“Yes.”
“It’s the name on your birth certificate?”
“Would you like me to bring you a copy?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You offer security consulting.”
“Among other things, yes.”
“Then why can’t I find your website?”
“Don’t have one.”
“What about social media?” she asked.
“Don’t use it.”
“Then how do you do business? How do you find clients?”
I flipped open the to-go container’s lid. Sandwich on thick bread. Looked good. “All my business is referrals.”
“You don’t advertise?”
“No.”
“And you stay in business?”
“Unfortunately.”
“What does that mean?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “It interferes with playing golf.”
“What qualifications do you have?”
Interviewing me when her boss had already hired me wasn’t Brandy’s job. But I didn’t mind the interrogation. It was another sign that Cameron had people looking out for her. And making an ally out of Brandy would make my job considerably easier, especially if Cameron decided to stop being cooperative.
“I’m not qualified. I’m overqualified.” I leaned back in my chair. Surprisingly, it didn’t squeak under my weight. “Marine Corps. Then CIA. I retired and moved to Miami five years ago. Now I’m a security consultant and… problem solver. I don’t have a website because I’m a one-man operation and I don’t need more business. I don’t do social media because I think it’s a waste of time.”
“Look, I know Emily didn’t hire you for Cameron without doing her due diligence. I’m just worried about her.”
“I know you are. That’s why I’m here. How long have you worked for her?”
“I’ve been at Spencer for almost ten years. Four years working for Cameron directly. She’s a really good boss.”
“You like working for her. What about other people? What’s her reputation like here?”
“Spencer employees are generally very loyal to her. They weren’t at first—there was some grumbling when she took over—but she earned their respect. People don’t always like change, but when they can see it’s for the best, they usually come around. That’s what happened here.”
That matched what I’d learned yesterday in my lengthy perusal of the building. I’d struck up casual conversations with people as I went, and had gotten the impression that Spencer employees were generally happy.
“Does she have any enemies on the inside? People who stand to gain if she steps down?”
Brandy’s eyes flicked toward an office down the hall. “Most of the executives work really well with her. But Noelle Olson, our Chief Operating Officer, isn’t exactly a fan.”
“Was she here when Cameron took over?”
“Yeah, and she wanted the job. I wouldn’t say she’s openly hostile, but she pushes back a lot. If anyone’s going to argue or try to stop Cameron from doing something, it’s usually Noelle.”
Interesting. An internal rivalry pointed to a potential suspect. “What about competitors?”
“There are quite a few companies in our space, especially because we have both military contracts and a large commercial division. But our biggest competitor in terms of where Cameron is taking the company is probably Reese Howard Aviation.”
I made a note to look into Reese Howard. See if there were any personal connections to Cameron. “Have there been any issues with corporate espionage? Anything shady going on there?”
“Not that I’m aware of. And why would someone trying to steal trade secrets attack Cameron? Trying to get her phone or something?”
“It’s possible. What about Cameron’s ex? What’s the story there?”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Aldrich Leighton? Why?”
“He’s on my list.”
She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Wait, do you think Aldrich had something to do with it?”
“I just have to look at all possibilities.”
Brandy glanced at Cameron’s office. The door was open, but she seemed absorbed in whatever she was doing. “He’s in finance—wealthy in his own right, but not at Cameron’s level. They dated for almost three years, I think. It ended about six months ago. It’s none of my business, but it was a long overdue breakup.”
“Why?”
Brandy looked at Cameron’s open door again.
“I’m not asking you to gossip about your boss,” I said. “I need to know what’s been going on in her life. Who might have motive to target her.”
“She seemed happy with him at first. I actually thought they might get married. But as time went on, he started being kind of crappy to her. He expected her to change her schedule to fit his, or take impromptu vacations no matter what she had going on here. I don’t think he respected the fact that she runs this company. Which was odd, because you’d think a peer would understand. He runs a company, too, so wouldn’t he get that she can’t just clear her calendar for two weeks on a Sunday night and jet off to the Bahamas with him?”
“Who ended it?” A personal, but not inappropriate, question. I needed to know. The dynamic of their breakup was important information.
But I also wanted to know if it had been her.
Hell, I wanted it to have been her.
“She did, but it was amicable.”
I stifled a small grin of satisfaction. Good for her. “So you don’t think Aldrich would have a reason to come after her.”
“It seems far-fetched. But honestly, the idea of anyone coming after Cameron is. Most people like her.”
I nodded. “What’s the deal with the punk who came in here yesterday? Bobby.”
She rolled her eyes. “Bobby Spencer. Milton Spencer is his father; he founded the company. Bobby’s annoying but basically harmless. He’s never worked here, and he doesn’t have any actual power, but he likes to come in here and waste people’s time and bother Cameron.”
“He sounds like a pain in the ass.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“What about his father? Retired?”
“Yep, he retired when Cameron took over. He’s pretty old and now he spends most of his time on his yacht. I haven’t actually seen him in about two years.”
Something about Bobby Spencer bothered me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe it was Cameron’s obvious dislike of him.
“Did Bobby have any objections to Cameron taking over?”
“Not that I’ve heard. He actually comes to the office a lot more now than he did when his father was in charge.”
I wrote down a few more notes.
“Do you really think Cameron’s in danger?” she asked.
“Maybe. Hiring me might turn out to be overkill and nothing else happens to her. Really, that’s the hope. I don’t mind being put out of a job; it’s better for her. But if she is, I’ll take care of it.”
She smiled. “Good. Sorry if I was harsh with you.”
“You weren’t. Thanks for the sandwich. And the information. It helps me do my job.”
“Sure. Did the calendar syncing work?”
I tapped my phone. “All set. And full disclosure, I put a tracking app on her phone. And yes, she knows it’s there.”
“Smart. Well, let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do. Glad to be on Team Cameron.”
Her wide smile made a little ding go off in my head, like a signal on a game show that a player had scored a point. Ally acquired.
She went to her desk, and I started adding information to my growing file on Cameron Whitbury. I’d look into Reese Howard Aviation—corporate espionage was always a possibility—but my gut was telling me that wasn’t it. This felt personal.
Which was why her ex-boyfriend was one of the people at the top of my list. As was Noelle Olson.
Now I needed to show Cameron—and Brandy—that thei
r tentative trust in me wasn’t misplaced, and track down who was fucking with the boss lady. Preferably before they did it again.
9
Cameron
Having Jude as a bodyguard was a lot like being followed around by a brick wall. If the brick wall smelled intensely masculine and seemed to possess the ability to melt into the background like a chameleon. How a man his size could move with so much grace and dexterity, and make people forget he was there, I had no idea.
I also had no idea how he smelled so good. It was very distracting. I’d almost asked Brandy if she’d noticed it too, but stopped myself. The last thing I needed was Brandy joining my girlfriends in predicting how long it would take before I slept with Jude.
Or more specifically, before I let him fuck me senseless on my desk, as Daisy had so eloquently put it.
I blamed her—and Luna and Emily—for putting the idea in my head. If they hadn’t been teasing me about Jude, I wouldn’t have found myself staring past my screen, imagining that very thing.
“Cameron?” Brandy leaned in through my partially open door.
Hoping she hadn’t said my name more than once, I clicked my mouse a few times, as if there were something other than a totally unprofessional sex fantasy occupying my attention. “Yes?”
“Do you need anything before I head home?”
I glanced at the time. It was almost six. Where had the day gone? “No, I don’t think so. Have a great weekend.”
“Thanks.” She looked over her shoulder, then back at me. “So do you get to bring Mr. Incredible with you everywhere this weekend?”
“Apparently if I want to leave my house, I have to.”
“It won’t be that bad.”
My eyes darted to Jude. He’d been here all week and true to his word, he’d been remarkably unobtrusive. I didn’t even see him all the time when I was in the office. Often he was at his desk, but sometimes I’d glance up to find it empty. I assumed he stayed in the building, but at least he didn’t stand guard over me every second of the day.
When I went offsite, he came with me. He insisted on walking ahead of me into restaurants, and he’d even checked underneath the table before my lunch meeting yesterday. I was pretty sure he did things like that to screw with me. His expression hardly changed, but there was a hint of fuckery in his eyes.
I kind of liked it.
But I was still chafing at the idea of needing a chaperone on my personal time.
“It adds a layer of complication,” I said.
“Do you actually have plans this weekend?”
“What do you mean, actually? My schedule is always packed. You know this. You’re usually the one packing it.”
She shrugged. “I meant personal plans. Not for work.”
I wanted to argue with her—particularly with what she was implying—but I couldn’t. I was busy, even on weekends. But that typically meant some combination of working at home, coming into the office, and attending events that were for networking, not personal enjoyment. Other than my monthly brunch and occasional wine nights in with my girlfriends, I rarely did anything that wasn’t work-related. Not lately, at least.
“Still,” I said, rolling my eyes at my own non-argument. “Now I have to coordinate my schedule with his.”
“I’m sure that’s very challenging when he has full access to your calendar.”
“Do I need to fire you again?”
“Now would be a good time,” she said, “since I’m on my way home anyway. You know, if I were you, I’d just move him in with me. You have plenty of space. Can you imagine coming downstairs in the morning and finding him in nothing but pajama pants making coffee?”
“That’s very specific. And you’re very married.”
“That’s why I said if I were you. Besides, I’m married, not dead. I can still enjoy the view.”
“I take it you’ve been enjoying the view all week.”
“Job perks,” she said, her voice cheerful. “Plus, I like him. He’s funny.”
“Funny?” That seemed like a stretch. He was quick with a comeback, but I wasn’t sure I’d have called him funny. “I think you mean stoically unflappable. He’s a brick wall.”
Her smile seemed to say you’ll see. “Well, have a good weekend with your brick wall.”
“Give Mateo kisses from Auntie Cam,” I said.
“I will.”
Brandy left and I turned my attention back to my computer. My stomach rumbled—when had I last eaten?—but I needed to check a few more things off my list before I went home. Thankfully I had Nicholas’s cooking to look forward to when I got there. Fridays were one of his days off, but he meal-prepped for me, so there was always something ready to go.
A message popped up on the corner of my screen.
Jude: Check in. Departure time?
Me: Not much longer. Do you have plans tonight?
Jude: Just walking you to your car.
Me: I meant after that.
Jude: No.
Funny, my ass. But now I was curious. What did Jude Ellis do on his own time?
Me: What about this weekend?
Jude: I keep my schedule clear when I have a client.
Me: That sounds like a pain. No wonder you keep trying to retire.
Jude: The hours are terrible.
Okay, maybe a little bit funny.
Me: I won’t be long.
Jude: Take your time.
* * *
Eight o’clock Saturday morning and I’d already had two cups of coffee, been tortured by Inda in my home gym, reviewed data from R&D, and answered thirty-two emails. Sleeping in didn’t exist in my world.
Except when the girls and I declared a Fuck-It Friday, cleared our schedules for twenty-four hours, shut ourselves in one of our houses, and gorged on terrible-for-you food and booze until we passed out. Although it had been a long time since we’d done that. Our lives seemed to keep getting busier and busier.
Feeling restless, I got up from my desk and wandered over to the window. My home office overlooked part of Bluewater. Palm trees. Bright green vegetation and colorful flowers. Someone was driving a golf cart along a trail—it was the preferred method of transportation in Bluewater—and a small plane took off from the airfield in the distance.
I could see Emily’s house and I wondered if she and Derek were enjoying a lazy Saturday morning together. They were probably dressed in matching bathrobes, feeding each other bites of breakfast out on the terrace.
It was possible I was a tiny bit jealous of my friend.
Not in a destructive, make-me-bitter-and-ruin-our-friendship way. I was beyond happy for her. But my no-longer-single friend reminded me of how single I was.
My phone buzzed, so I went back to my desk and checked. Another message from Noelle. She was upset about the financials. With a heavy sigh, I sat back down. That woman questioned everything I did. I wasted so much time typing diplomatic replies to her semi-aggressive emails. But I knew if I wasn’t careful with every word, she’d find a way to use them against me.
Half an hour later, I hit send on what I hoped was a sufficiently mollifying email. Not ten seconds later, my phone vibrated again, buzzing against the surface of my desk. I was almost afraid to look, but thankfully it wasn’t an instant angry reply from Noelle.
Brandy: How many hours have you worked today?
Me: Why are you checking up on me?
Brandy: Because you need a day off.
Me: Since when is nagging me about my schedule on a Saturday in your job description?
Brandy: Stop replying with questions. There’s nothing pressing on your calendar and it’s been a while since that happened. Get out of your office and go do something.
Me: I have a lot of work to do.
Brandy: It can wait.
Me: Why am I arguing with you?
Brandy: Because you’re stubborn. You know you need to get out of the house. Just call him. It’s his job.
I sighed. Brandy knew me too well.
It made her amazing at her job, but she also had a knack for calling me out.
I did want to get out of the house—out of Bluewater. I was unsettled and I knew exactly what that feeling meant. I’d been working too much. For nearly three years, my relationship with Aldrich had provided a natural defense against burnout. Dating him had forced me to have a life outside the office.
Of course, he hadn’t respected the fact that my job was just as important as his. But that was another issue. And one of the reasons we were no longer together.
Since our breakup, I’d focused the vast majority of my time and energy on work—even more than usual. Six months of that and I was starting to feel the effects. Add to that the usual aggravation of dealing with Noelle, plus the parking garage incident, and I was like a rubber band being pulled too tight.
But now I felt a bit like a kid who’d been grounded. I knew it was irrational. No one was keeping me from leaving my house. But it irritated me that I couldn’t just go somewhere on a whim. Get in my car and go shopping by myself for a few hours.
Although, when was the last time I’d actually done that? I had a personal shopper because I was always too busy. And she was fabulous. But damn it, I wanted to go try on some shoes in a store.
Me: Fine, you’re probably right. But don’t get cocky about it.
Brandy sent a gif of a rooster strutting down a sidewalk.
I pulled up Jude’s number and sent him a text.
Me: I’m leaving the enclave and could use a big guy who doesn’t talk much to follow me around. Know anyone?
Jude: I have a guy for that. He’s good.
Okay fine, he was funny.
Me: Meet me at my house in an hour?
Jude: Destination?
Me: Shoe shopping. I’ll drive.
Jude: No problem.
10
Cameron
Weekend Jude managed to surprise me.
He arrived at my house precisely fifty-five minutes after our last text. On a vintage Indian motorcycle.
Damn him.
I loved motorcycles. I loved men on motorcycles. I had a not-so-secret obsession with a TV series about a motorcycle gang and their very sexy and compellingly complicated leader. I read deliciously unrealistic motorcycle club romances.
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