Hard to Forget

Kyle looks to me, then back to Jax. “For a few weeks, yes. Then we’ll be swapping shifts.”

“Not sure I’m comfortable with her being on her own.”

I bristle, but keep my mouth shut and stand straight, face blank, copying Kyle.

“That’s something you need to discuss with Nak. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go over your schedule for the week.”

Jax turns and glares at Kyle, and I smother a laugh. Kyle won’t take that well. He’s not the kind of man that enjoys someone more dominant than him. Still, he takes it like a boss and doesn’t even flinch. Jax holds his eyes for a long moment, then finally turns and reaches into a filing cabinet behind him, bringing out two yellow folders. He places them on his desk and slides them towards us.

We both take one and sit down in the seats beside us. I open my folder and it’s filled with information, schedules, phone numbers and contacts. Jax starts talking as we flip through them. “This week is busy. I’ll be here at least two times during the evenings. There’s a room next to this one that has all the basics. You can both take turns resting in there. Whoever is with me will be in the room with me at all times, obviously.”

We both nod.

“I have a charity event on Friday night, I’ll need someone to accompany me. I figure that’s where the girl can come in handy, as she can dress up and act as a guest, while being by my side and providing security.”

The girl.

The girl.

I slap the folder down. I can be professional, and do my job properly, but I deserve the same respect anyone in my position would get. “Delaney,” I snap.

His eyes shoot to me and Kyle’s head swivels, and he too gives me a truly ugly look. I ignore it and glare at Jax.

“What?” he growls.

“My name is Delaney, not the girl. I’m showing you respect, Mr. Shields, I expect the same in return.”

“Who is paying you?” he hisses.

“That’s beside the point…”

“Delaney!” Kyle snaps, reaching over and curling his fingers around my wrist, squeezing in warning. “Enough.”

I bite my lip when really all I want to do is scream and tell him exactly what I think of him. The arrogant, chauvinistic pig. I straighten, wipe my face blank of emotion and mutter, “Very well, what else?”

Jax blinks at me, then shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath, before continuing.

“I have two lunches during the week that I will need to be accompanied to. Also, I have one dinner, with a,” he hesitates, “client. And four business meetings, two inside this building, two at other locations. The other nights I will be spending at my apartment. I trust you both have the full layout of my apartment, as well as these offices?”

We both nod.

“Good,” he mutters. “This elevator takes me down to the underground car park, and that’s where I will be traveling from. I prefer leaving from a secure location, instead of getting into a car parked on the street.”

“We’ll have all of that covered, Mr. Shields, I assure you,” Kyle says, finally letting go of my arm.

It was taking all my effort not to jerk my arm away and hiss at him.

“Fine,” Jax grunts. “Today I have a meeting downtown in about an hour, then I’m here for the rest of the day. Tonight I’ll be at my apartment.”

Kyle stands. “Good, I’ll go down and secure the car for your departure in an hour. Delaney, you will stay with Mr. Shields while I do that.”

Jax looks like he wants to strangle Kyle for leaving me in here with him, but he says nothing. Kyle shoots me a warning look, then disappears out the door. I turn to Jax. He ignores me, flicking open his laptop computer and staring at the screen, his expression blank.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, so I go with common sense and scan the room, looking for any ways someone could harm Jax while he’s under my supervision. “You have poor desk positioning,” I say suddenly, realizing that his desk is right in front of the massive windows.

His head jerks up and he spits, “Did I ask you to speak?”

“I’m your security, Mr. Shields, and I feel you are in a dangerous position with your desk in front of a window.”

“We’re at the top of the damned building.”

I walk over to the window, and he swivels his chair around to watch me. I point to the line of buildings across the street. “A person with a gun could stand on any one of those buildings and take a shot in here.”

Jax doesn’t say anything, so I stare at him. He’s looking at the buildings.

“My windows are tinted.”

“Sir, with all due respect, snipers have high-end technology that can look through simple tinting.”

He flinches. Then, before I can say any more, he stands. He puts both his big hands on his desk and pushes it, causing cords to be yanked out of the wall as he moves the massive desk to the left, where there’s a big, empty space away from the window. He positions the desk, and then turns and stares out the window again, to make sure he can’t see any buildings. I stand there blinking, shocked he actually took my advice seriously.

I watch as he picks up all his things and just like that, he’s rearranged his office. He doesn’t look at me as he gets back to work as if nothing happened. I’m stunned for a moment, but quickly walk across the room, staring out the window, scouring the buildings and then walking through the massive floor to do a basic check.

When I return, my radio crackles and Kyle’s voice comes across the speaker in my ear. “Delaney, we’ve got a bit of an issue down here. I’ll be back up in about half an hour. Stay with Mr. Shields, and until I give the all clear, don’t let him leave the room.”

I quickly respond, the way I’ve been taught. “Copy that, all is well up here.”

I want to ask what is happening, but we have strict instructions to keep the radio lines as clear as possible by only passing on essential information. They’re not “cell phones,” as Nak often drilled into us. My heart rate kicks up as I join Jax again, and see he’s still tapping away at his laptop, his face tight. I’m supposed to just stand quietly by a door, but I really want to ask him questions.

Like, what happened? How does he feel about me being here? How did he become so important? How did he manage to build such a huge business at a young age? Is he truly a manwhore? Are the magazines right? Is he scared? What does he do for fun? I ask none of this, and instead take my place by the door and stare out the window, occasionally glancing at Jax.

“Just fucking ask,” he suddenly says and I flinch, turning towards him to see he’s studying me.

“Ask what?”

“You’re fidgeting, and you keep fucking staring at me. Obviously you want to ask something, so just do it so I can get back to work.”

I wish I could, but I have strict instructions to be professional and only answer questions when I need to.

“It’s fine, Mr. Shields,” I say, keeping my voice monotone.

“Call me Jax or sir, but not Mr. Shields,” he demands and I nod. “Now ask the damned questions.”

“I don’t want to ask questions,” I say, trying to keep my calm.

“You think I’m stupid, girl?”