Chapter Four
Darren felt like he was walking into an execution as he walked with her partner down the hallway that led to the CEO’s office. Scott barged through the door without knocking, too quickly for Darren to stop him. Mrs. Ford was sitting behind a sleek desk made of glass, chrome, and polished black plastic.
Something about her had changed.
She and Scott had the same gray-blue eyes and pale brown hair. Hers hung around her face in its usual carefully styled waves. It only took Darren a moment to realize what was different.
The streaks of gray that had been abundant in her hair were nearly gone and her skin had smoothed considerably. She looked ten years younger. He had seen her yesterday.
He filed that observation away for later. The current shitstorm required his full attention.
As always, Blake Morrison was standing within her arm’s reach. His shoulders were squared and his hands clasped in front of him. The stance was casual, but Darren knew Morrison was ready to act in a split-second to defend his boss.
He was a head taller than Darren, and thick with muscle. The designer suit hid what it could, but Darren had seen Morrison sparring in the company’s training centers and knew not to underestimate the guy.
Morrison looked different, too. He hadn’t shaved his head or face in long enough that a layer of dark stubble was visible. Normally, he was impeccable in his grooming. His amber skin was blanched and his eyes had a haunted quality when he briefly met Darren’s gaze. He pulled himself up straighter and stared over Darren’s shoulder.
What the hell is going on?
Darren noticed that one of the chairs opposite her desk wasn’t empty just as Scott said, “Mom, I swear to you, we’re going to find out who did this and make them pay.”
She silenced him with a glare, keeping her stiff smile firmly in place as she stood and smoothed a hand over her skirt. “I wasn’t expecting you quite so soon.”
The stranger slid from the chair with a grace that didn’t seem to match his large form. Darren logged details quickly.
Brown hair, shorter on the sides than the top, made to look disheveled intentionally. Dark blue eyes. Crows feet, laugh lines, and a smile friendly enough that Darren found himself wanting to like the guy.
Probably a con man.
Expensive suit. Very expensive suit. Silk scarf and long jacket—loose enough to conceal weapons. Not bulky enough to conceal the size of the guy. If he’d been wearing jeans and a T-shirt, he would have fit right in at a construction site.
Maybe something else?
“I don’t believe you’ve met Mr. Reece,” Mrs. Ford said.
“No.” Scott’s tone was petulant, and her smile became even more strained.
Mr. Reece extended a hand to Scott, who ignored it. Darren stepped forward, accepting the greeting on Scott’s behalf.
“Ambrose Reece.” The man’s smile deepened.
“Ambrose?” Scott said.
Mr. Reece’s smile grew, like he was thinking of some private joke. “It’s a family name.”
“I’m Darren Calverton,” Darren said. “That’s Scott.”
“Yes, Scott Ford.” Mr. Reece released Darren’s hand as he turned to Mrs. Ford, and said, “I see the resemblance to your lovely mother.”
She cleared her throat a bit awkwardly while Morrison cast a baleful look at Mr. Reece.
Office gossip said Mrs. Ford and her personal bodyguard were a couple, and Darren was pretty sure that was accurate. They never did or said anything affectionate, but there was an unmistakable chemistry between them. A colleague had made a joke in front of Morrison about him liking older women, and Morrison had dislocated the guy’s arm in their next sparring practice.
“Ambrose Reece,” Darren said. “That name is familiar.”
“Mr. Reece is one of the foremost experts regarding antiquities.” Mrs. Ford walked around her desk to stand next to the group. Morrison followed at a not-so-discreet distance. He was definitely rattled by something more than Mr. Reece’s flirting.
Mr. Reece let out a huge yawn, holding a fisted hand up to his mouth to partially cover it. The guy had huge canine teeth. Sharp, too.
Con man, construction worker, or vampire?
Darren would have laughed at his thought, if he wasn’t so worried that he was about to be fired. The stress must be getting to him.
“I’m sorry to call you in at this late hour,” Mrs. Ford said.
Mr. Reece smiled and shook his head, but yawned again. He waved his hand briefly toward the track lighting for some reason, then said, “Not a problem. I usually keep late hours. But I do need to be on my way. I’ll be in touch if I hear anything from my contacts.”
“I appreciate it,” Mrs. Ford said.
He leaned in to Mrs. Ford and kissed both cheeks. Morrison bristled, but Mr. Reece only smiled at the other man. He nodded to Darren and Scott as he left the room.
A fence, maybe? Or someone with connections to illicit antiquities trades?
Mrs. Ford walked back around to her seat behind her desk, smoothing her skirt again as she sat. Morrison took up his position standing behind her.
“I only asked to see Darren,” she said. “Scott can go.”
“That’s crap,” Scott said. “We were partners on this job. Anything you have to say to him, you can say in front of me.”
Mrs. Ford just stared at Scott calmly. If he was considering throwing himself on the grenade to save Darren, it didn’t look like it was going to work, even if Darren would allow it—which he wouldn’t.
She let them stew for long enough that Scott started shifting his weight from one foot to another uneasily.
“Are you finished?” she finally said.
Scott kept quiet. Probably for the best.
“I’ve reviewed your reports and will be speaking with each of you separately.” She looked pointedly at Scott. “If you would please step outside.”
“It’s okay, Scott,” Darren said.
Scott cast one final glare over his shoulder at his mother, then stalked outside.
Mrs. Ford shook her head. She ignored Darren for another minute, signing a few documents before placing them in a neat stack on top of her desk. When she was done, she very deliberately clicked the cap in place on her pen, then leaned back in her chair.
“My husband started this company,” she said. “He wanted to create a legacy for his family. I’ve worked hard to keep things running. To make the company even stronger than it was when he passed away.”
Darren knew better than to say anything. He stared at a fixed point on the wall behind her shoulder, his gaze and stance mirroring Morrison’s.
“My son is supposed to run this company someday. I had hoped someday soon. But to do that, he needs experience. Knowledge. Most of all, he needs to take our work seriously. I hired you to facilitate that, Mr. Calverton. And you have failed.”
Darren sucked in a breath to launch a retort, but stopped himself. He let the breath out slowly instead, checking his temper.
“You hired me to provide security for specific high-level assignments,” Darren said.
“Scott was your assignment.”
Darren chose his words carefully, pushing against the rage that seethed inside of him. “Forgive me, but grooming Scott to take over the company wasn’t in my job description.”
“You have a business degree,” she said. “Scott can gain field experience over time, but what he truly needs to develop to run this company is business acumen. Something I had hoped he would learn from you.”
“You didn’t hire me to tutor your son on business matters.” Some of Darren’s frustration was seeping through.
“Didn’t I? Did it escape your notice that the majority of your peers have extensive military and combat experience? Tours and active duty?”
Darren tamped down tightly on the anger that surged up in him, keeping his voice low and calm. “All of us went through the same training when we came on board with the company. I passed all the same tests.”
That didn’t stop the other guys from constantly taunting him, but he’d thought that at least Mrs. Ford took him seriously. Apparently, he’d been wrong.
Yes, he had a business degree. But he studied the strategies, he worked out, trained. Every employee at Ford Security had been molded to fit how the company wanted their workers to perform, no matter what their backgrounds had been.
“You also have been given all of the lowest risk assignments,” she said.
Darren’s stomach turned sour. “Some of those assignments involved extreme danger. We placed ourselves in mortal jeopardy on multiple occasions.”
“Things don’t always turn out as we expect.”
That was sure as hell right.
Darren had wanted to protect people for as long as he could remember. He would have been a cop—like his dad—if he hadn’t watched the man struggle with two jobs to put Darren through school after his mom died.
Working private security was supposed to let him help people while also having the resources to take care of his family—if he ever came up with the time to start one. Based on what Mrs. Ford was saying, his career was probably over.
“I can’t see the future, Mr. Calverton,” she said. “I assure you, if I had known those assignments would be that dangerous, I would have given them to a more experienced team. A team that didn’t contain my son.”
She stood up and walked around the desk, glaring up at Darren as if he wasn’t almost a foot taller than she was. Morrison dropped his arms to his sides, his hands balled into fists as he no doubt watched Darren closely for any sign of a threat—like they’d all been trained to do.
“The black eye our company suffered today will set us back,” she said. “If it comes out that my son was involved, people won’t trust his leadership. They’ll stop trusting the company. And I can’t have that.”
“You’re throwing me under the bus,” Darren said.
“Who was the first to leave the package?” She fixed that stony gaze on him.
“Lives were at stake.”
“That wasn’t your concern. You had an assignment.”
“Saving a life will always be my concern.”
“Fine. That’s your choice. And you’re free to make as many more like it as you wish.”
She picked up the paperwork from her desk and handed it to him. His eyes skimmed over the words, registering things like “non-disclosure reminder” and “severance”.
“You’re firing me.” It didn’t feel real, even when Darren said the words out loud.
“Our severance package is quite generous, especially considering the circumstances of your departure.”
“Firing me and buying me off at the same time.”
“You can condemn my decision all you like—in your own head. But if you leak one word of this to anyone else, I will sue you for breaking your non-disclosure agreement.”
He didn’t doubt it.
“Those are your copies.” She walked back to her seat, smoothing her skirt as she sat. “I expect you to clear out your locker immediately. I’d rather not draw too much attention to this, so Mr. Morrison will be personally overseeing your activities through the surveillance cameras rather than escorting you out of the building. I trust that you’ll conduct yourself in a professional manner.”
The papers he was holding crunched as his hands flexed into fists. His head felt like it might explode into flames at any moment. He took a deep breath, suppressing the rage yet again.
There was more going on here than she knew. Darren was sure someone in the company was involved with the theft. He doubted Mrs. Ford would listen to him at the moment, and with Morrison in the room, it wasn’t safe to voice any suspicions.
Whoever had staged the accident had been willing to put innocent lives at risk. They had almost killed Miranda. For that reason alone, Darren would see them brought to justice.
And he would clear his name.
“Send in Scott, would you?” Mrs. Ford said.
Her stare was cold, but there was an uneasiness to it. Maybe she was wondering if he was going to argue or make a scene. He had other ideas.
He would focus on his own investigation—on figuring out who stole those coins and who in the company had helped. He would see that person in jail. If Mrs. Ford didn’t offer Darren his job back after that, he’d still be able to go to another company.
He turned around and walked out of her office.
Scott fairly pounced on him the moment Darren stepped into the hallway.
“What happened?” Scott said.
Darren shook his head. “That’s for her to tell you. She’s waiting.”
Scott glanced back and forth between Darren and his mom’s office door, uncertainty playing across his features.
“It’s okay.” Darren forced a smile onto his face somehow as he rolled up the papers in his hands.
“We’ll meet later?” Scott said. “To talk about this.”
“Yeah. Better not keep her waiting.”
Reluctantly, Scott slipped into the office.
Darren didn’t waste any time. He walked briskly to the locker room. Thankfully, it was empty. He was already wearing his back-up outfit. He’d showered to get the gas off of him and bagged up his other clothes—minus his jacket.
Miranda still had it. She’d been clutching it in her hands as the paramedics lifted her into the ambulance.
He didn’t regret helping her. Would never regret it. If that gasoline had lit up, she would have burned to death.
Everyone had been ignoring her car, probably thinking that the driver had been pancaked. He had seen it before at accident sites. Once people thought they understood a situation, they stopped looking for new information.
Her having his jacket was a good thing, though. It gave him an excuse to check on her at the hospital. He would swing by the diner on his way home and see if anyone knew where she’d been taken. He needed to see her again—to know that she was okay.
Thank God she had let them take her to receive care. If his mom had called for help sooner…
He shook his head forcefully. Now was not the time to go down Miserable Memory Lane. He grabbed his things from his locker and headed for the building’s exit. If he was fast enough, he could avoid talking to Scott until they’d both had more time to calm down.
Terry—the guard who monitored the foyer—was standing by the front door, blocking it. He was enormous. Six-foot-five and as big around as a century-old sequoia. He was also one of the friendliest people Darren had ever met.
“New haircut, Terry?”
Terry ran his hand over his gleaming scalp, then along the short cropped beard covering his chin. His brown eyes glittered, only a slightly darker shade of umber than his skin.
“The wife likes it,” he said. “And what the wife likes…”
Darren finished Terry’s standard statement. “The wife gets.”
“You gotta know how to keep your partner happy.”
Darren expected Terry to go into his usual, “When are you going to settle down? I want to come to your bachelor party. Our kids can play together.” Instead, his smile faded.
“I hate to do this, but boss’s orders.” Terry glanced up at the camera, then cleared his throat. “I need your badge and keycard.”
Another layer of reality crashed down on Darren. This was really happening.
He felt like worms were crawling through his guts. His skin prickled and his face heated.
He pulled his ID and keycard from his belt and handed them over. At least they didn’t ask for his piece. Ford Security’s workforce used their own sidearms after registering them with the company.
Terry leaned down and whispered, “Sorry, man.”
Darren nodded briefly, feeling the weight of the cameras on his back. He held his head high as he walked out the door.