by L A Dobbs
Deadly Betrayal
Rockford Security Series Book 1
L. A. Dobbs
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Also by L. A. Dobbs
About the Author
1
“Broken bones and misdemeanor charges. Is that how you typically end your cases?”
Blake Rockford leaned across his pristine desk and gave Dino Machiavelli his most intimidating glare. Dino remained unmoved. Wasn’t the first time he’d received what Blake’s family members and confidants jokingly referred to as The Hurt. Wouldn’t be the last either, Dino was sure. He adjusted the front of his black leather jacket and sighed, the chair squeaking softly as he leaned back.
After several silent seconds, Blake eased back in his seat and picked up the police report on his desk once more. “You put the guy in the hospital, Dino.”
“He beat that jockey unconscious. I had to do something.” Nothing pissed him off more than bullies, and that asshole client from his last job at Rockford Security had most definitely been a bully. The guy had outweighed his smaller opponent by at least fifty pounds, not to mention he’d stood almost a foot taller. So Dino had stepped in, trying to even the odds. And yeah, he used his fists to do it. “I was acting on instinct, man. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I know. That’s the problem.”
Awkward silence filled the air. The sound of pages spitting out of the copy machine down the hall ticked off the seconds as Blake continued to peruse the police report and Dino stewed in the consequences of his rash behavior. Okay, so maybe he’d lost control a little, but he couldn’t stand by and not help someone who needed it. What was he supposed to do? Just let the guy get busted up ... end up in the hospital with a list of broken bones, and possibly a ruined career? No, Dino couldn’t do that, he’d been using his size and strength to show bullies they couldn’t win all his life, and he wasn’t going to stop now.
In his youth, that had gotten him into lots of fights. Back then he’d punched first and thought about it later. But now that he was past thirty he liked to think he had a tighter rein on his temper. He was in control of his actions. Now he only let his fists do the talking when there was no other way. When not stepping in meant someone else would suffer.
That made him a better man than his father, right?
Dino’s thoughts darkened as he remembered that his dad had gotten into plenty of fights, too. Put men in the hospital, or worse. All because of his uncontrollable fury. But that’s not what had happened with the client. Dino had been in control, knowing exactly why he was throwing those punches, hadn’t he? Fear knotted deep in Dino’s gut. Maybe his motives weren’t as chivalrous as he’d tried to pretend they were.
“He’s suing us.” Blake glanced up at him again over the top of the paper. “One hundred grand plus medical expenses. Maybe I should dock that from your pay. Oh, wait. You don’t make that much. Guess I should fire you, then.”
Shit.
Dino looked away, his jaw clenched. He couldn’t afford to get fired. Not now, not with a new mortgage and old student loans after his football scholarship had fallen through. Football and security were the only two things he knew how to do, and since a bad injury stole his future glory his sophomore year of college, football was out. Groveling wasn’t usually in his nature, but it didn’t look like he had much choice. Plus, much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want to disappoint Blake. Not again. “I’m sorry.”
“Excuse me?” Blake frowned, his icy-blue stare narrowed. “I don’t think I heard that.”
Of course, his best friend wouldn’t make this easy. Dino exhaled slowly. “I said I’m sorry.”
“I see. For what?”
“What do you mean for what?” He did his best to keep a lid on his agitation. “For getting the company sued.”
“But not for beating the guy up?”
“No.”
Blake shook his head. “You always were a sucker for an underdog.”
“Somebody has to be.” He wished somebody would’ve helped him growing up, taken his side against his drunken father’s harsh words and battering fists. Protected him. Dino curled his fingers tighter, the residual ache and bruised skin over his knuckles a reminder and a warning to control his anger before it controlled him. His dad had never been able to control it. Then again, Dino reminded himself, he wasn’t his father. Genetics didn’t determine destiny.
He closed his eyes and refocused on the task at hand—keeping his job. “Look, I can’t afford to lose my job. Can’t you shuffle me to another assignment? Put me somewhere out of the limelight? Somewhere safe and quiet and boring until this all dies down?”
They’d been best friends since high school, since Blake’s family had taken him in like one of their own. He and Blake were like brothers. You couldn’t fire your brother, right?
“I said I should fire you,” Blake said. He let his head fall back against his black leather office chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “But I won’t. This time.”
For the first time since he’d walked into the offices of Rockford Security that morning, Dino’s day started looking up. He took a deep breath and smiled, his tense shoulders relaxing a tad beneath his plain white T-shirt. “Thanks, man.”
“But if this ever happens again.” Blake looked at him, The Hurt intensifying to the visual equivalent of a whip crack. “If it happens again, you’re done. Understand?”
“Understood.” He owed the Rockfords more than he could ever repay, and Blake—in particular—his life. No way would he have survived high school, let alone his horrific home life without them. Without Blake. “And I really am sorry.”
“I know.” Blake sat forward again and opened one of his desk drawers, withdrawing a new client folder. “And speaking of safe, quiet, and boring. I have just the case for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Blake chuckled. “I was wondering who to stick this with, and now I know. It’s perfect really. Right up your alley.”
From his friend’s droll tone, Dino imagined the case must be a real doozy. “What is it? Old lady with a missing cat? Junk car repo?”
“Better.”
“Better?”
“Oh, yeah. You’ll love this one.” Blake sat forward, scanning the contents of the folder. “Bodyguard.”
“Aw, man.” Dino scrunched his nose. “C’mon. Don’t make me play babysitter. You know I hate that.” He crossed his arms and slumped down in his seat. “Can’t you give it to Jace?” He glanced out the floor-to-ceiling glass that made up the front wall of Blake’s office and spotted the black sheep of the Rockford family kicked back at a desk with his signature fedora pulled low over his eyes. “Doesn’t look like he’s doing anything important at the moment.”
“Jace is working on a special project for me.”
“Yeah? Looks like right now he’s working on a nap.”
Blake leaned to the side to see past Dino, frowning. Then he sat back and closed the file. “I’ll deal with him later. First, I
want to get you up to speed on this case.”
“Do I have to?”
“Do you want to keep your job or not?”
Yeah, I do. Dino swallowed what was left of his pride and gave a small nod.
“Good.” Blake grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. “Let me just make a few notes here first.”
Dino shifted in his seat and stared at the Rockford family portrait on the wall behind the desk. They’d always been such a tight-knit group, a picture-perfect family with two doting parents and six kids—four boys and two girls. So different from his own life—only child, mom dead when he was six, violent father.
The Rockfords had been one of the few bright spots in his crappy childhood. Blake’s parents had always included him in everything as if he were family. Blake was the brother he’d never had. The two of them had been inseparable, navigating the rough teenage years together. The fights, the partying ... and, of course, the girls.
Blake had been there to celebrate his pro-football victories and help him through the toughest time of his life—when the knee injury ended his football career. He’d do anything for Blake. Even if it meant babysitting some spoiled celebrity.
They’d raised hell together, but most importantly, Blake had been someone he could confide in. Someone he could talk to about his hopes and dreams. A friend who’d helped him drink away the loneliness from that one special girl that broke his heart. The one that still made Dino’s chest ache even fifteen years later.
“Okay.” Blake tossed his pen aside and clasped his hands on the desk, his expression both placid and calculating. The ache in Dino’s chest slowly gave way to dread. That expression was never a good thing. “Your new client seems to have a stalker.”
Dino rolled his eyes. He was surprised at how many rich people thought they had stalkers. It usually turned out they were just paranoid, or making it up to get attention. Especially if they were public figures or celebrities. And attention-seeking celebrities were the worst kind of client to babysit.
Dino crossed his arms again, eager to get this meeting over with and get on with his day. “Just tell me who this rich guy is I’ll be following around like a dog on a leash.”
Given the firm’s wealthier clients and their penchant for wild shenanigans, it would probably be a very short leash too. Yippee. At least he still had a job and a steady paycheck coming in, he reminded himself.
“It’s a rich girl, actually.”
A diva? Even better. Blake must really be pissed at him to punish him this much.
“She’s an entertainer.”
“Have I heard of her?”
“Yeah, you have.” The corners of Blake’s lips quirked up in a way that sent warning signals jolting through Dino’s brain.
Dino searched his memory banks for girls in the entertainment business that might cause Blake this much glee in foisting on him. There was that one magician’s assistant that had turned all Fatal Attraction after Dino had tried to break things off like he did with every girl before they got too close. But he didn’t think she would be able to afford a bodyguard. “Do I get a name, or is she going incognito for this job?”
“Sure.” Blake thumbed through the file again then closed it, set it flat on the desk, and looked up at Dino. “Her name is Jan.”
“Jan? Jan who?” Panic clutched at Dino’s chest. There were lots of Jans in the entertainment business. Surely Blake couldn’t mean ... he wouldn’t...
Blake slid the file all the way across the desk and sat back in his chair, watching Dino closely. “January Winters.”
Dino felt like someone kicked him in the gut. Maybe there was another January Winters?
He blinked across the desk at Blake, and his heart sank. From the spark of curious sympathy in his best friend’s stare, he knew it wasn’t someone else.
It was her.
His Jan.
The girl who had ripped out his heart.
But Jan wouldn’t lie about having a stalker. At least not the Jan he used to know. And there was nothing Dino hated more than someone who skulked around in the shadows sending threats and notes, watching and waiting to attack. Sure, most of them didn’t escalate, but if there really was a stalker, he would never forgive himself if he didn’t do what he could to put that person away. Another reason, he had to take the job, though the thought of taking the job made something tighten deep in the pit of his stomach.
Suddenly, Dino didn’t know what he was more afraid of, chasing down a stalker or seeing Jan Winters again.
2
“Crap,” January Winters mumbled to herself as she stared at the screen of her phone, cuddling down farther inside the softness of her beige cashmere cardigan. “Not again.”
She’d hoped the messages she’d started receiving the week before had been a mistake, a fluke, a misdial. But they’d gotten worse, more frequent, and now they were starting to freak her out.
She reached out for the comfort of the paper cup that held her caramel macchiato even as the smell of burnt coffee assaulted her nose. Someone had forgotten to refill the coffee maker in the studio kitchenette. Again. Which was why she always stopped at the corner coffee shop. The brew at the studio was for emergencies only. But this morning, when she stopped there she’d felt that odd sensation of being watched. The same sensation she’d felt in her house the other night.
She was probably just paranoid. Overreacting. Letting the stupid e-mails get to her. She hated the way it made her feel vulnerable. But she couldn’t shake that strange feeling of foreboding. That feeling of being watched in the coffee shop. Even the tiny hairs on the back of her neck had stood on end, just like they were doing now…
“What are you frowning about, cupcake?” a voice beside her startled her. Lou. Her manager, not some weird stalker.
“Nothing.” She tucked her phone away in the back pocket of her jeans then turned to him with her brightest, and therefore fakest, smile. “Nothing at all.”
Lou gave her a pointed look before returning his attention to the contracts he was signing with one hand while typing a response to an e-mail with the other. All the while, the beats of the latest track from her upcoming album throbbed through his earbuds, loud enough that she could pick up the rhythm from two feet away. Good old Lou took multitasking to a whole new level. The record producer, a young guy who looked about twelve, stood near Lou’s elbow on the opposite side, his expression hopeful, awaiting Lou’s verdict on the song mix.
Jan stifled a chuckle at the kid’s overeager attitude. He was still trying to make a name for himself in the music business, and landing her as a client had been his biggest break thus far. She’d been in his shoes once too and could certainly sympathize. Lou was a tough critic though, and if the kid was looking for easy praise, he wouldn’t find it from Lou. Lord knows she hadn’t.
The phone buzzed in her pocket again, and she hesitated before pulling it out once more. The same unidentified number popped up, and the ball of unease in her stomach knotted a tiny bit tighter.
“Okay. Seriously?” Lou yanked the earbuds from his ears and stood. “What is with your phone? You’re looking at it like you just found out they discontinued your favorite nail polish color.”
Jan sighed. She didn’t wear nail polish, only French manicures, which Lou would know if he paid the least bit of attention to her beyond her studio output. Not that she was complaining or needy. Jan was a loner—she didn’t need a lot of attention, and she was fine with their business relationship just the way it was. Lou handled her music career, and she handled her personal life.
He never asked her about what happened outside the studio, and she never pried into his private business. Besides, when she’d casually mentioned the mysterious phone calls and the e-mails and texts last week he’d blown her off, telling her not to worry about it.
"It’s nothing, like I told you. I just got another one of those hang-ups again.” She set the phone aside and tightened the belt of her sweater then straightened the collar of the white cott
on dress shirt beneath. “Besides, what are you, the phone police today?”
“How many?”
“How many what?”
“How many hang-up calls have you gotten?”
“Today?”
Lou cursed and ran a hand through his thinning black hair. “What about the e-mails?”
“What about them?”
“Are you still receiving those too?”
She bit her lip and looked away. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Yes, okay.” She gave him an annoyed stare. “I got another one this morning.”
Lou frowned at her phone, his eyes growing serious. "I figured you were still getting them. That’s why your voice has been off. That’s why you have no energy in the recording booth."
His words surprised her, she hadn’t realized he’d been so observant about her singing. In fact she’d thought he’d been rather preoccupied with something other than studio business lately. She hadn’t realized that he really had taken her seriously when she mentioned the calls before. Now that she thought about it, she had been underperforming. She’d been letting the calls and e-mails affect her, and that had to stop. Jan was serious about her career. It was all she had—all she’d ever wanted—she couldn’t let some stupid phone calls and e-mails screw it up.
Lou stepped around the record producer still lingering at his side and stalked across the recording studio. “You’ve got your first stalker. Guess that means you’ve hit the big time now, kiddo.”
“Stalker?” She glanced at the kid producer then headed over to Lou, her voice lowered. “What are you talking about? Last week you said not to worry about it. You said that it wasn’t a big deal.”
