats.
She’s a twenty-eight-year-old socialite. This will be a fun one, my thoughts drip with sarcasm. Ah shit, no judging clients before the meet and greet. Nobody, regardless of their position, deserves to be threatened like this.
I have copies of all the letters she has received over the last two weeks. The letters themselves aren’t that big of a concern; it’s were they were left. One on the windscreen of her car, another in her personal mailbox in a heavily secure building, and even in her locker at the gym she frequents.
Whoever is responsible has access to her, and they want her to know it. That bothers me the most. If they simply wanted to frighten her they would have just sent them, not gone to the trouble of getting so close to her without being noticed.
Rubbing the scruff on my jaw, I make note that I really should shave tomorrow morning before going to meet with her father, Senator Astor.
I type his name into the database and wait for the information to load. While I’m waiting I buzz Miss Gene. “Miss Gene, could you make me a coffee please?”
She doesn’t like using the coms system but she’s okay with me using it to talk to her. Ten seconds later, she opens the door to my office and says, “Of course, sweetheart. Do you want some of the sugar cookies I made on the side?”
I grin at her. “That would be great thanks, Miss Gene.” When she closes the door behind her, I once again thank myself for hiring her. This is something I’ve done well over a hundred times, and I’ll never stop doing it.
Returning my focus to the computer, I scroll through the list of bills the senator has pushed through or stood in the way of over the years, and surprise, surprise, they all come across as a little shady to me. And he wonders who would be making threats against his daughter. Moron.
Running through them I begin to make a list of possible suspects. This guy is mixed up in everything from oil to deforestation. The greenies hate him, there’s an entire website dedicated to the fact, stating all the wrongs he has helped commit against the environment. I add them to my growing list. Greenies are usually peace-loving tree-huggers, but this guy? I can understand why they have it in for him.
It’s possible the girl could have pissed someone off too. Maybe an angry ex trying to get back at her? If she’s anything like her daddy, I can see that happening.
When I’m finished making my list, I go back over it. It’s long, too long. And I won’t be able to narrow it down until I’ve spoken to him, the daughter, and anyone else close to them. I pick up my phone and shoot my baby brother a text with the senator’s info to see what he can dig up.
Axel has resources I don’t, and vice versa. Both having military backgrounds has put us in contact with various means to gaining not-so-public-knowledge. And with clients that not only need to be protected from everyday threats but who are specific targets, we need all the information we can get in order to be fully prepared.
I’m still running over who I will have available and who will be the best fit for this girl when my phone beeps with an incoming text. Glancing at the screen, I see Axel’s name and slide my finger across it to read his message.
Axel: Senator Astor? You sure?
I frown and look back to my papers for confirmation, even though I know I didn’t get it wrong.
Abe: Yes, Senator Thomas Astor. Why?
A moment later my phone begins ringing, again, it’s Axel. I answer on the second ring, “Yes.”
My brother takes a deep breath, then speaks. “Senator Thomas Astor is kind of Ashlynn’s uncle. His first wife, Gina, was Ashlynn’s aunt. She was murdered in a mugging gone wrong about twelve years ago.”
I had read the murder in his file, but I didn’t know about the connection to Ashlynn. I remain silent as this new information sinks in and I think about what this could potentially mean for my brother. I come to the conclusion that Ashlynn is far enough removed from the situation that she faces no possible danger.
“I knew about the first wife but not the connection to Ash,” I murmur into the phone as I continue to think it over, and—
Fuck.
Oh, fuck.
If the senator is her uncle that makes his daughter Ash’s cousin. Christ, it could be Kalista.
Looking down at the mess of papers on my desk, I search for the piece with the daughter’s name on it. I’d skimmed it, not really taking it in, too focused on the threat being posed not the girl herself.
Just as I find the paper I was looking for, Axel speaks. “It’s Kalista, Abe. I saw you two at the wedding, disappearing into Bray and Stella’s house, then reappearing when Ash and I were getting ready to leave the reception. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t care—it wasn’t an issue.”
I stop listening to him and stare down at her name in front of me. Memories of my brother’s wedding start scrolling through my brain like a movie. “I gotta go. See what dirt you can find on Astor,” I tell him, then end the call without a goodbye.
Alec had told me she was a senator’s daughter that day. But Kalista didn’t fit the typical profile. She was beautiful, happy, free-spirited, and even better once I got her alone in one of Stella and Bray’s spare rooms.
“What’s got you smiling to yourself, Mister?” Miss Gene’s sweet voice snaps me out of my flashback.
Jesus, I didn’t even hear her come in. She’s like a little purple-haired ninja. I shift in my seat and pull my chair in closer to my desk, making sure my boner is out of sight. “Just thinking. Nothing important,” I answer her.
But the glint in her eye tells me she’s onto me. She’s frisky for an old girl.
Miss Gene winks as she sets my coffee and sugar cookies down on my desk, then wiggles her grey brows at me before turning away and walking out, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll let you get back to your thoughts. Sorry I interrupted,” she snickers as she closes the door behind her.
My head falls back on the headrest of my chair and I groan. Busted with a boner by Miss Gene. Not something I ever thought would happen, but as I live and breathe, it just did.
I stay like that, my head leaning back, looking at the ceiling while I process the new information Axel just gave me. I didn’t think I’d ever see Kalista again—not in person, at least. I see her almost nightly when I go to sleep, her body ingrained in my subconscious, reliving everything we did that night.
It takes me all of three seconds to decide that I am the best man for this particular client. I can keep it professional. It’ll be fine. I just want to see her again, and keeping her safe is the least I can do after she utterly blew my mind that night.
That’s what I tell myself. And that’s what I’ll keep telling myself until I believe it.