Getting revenge didn’t help.

Janie helped.

Maybe restitution would help.

I’m not a saint, and I don’t think I’ll ever get there, but Janie deserves better than a sinner.

***

The gym was empty when I arrived. I checked the closets, cabinets, exits, and perimeter before setting up the high frequency audio pulse (what my company had patented under the nickname the Bug Smasher). I set it for fifteen seconds, left, closed the door behind me, and gave the pulse adequate time to disable any listening or video devices within the room.

Thirty seconds later, I re-entered the gym, packed up the Bug Smasher, claimed the best treadmill of the three, and hooked my headset to my ear before setting my pace. I set the machine to a ten-minute warm-up. Then I called Dan.

His phone rang five times before he picked up.

“Someone better be dead or horny.”

“Good morning, Dan.”

“You’re seriously calling me at five-fucking-fifty in the morning?”

I glanced at my watch. “Sorry, are you on vacation?”

“Wait, are you on the treadmill? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—please don’t tell me you left Janie to go run on a treadmill? What happened to your dick, Quinn? Did they confiscate it at customs? I can’t think of another straight man who would leave all that a-”

“You didn’t give me a report yesterday.” I thought about the previous day, remembered that Dan took Pete’s place guarding Janie last night. “Anything I should know? Why’d you replace Pete?”

“Oh, that. We thought some guy was tailing her. Pete called it in. I replaced him so he could follow up. Turns out the guy was a nobody, some banker. Thought she was pretty, wanted to ask her out for a drink.”

“Did he approach her?”

“No. Pete interceded and took him for a walk. I think you’re driving her crazy with all the guards.”

“I know. But I want her to be safe.”

“Do you know something that I don’t?” I guessed that Dan was referring to the Wickfords. They were the primary private account that we were offloading during this visit.

The Wickfords were idiots, ass**les, and cowards.

During the handoff meetings, they’d made veiled threats about undermining my credibility with corporate clients. I wasn’t expecting the temper tantrums.

But they weren’t violent, which was probably why Dan was questioning my compulsion to have a team of three guards following Janie everywhere she went.

“No. You know everything. I just want her safe.” I glanced at the display panel. I still had eight minutes left in my warm-up pace of six miles per hour. “Anything else happen?”

“Not on the ground. I have a few items as part of the daily status update. Speaking of, how are the negotiations going with the Wickfords?” He finally came out and asked.

I grimaced and thought about how to answer without using only expletives. “Better yesterday than the day before.”

Extracting my company from the private security business had proven challenging over the past four months. In other words, it was a pain in the ass.

Powerful families were like spoiled children; they required coddling and didn’t respond well to change.

“Those people are a piece of work,” Dan said. “Do you remember three years ago when I assigned myself to the grandson because he kept having accidents and run-ins with the O’Toole crew? That prick wanted us to get him hookers.”

“I remember,” I said.

“You should have dropped the family then.”

“They pay well.”

“Yeah, they’re also ass**les. I’m glad you’re cutting all the families loose.”

“So you’ve said.” The treadmill display told me I had another five minutes.

“So, the Wickfords don’t like their replacement security? Is that the deal?”

“That’s part of it. The other issue is they’re nervous about all the intel we’ve gathered over the years.”

Dan chuckled. “They should be. They all should be.”

“They want assurances.”

“They can kiss my ass.” Unlike me, Dan hadn’t shed his south Boston neighborhood accent. This sounded more like Dey kin kiss ma a-a-se.

I agreed, but I didn’t need to make enemies, not with some of the world’s richest families. “They’ll come around. Let’s talk about tomorrow.”

“Right. Tomorrow night. The party, the shindig thing. You, Janie, Steven, and me are all on the guest list. They’ve approved our security detail, finally. Nothing like waiting till the last bloody minute.”

“And you’ve looked over the guest list.” I stated this rather than asking.

“Of course, they’ve been cross checked. A few previous clients will be in attendance, mostly nothing to worry about.”

“Mostly?”

Dan hesitated, then he let out a weary sigh. “Remember Damon Parducci? The guy who drugged Janie in Chicago at the Outlandish club—or whatever the hell that stupidass place is called. His parents will be there. And they’re still unhappy about you ending their contract after that mess. Damon’s sentencing is next month, and all signs point to maximum prison time.”

I grunted. My blood pressure spiked, but I kept my tone even. “That little f**ker got what he deserved. He had the coke in his possession; we just tipped the cops as to when and where. I told them we weren’t in the business of protecting ra**sts and drug dealers, even before what happened to Janie.”

“I know. I just thought you should know, be prepared. Also….” Dan sighed. Again.

“What is it?” I was down to thirty seconds.

“Niki Kenner is going to be there.”

I blinked at the display, trying to place the name. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“You banged her in Los Angeles for a coupla weeks a few years ago. Then she went apeshit and made the rest of the month out there hell.”

I grimaced. That bitch was crazy. “Maybe we won’t go.”

“No. You have to go. At least ten of our corporate liaisons will be there, including the Grinsham corporate account. I know you and Janie are meeting with the security liaison today, but you know how these Brits are. They want to see you socially before they trust you and they know you’re on the list. It’s the main reason for this trip.”

He was right. “Maybe I won’t take Janie.”

“Take Janie. She’ll make you look good. And it’ll look weird if she’s not there after they meet her today during the specs meeting. She’s good for business. And when she’s not making you look good, she can make me look short…and good.”

“No, no…I don’t want—”

“Yes, yes. You don’t have to say it again. Steven and I are tired of hearing it. You don’t want our extraction from the private clients impacting her in any way. I know this already. She’ll have a good time. It’ll just be a charity party thing for her. She’ll get to dress up and shit.”

I grunted again. “I’m serious.”

“You’re always serious.”

“I have to go. We’ll go over the daily status report after my meeting this afternoon. I want to know what’s happening with Watterson.”

“No change with Senator Watterson, and it’s fine to go over the rest of the report later. Things are pretty quiet anyway. I’m going back to sleep.”

My time was up. I was already a full minute over my warm up, but I had one more thing on my mind.

I needed to ask Dan to be my best man. I briefly thought about waiting until I could do it in person. I decided against that. Better to just ask and get it out of the way.

“One more thing.” I took a deep breath, cleared my throat. “We’re engaged.” Then I added unnecessarily, “We’re getting married.”

Without missing a beat, Dan responded. “That’s great. Do I know him? Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up, ass**le.”

“Did he get down on one knee?”

“Dan….”

“Both knees? Wow. You’re lucky.”

I cracked a smile and shook my head. “I’m hanging up now, douchebag.”

“Does he know you’re not a virgin?”

“Keep talking, f**kface. You’re going on knitting group duty when we get back.”

“Tell Janie I said she’s too good for you.”

“Bye.” I disconnected the call before he could make another smartass remark. I would have to ask him to be my best man later.

One of the nicest things about working with my best childhood friend is that I can always count on him to tell me exactly what he thinks.

One of the worst things about working with my best childhood friend is that he’s always going to tell me exactly what he thinks.

***

Janie was on the phone when I got back—the hotel phone.

Even though she’d had the cell phone for going on six months, I still couldn’t get her to use it voluntarily. She’d text me infrequently, but she didn’t like using it for calls. Something about inconclusive research surrounding cell phone radiation exposure and brain tumors.