Black Dog Security- Complete 5-Part Series

by Camilla Blake

  I sat at the table they were all at, next to Mercer, and bumped fists with him. “You doing all right?”

  He nodded. His face said that was a lie. He had dark bags under his eyes and he looked ten years older than he had just a week earlier. He sat forward in his seat with his hands balled up on the table. His knuckles were white from the force of his grip.

  I rolled my shoulders and tried to let some of my own tension go. It was a fruitless task, but I had to try.

  Across from me, Vince guzzled from a large cup of coffee. “Long night? You look like shit.”

  I scowled. “We all look like shit. What’s new?”

  Tucker made a face. “I, for one, do not look like shit. I spent the night with a pretty nurse from Memphis last night.”

  “I noticed you’d lost that fresh-faced virgin look. Good for you, man.” Vince grinned and stretched out in his chair. The metal creaked under his weight and I watched closely, not wanting to miss it if he fell.

  “You’re all so immature.” Lauren rolled her eyes. “Here comes Cooper.”

  Sure enough, the sound of tires on gravel came from the back of the building and a few seconds later, the door opened. Cooper held the door open and let Sonnie come in before him. They’d both just gotten over a nasty case of a stomach virus, but they both looked happier than ever. I’d never seen Cooper smile so much.

  Sonnie giggled at something he said and then looked over at us. “Hey! It’s a little early for a party, isn’t it?”

  Cooper sat in one of the remaining metal chairs and pulled Sonnie into his lap. “That’s how Lauren does it. Because she doesn’t sleep, no one can sleep.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes, and glanced down the table at Mercer. It was a quick glance, but it was hard to miss. The worry coming off of her was intense. “Funny. Anyway, we’ve got a new job. I know we’re all a little spread thin right now with the new jobs we’ve taken on, but this one will be part-time.”

  “Why only part-time?” I rested my elbows on the table and watched Lauren frown.

  “Well, her manager is setting it up and they only want someone there during the day, when her husband isn’t home.”

  Sonnie sat forward. “Manager? Who is she? Someone famous?”

  “You have a manager.”

  “True.” Sonnie sighed. “But is she famous?”

  Lauren laughed. “Kind of. Charlotte Crier. Do you recognize the name?”

  I was just as blank as the other men around the table. Sonnie seemed to recognize her, though.

  Clapping her hands together, Sonnie’s smile was almost as wide as her head. “Charlotte Crier is not kind of famous. She is famous. She’s our local Martha Stewart. She can turn anything, even trash, into the most beautiful centerpiece.”

  “Why would you want to turn trash into a centerpiece?”

  “What’s a centerpiece?” Tucker’s face was pure confusion, making Sonnie giggle.

  “Maybe not trash. But she is so talented. She has a blog that’s blown up in the last couple of years and she even goes on TV shows now.”

  Cooper wrapped his arms around his new girlfriend. “Do I have to be jealous of this Charlotte Crier?”

  “You need to be jealous of everyone. Eventually Sonnie is going to wise up and realize that you’re a dud.” Vince winked at Sonnie. “And I’ll be there for you when you dump him.”

  Lauren snapped her notebook open and cleared her throat after casting another worried look at Mercer, who still hadn’t spoken. “There was another agency in charge of her security, but apparently there were some problems.”

  “Problems?” I leaned forward. Problems could mean an exciting job.

  “It seems that Mrs. Crier isn’t a huge fan of having security.”

  I sat back. “It sounds like a perfect job for Tucker.”

  “Afraid not. Tucker wouldn’t last one day. Mrs. Crier needs someone who can grin and bear it. Someone like you, Branson.”

  “I do not grin and bear anything.”

  “You’re the best at dealing with angry people.” Lauren slipped a piece of paper from the front of her notebook and slid it down the table to me. “And while Mrs. Crier may not be angry, she’s going to take someone with a lot of patience. That’s you.”

  I looked down at the printed sheet with Charlotte Crier’s information on it. It wasn’t my dream job. Babysitting a lady with a centerpiece talent and an attitude wasn’t my thing. It was a job, though. A business had to have jobs in order to run. Sighing, I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket. “When do I start?”

  “Tomorrow.” She sighed. “Now, we need to talk about Mercer.”

  Mercer growled from his seat and shook his head. “No fucking way. You said it was just about the jobs.”

  Lauren’s cheeks went red, so unlike her, and she quietly closed her notebook. “The police aren’t going away. They’ve already done one search and they want to do another.”

  Cooper moved Sonnie to the chair beside him and shook his head. “What the fuck are they doing? They want to search again? How? Why?”

  “Can they do that? They’ve already filled all the searches on the first warrant.” Vince slapped the table. “I’m about sick of this bullshit.”

  Mercer stood up and shoved his chair in. “Me, fucking too. It’s fine. It won’t go anywhere because there’s nowhere to go.”

  “Mercer—”

  “I’ve got work to do.” Mercer headed off towards the front offices, his back stiff and his ever-present limp more aggravated than normal.

  Lauren stood up and pushed her chair in. “Mrs. Crier’s address is on that paper, Branson. Be there at seven in the morning.”

  We all watched as she hurried after Mercer. On crazy high heels, she practically sprinted after the man.

  “What are we going to do about this?” Tucker sounded more stressed than I’d heard him in a while.

  “Wait until they make another move. There’s nothing we can do. Not yet, at least.”

  I looked at Vince and nodded. “That’s what we do, then. I have a call in to my guy at the station, but it’s not looking good. His loyalty isn’t going to be split. If they really think Mercer killed that girl, he won’t help.”

  “Fuckers are barking up the wrong tree.” Cooper shook his head and blew out a rough breath. “Mercer loved Jessica. He never would’ve hurt her.”

  As silence settled over the table, I wondered if all of us men were thinking about that weekend he came back. He’d been beyond upset. We all knew he couldn’t have hurt her, though. While a killer in the battlefield, Mercer was gentle outside of it. Well, he had been, before the bomb.

  Chapter 3

  Elizabeth

  My alarm blared too early the next morning and I hit snooze a few too many times. My head was throbbing from drinking the night before and I felt like I’d raked my tongue over asphalt. By the time I got out of bed and got showered, I was already late for work. When I realized how late it was, I kicked it into high gear and rushed through the rest of my routine.

  I hurried out of the door after eight and nearly tripped over the homeless man who liked to sleep in front of my building. I jabbed my hand in my jacket pocket and searched for a few dollars. One pocket. Another pocket. Nothing.

  “I’ll bring you back something this afternoon, Hank!” I hurried down the street, keeping an eye on the traffic moving past. I would hail a cab if I saw one, but as luck would have it, I saw none.

  I reached the office and was sweaty and feeling like vomiting. I hadn’t even had all that much to drink the night before. My liver just couldn’t handle the party life like it could when I was in my early twenties. That sucked.

  I rushed past Greg’s replacement, Steven, at the security desk, and hurried into an elevator. I leaned against the elevator wall and caught my breath. Feeling out of shape and like I was dying, I hadn’t thought twice about Helena Stelton or Paul Porter since waking up.

  As the elevator doors slid open at the top floor, however, I
was nearly face to face with Helena. The memory came back and my face flamed while I tried to think of an appropriate thing to say while my brain was shouting about kinky sex.

  Helena was almost the spitting image of her late father. Tall and thin, with tanning-bed-tanned skin and bottle-blond hair, she was a lot to take in. She was pretty, but there was something harsh to the angles of her face that was distracting. She always wore pantsuits and covered her body in a modest way. That was another reason the night before had been so shocking. I’d never seen her in less than pants, a blouse, and a blazer before. Her outfits were usually completed with a set of pearls and a diamond ring the size of a clementine, instead of a man between her legs.

  “Er… Hi.” It wasn’t my finest. I was willing to admit that.

  “Ms. Shore. Are you just getting in for the day?” Helena’s voice was as cold as ever. She allowed for no friendliness between herself and employees.

  I thought about lying, but I was so thrown off by the images in my head that I couldn’t think of anything but the truth. “I’m running late this morning. Sorry, Mrs. Stelton.”

  She stared down at me and then brushed a bored look over my outfit. What I thought was cute, a black pencil skirt and a dressy top, she obviously found less than. When her pale-blue eyes met mine again, they were practically shooting out ice. “Don’t let it happen again. I know my father didn’t accept tardiness and I won’t, either.”

  I had to bite my tongue hard. It wasn’t in my nature to lie down and take that kind of attitude, but there I was, forced to expose my belly and play the lowly secretary to Helena’s god. “Yes, ma’am. Of course not.”

  “And just a hint, woman to woman: pantyhose could really do you good if you’re going to wear short skirts.”

  I had to step out of the way as she pushed forward, onto the elevator. Standing there with my mouth hanging open, I watched the elevator doors slide closed and then whoosh Helena away to whatever hell she was going to create.

  I shook my head and turned to go to my office. I satisfied the burning anger at her rudeness with the fact that I was going to go downstairs as soon as I could and tell Sammie and Devon that Helena was porking Paul.

  My office was set up the same as Brenda’s and I prayed that Mr. Caldwell had never done to my office what Helena had done to Brenda’s. My desk was positioned in the middle of the office, in front of the door to his office, a sort of guard from the unwanted.

  I dropped my purse on top of my desk and peeked into Mr. Caldwell’s office. I expected to see him looking up from his desk at me, but his desk was empty. I looked at my desk for a note he might’ve left, but there was nothing. Hurrying into his office, I looked around his desk and spotted a note from Sarah, Mr. Hill’s secretary, mentioning that Mr. Caldwell was in a meeting with her boss.

  She’d timed the note and I saw that I had some time left before he would be back in his office looking for me. I hurried to the stairs, anything to avoid running into Helena again, and took them down to the fourth floor.

  Underwriting took up the whole floor and there were offices that lined the outer walls and a big area in the middle filled with desks and cubicles that they jokingly called the ER. Underwriting was always buzzing with energy and emergencies. I had never been in the ER when things weren’t chaotic.

  Sammie and Devon worked next to each other. They’d arranged it that way years before by tricking some nice guy into switching desks with Sammie. I didn’t know how they got anything done.

  I was hurrying past the elevator when the doors slid open. I looked, on instinct, and spotted Bennie Victor, President of Sales, standing next to two uniformed police officers. Bennie looked stressed, while the officers looked grim.

  I looked away and hurried to the center of the ER, where Sammie and Devon were standing together at the wall their cubicles shared. Sammie was in her vintage dress with Mary Janes and pin-curled hair. She was a blast from the past. Devon, on the other hand, greeted me in form-fitted slacks and a button-down dress shirt that had to be designer.

  I turned to stare at the elevator bank with them and made a confused noise. “Wonder what that’s all about. Do you think Ben finally snapped and just trashed his office? Complete with broken window and poop smeared on the walls?”

  “Don’t say poop.”

  “Oh, my God. Don’t I just wish?” Devon shook his head and nodded at a desk on the other side of the room, where slight female crying could be heard. “You’re never going to guess what happened.”

  “I can say poop if I want. And I never will guess. You know I don’t do guessing games very well. Just tell me and I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “They found Paul Porter outside of his house in Logan’s Circle. Dead.”

  “I want to know how he could afford a house in Logan’s Circle. I mean, Daniel and I looked there for about a minute. It was insanely expensive.”

  “Jesus, Sammie. You’d think you were the cold one. I just said a man was dead and you’re ready to kick his corpse to the curb to get inside his house.”

  “Technically, he was already on the curb.”

  Devon snorted and Sammie covered her mouth to hide a giggle. All the while, my head was practically spinning and the room swayed.

  “What do you mean?”

  Sammie put her hand to my forehead and frowned. “I mean they found him on the curb in front of his house. Are you okay? You feel clammy.”

  “Paul Porter? The asshole from sales? Thick hair, pretty eyes, big muscles? That Paul Porter?” I felt bad calling a potential dead man an asshole, but that was his most known trait.

  “Ew. Don’t say he has pretty eyes. Did you sleep with him, too? Dear God, Elizabeth. I thought you’d stopped stooping that low after Jamie McCormick. You’re not going to start crying like Paula over there, are you?”

  I scowled at Devon. “You know I didn’t sleep with him. He was a walking STD. I meant what I said about not having any last night. Can you say the same?”

  “Whoa! Someone’s on her period.”

  I shoved my finger in Devon’s face. “I will end you.”

  Sammie giggled again and rolled her eyes at us. “Play nice.”

  Devon frowned for a second before grinning at me. “Friends?”

  “Friends. Now tell me what the fuck is going on.”

  “It’s just what I said. Paul Porter is dead. No more. Gone to see the big man upstairs. In another dimension. Flying with angels. However you want to say it. The man is as dead as roadkill.”

  Sammie pulled a sour face. “You have such a way with words.”

  Their conversation faded as I started to panic. I’d definitely seen Paul in the office with Helena just the night before. Late. Really late. Had he left and then died after making it home?

  “How did he die? When did he die?” My voice sounded weird to my own ears.

  “Girl, are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass out.” Devon mimicked Sammie and put his hand to my head. “You’re being strange. I don’t know how he died. No one’s said anything about that. But I heard his neighbor found him when she was leaving to go for a run. Before six. Can you imagine? I would die if I had to run before six.”

  “You would die if you had to run. Period.”

  I felt a strange sense of dread wash over me as I replayed what I’d seen the night before. And then what I’d heard. When my mind went over that last sound I’d heard from Paul, it stuttered. It’d been pleasure—right?

  What if it hadn’t been pleasure? The sound rippled through my mind over and over again until I wanted to bang my head against the floor. It’d been a kind of cry that I wasn’t sure was pleasure. Hearing it again in my head, I was terrified that it hadn’t been pleasure.

  I’d come down to tell them about Paul sleeping with Helena, but suddenly I couldn’t open my mouth. Not about Paul and definitely not about Helena.

  “What’s wrong with you, Elizabeth?”

  I looked at Sammie and shook my head. “Nothing. I have to run.
I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

  I hurried out of the maze and went straight to the stairs. I hoofed it up to the top floor and threw myself into my desk chair. There was another note from Sarah, asking me to call her to chat. The idea of doing anything besides breathing seemed overwhelming in that moment.

  “Is Mr. Caldwell in?”

  I looked up and let out a little screech. Helena Stelton stood in my doorway, her hands on her hips. I wanted to crawl under my desk and hide. The thoughts in my head were too insane to even admit I was thinking them.

  I knew she’d asked me something, but I didn’t know what it was. I felt like she could see into my head. I worried that she knew that I’d heard and seen her the night before.

  “Ms. Shore. I asked you a question. Is Mr. Caldwell in?”

  Embarrassingly, I had to turn around and look through his open door. He wasn’t in. I looked back at her and shook my head. I didn’t trust my voice. I felt like I would scream in her face if I opened my mouth.

  She stared at me for a few more moments and then shook her head. “You need to do better, Ms. Shore. Our top secretaries are expected to be the best.”

  I nodded and bit my tongue. I still didn’t trust myself to speak. Even after she walked away, I sat there nodding.

  Looking around my office, I realized I was too freaked out to sit there for the rest of the day, pretending to laugh at Mr. Caldwell’s jokes and ignoring the way he looked down my shirt. I couldn’t do it.

  There I was, sitting in the building that Helena Stelton owned, wondering if she could’ve done to Paul what I was thinking she did to Paul. It was insanity. There was no way she murdered him. Not just no way but no fucking way.

  I scribbled a note to Mr. Caldwell that I wasn’t feeling well and then called Sarah and told her the same thing. Then I hurried down to the stairs and took them all the way down to the ground floor. Rushing out of the Stelton Firm, I sucked in a deep breath of fresh air and hailed a cab. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  I climbed in the back of the cab that pulled over for me and gave my address. I just wanted to go home and hide under my covers. I really wanted the sound of Paul either coming or going to get the hell out of my head. I was so freaked out by it that I was willing to ask the cab driver to turn up whatever EDM he was listening to.