Without Warning

by Reese Knightley

  He knew that, but didn’t bother correcting Shelby. Every camera placement was hand done by his staff. The level of care they took made them number one in the industry. It was also what made them damned good at what they did.

  Shelby guided him with a hand to his back the few steps to the elevator and punched the button.

  “Harrison, wait up!”

  Harrison turned as Toby hurried toward them.

  “Hey, Toby.” His voice wobbled at the sight of his friend.

  Toby looked him over from his face to his rumpled suit and filthy shirt. “What happened?” His friend stepped closer.

  “Someone hit me over the head,” he said, moving farther into the elevator.

  “Your face is scratched and your hand needs care,” Toby growled, followed them into the elevator, and placed a hand to his shoulder, turning him toward the light above.

  “Yeah.” He held his bloody palm up, but he was more concerned about the attack.

  “Shelby, can you pull the video feed from the parking garage?”

  “I can’t. The upgrade started today, remember? System and cameras. It’s going to take two weeks at least.”

  “Damn it.” He sighed shakily, having forgotten all about the upgrade. Which was odd, because it was a massive change. He felt like he was losing it. Shit. Shit. Don’t lose it here. Get back to your office before you break down.

  “Sorry, it started about two hours ago,” the team leader said quietly. Shelby stood a lot taller than him, almost as tall as Toby, and they both had a lot more muscle mass than him.

  Harrison felt instantly safe with the two bigger men as he glanced back through the elevator doors and into the dark parking garage.

  Where are you now when I have protection, you fucker? He punched the elevator button to his office floor.

  “What are you doing down here?” Harrison asked Toby.

  “Left this in my car earlier,” Toby said, holding up his cell phone.

  “Thank god you’re both here,” Harrison said. Releasing the breath he was holding, he leaned against the side of the elevator, looking at his protectors.

  Toby and Shelby ignored each other. For some reason, the two men didn’t like each other and he couldn’t figure out why. Because the pair worked in the same department, he’d once asked Toby about the issue, but all he got from Toby was that nobody liked Shelby.

  Harrison didn’t see it. Shelby was nice, efficient at his job, and his peer reviews were always excellent.

  The elevator zipped upward.

  “Hey, you’re shaking,” Shelby said as he turned toward Harrison. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  Okay? No. Definitely not.

  “It shook me up,” he finally admitted.

  Shelby stepped closer to Harrison. “We should get a drink after work. It’ll help you calm down.”

  Before he could gently turn Shelby down for the hundredth time, Toby interrupted.

  “Can’t you see he’s hurt?”

  “You told me someone hit your head, but how’d you cut your hand?” Shelby ignored Toby and frowned, reaching for his hand.

  “Hey, be careful.” Toby stepped forward.

  That finally got Shelby’s attention. Before another moment passed, the two men were standing chest to chest just as the elevator doors opened on the twenty-sixth executive floor.

  With his path blocked, he gave an irritated sigh. It wasn’t the first nor did he imagine the last time these two would butt heads.

  “Stop it right now,” he ordered tersely, out of patience.

  “Sorry, Har.” Toby looked contrite, nodded to Shelby, and stepped off the elevator.

  “Harrison?”

  “Yes?” He turned back around and Shelby was standing close. “Have you thought more on transferring him out of my department?” The man’s voice was low, making sure Toby didn’t hear.

  “I have, we’ll need to talk later about it.” He frowned. Shelby wanted Toby gone. It was clear that Shelby returned Toby’s dislike, but that didn’t mean Toby wasn’t good at his job. Okay, sure, Toby had a bit of a temper, but he’d never taken it out on anyone at Trudel Industries.

  Shelby opened his mouth as if to argue.

  “Mr. Trudel?”

  The head of the building’s security team, Brian Sanders, came down the hallway, cutting off any response from Shelby.

  Brian took one look at his disheveled appearance and face before the big man turned and scowled at Toby and then Shelby. “What is going on here?”

  “Hang on, Brian.” He tried to calm his head of security. “Shelby, we’ll talk later,” Harrison said.

  “Okay,” Shelby replied with a curt nod. “Have a good day.”

  “You too,” he said.

  Shelby hesitated before giving him a small smile and a half salute.

  Toby snorted from behind Harrison.

  Brian scowled again at Toby and then at Shelby.

  Toby leaned against a nearby wall and crossed his arms. Having missed the elevator, Shelby stabbed at the button on the wall.

  Harrison turned back toward Brian, cupping his injured palm in his other hand. “I had a bit of trouble. I called Renee, we need bulbs replaced in the parking garage downstairs.”

  “Your cheek is scratched and your shirt… That’s more than a bit of trouble,” Brian said abruptly, stepping closer and looking him over.

  “I was attacked and my car was vandalized. The lights are dim, and security wasn’t around. It’s a good thing Toby and Shelby were there, otherwise, I don’t know what would have happened.” He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth.

  “The security upgrade started this morning, I can’t look at the footage.” Brian scowled.

  “I know.”

  “What about the bulbs? Are they out or missing?” Brian questioned.

  “They’re all up there, but some of them are not working.” He rubbed the back of his good hand across his mouth. As if someone had unscrewed a few of them.

  “Okay, I’ll check it and place extra security in the parking garage. And I’ll inform the police.”

  “Thank you, Brian, but don’t worry about calling, I’ll have Marty call the police. They’ll want my statement. Then I’ll send them down to the garage and you.”

  “Very good then. Get that hand looked at.”

  “I will,” he said, giving a half smile.

  “I’ll ride down with you, Mr. Clark,” Brian told Shelby, who had just stepped inside of the elevator.

  The wound on Harrison’s hand stung more than anything, really. He’d stopped bleeding, and on closer inspection, it appeared shallow enough to not need stitches. The back of his head ached as he made his way through the reception area to the restrooms.

  Toby hurried over and entered the bathroom with him. Harrison walked straight for the sink.

  He studied himself in the mirror while he ran cold water over his scraped hand, washing away the crap from the wound. The scratch on his cheek was only a scrape he was sure would heal in a few days.

  His shirt and pants were ruined, the material of one knee ripped from where he’d fallen. The blood and red pasty strawberry substance on his white dress shirt wasn’t something he imagined would come out.

  Grabbing several paper towels, Toby placed them beneath his hand, bringing his attention back to the sink.

  “Thanks.” He shut off the water and hurried toward the door. Toby was there opening it for him.

  They moved back into the receptionist area. The room was circular with Marty’s desk at a central point facing the elevators. The woman was not at her desk.

  Office doors fanned out behind her desk. Each office was its own large room with windows that faced the Rocky Mountains. He’d personally helped with the redesign several years ago. The layout gave the space an open feeling.

  “Harrison! Oh my god, what happened?” Marty’s voice drew his head up as she hurried from the direction of the kitchen and approached him. He lifted a hand to press against
his throbbing head.

  “I was jumped in the parking garage and I cut my hand on a piece of glass,” he said with a tired sigh and brushed in vain at his stained shirt.

  “What? For goodness sake! Sit down in your office, I’ll get the kit.” Marty’s face was a mask of worry and fear. She hurried back into the kitchen that served as a break room.

  “Better call the police, someone did something to my car. And they hit me over the head,” he said, calling after her, but even raising his voice hurt. Shit, I’m starting to repeat myself.

  “Ow.” He grimaced.

  “Come on, in here.” Toby pulled the door open, and Harrison gratefully stepped through it and into his office.

  Easing into one of the two large chairs that sat in a small, cozy conference space inside his office, he leaned his head back.

  Marty rushed in a few moments later with the first aid kit and handed it to Toby. She took his car keys from him.

  “I called the police, and they said they’d send someone as soon as they can. I’ll have them check inside your vehicle.”

  Harrison stared at her. Had the attacker gotten inside his car? Drawing in a deep breath, he rubbed his good hand over his mouth and nodded.

  “Thanks, Marty.”

  Toby opened the first aid kit and Marty hurried out of the room.

  “I can do it,” he croaked.

  “Let me,” Toby insisted gently.

  He opened his mouth to argue, but suddenly ran out of energy. Relenting, he nodded and Toby knelt at his feet with the kit and gently took his hand. It felt nice having someone help him.

  “Your tie is frayed.” He pointed to the small tear at the edge of Toby’s gray silk tie.

  “Yeah, caught it in the zipper of the coveralls.”

  “Maybe I need to order bigger sizes.”

  “Might be a good idea.”

  “I want you to be nicer to Shelby,” he said.

  Toby frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I’m asking you to.”

  Toby squinted and tore off a piece of gauze.

  He grimaced and then winced when Toby started dabbing at the cut with antiseptic.

  “Okay, but the guy has it out for me,” Toby said.

  “What makes you say that?” Surely, Toby didn’t know about Shelby’s email to transfer him.

  Toby rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me? He criticizes my work and he’s jealous of us.”

  “Of our friendship?” He frowned.

  “Yeah. Think about it. How many times has he asked you out?”

  “A lot.”

  Toby shrugged. “Yet you never go.”

  “No, I don’t,” he murmured. He waited for Toby to explain, but the man dropped into silence.

  “There, all better,” Toby said a few moments later and secured the tape firmly on his hand. Harrison flexed his fingers and stared at the white gauze.

  He’d be stupid not to hire someone for protection after this, and keeping silent about his suspicions was no longer an option.

  Ryder

  The bastard wasn’t getting away from him this time!

  Sprinting around the corner of the two-story home, Ryder jumped over a small red bicycle and sprinted through the Colorado Springs early morning.

  The suspect jumped a fence and landed awkwardly, then broke into a running limp. Ryder was up and over the split rail fence and on the suspect’s ass in seconds. He leaped, closing the distance, and slammed into the guy’s back. The perp grunted and cursed when they hit the ground and skidded across the grass. Gritting his teeth, Ryder brought his arm down hard on the wrist that held the gun. The weapon flew from the guy’s grip and skittered over the edge of the curb, landing in the gutter.

  The suspect heaved beneath him, gasping for air. Sirens pierced the area and flashing lights whirled as the cops arrived. A moment later, the morning was filled with men shouting.

  “Get on the ground,” one cop yelled, which was stupid. They were already on the ground.

  Ryder grabbed one of the perp’s hands and then the other until they were behind his back. With a knee pressed to the guy’s back, Ryder slapped on the handcuffs.

  “I said get on the ground!” The high-pitched voice of what sounded like a rookie cop yelled this time.

  Ryder snorted and finally rolled off the suspect and onto his back in the grass. Panting for breath, he gazed up at the blue sky as the cops swarmed the now cuffed suspect and hauled the guy to his feet.

  The next second, the blue sky was blocked suddenly by the good-looking face of his partner, Felix Acosta.

  “Damn, Ryder, I didn’t think you could run that fast.”

  “Fuck you.” He smirked at his partner and let his friend pull him up.

  Felix barked with laughter and slapped him on the shoulder.

  Ryder winced and gripped his shoulder, and then swung his arm around in its socket to loosen up the muscles.

  “Good job, Freeman,” Lieutenant Paul Walsh said from where he stood leaning an arm on the open door of a police cruiser.

  “Thanks, Lieutenant, you slumming?” Ryder grinned. Walsh wasn’t usually found in the field.

  Walsh’s weathered face crinkled with laughter. “Nah. I was on my way to the station when I heard you were chasing down a suspect. I thought I’d see some action. See if you were as good as your old man.”

  Ryder grinned at his father’s long-time friend. “Nobody is as good as my old man.”

  Walsh’s laughter rang out again, and he slapped the top of the patrol car. “See you later,” Walsh said, sliding into the car and pulling out, following the patrol car that carried the suspect.

  A large white suburban pulled down the street and parked. A man got out and hurried over with his hand outstretched.

  “Mr. Freeman,” his current client said, coming toward him. “Thank you so much.”

  “Just doing my job, Mr. Phillips,” he said briefly and shook the client’s hand.

  “I’m glad for Cobalt Security. My brother and I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

  “Like I said, all in a day’s work.” He spun and stalked off, not wasting any time to gain distance between him and the client. He wasn’t taking up the offer he’d seen in the guy’s eyes from the first day he’d taken the job. He made it a point to never get personally involved with clients. He’d seen that happen to his friends, and it made shit messy.

  “Not going to collect your payment?” Felix grinned.

  “It’s direct deposit,” he grumbled at the overly chipper man.

  “I wasn’t talking about the money!”

  Ryder slid into the passenger side of his partner’s SUV and slammed the door, effectively cutting off Felix’s loud laugh.

  The morning was brisk when Felix dropped him back at his house. The three bedroom, two bath house sat nestled in the outskirts of Colorado Springs.

  Kicking the morning newspaper inside, he juggled the mail and his keys. Stepping through the door, he kicked it shut and dropped the mail on the counter. He shrugged off his leather jacket, tossed it onto the couch, and kicked off his boots near the door. Snatching up the mail again, he thumbed through it and wandered from the kitchen and into the living room.

  This was the best part, the time after a client had been kept safe from harm and the bad guy was headed to jail. Now, he could enjoy the rest of the day and just relax. Maybe he’d even take a few days off. He sure the fuck could use one.

  A large yellow envelope stuck out like a sore thumb from the stack of mail and he pulled it from the rest of the pile. His stomach soured at the return address. Ripping it open, he scanned through several legal documents.

  Tossing the finalized divorce papers onto the wood pile near the fireplace, he turned toward the front window and pushed the curtains aside to allow light into the room. The view was spectacular and once, not too long ago, he’d wanted to share it with someone special. Not now, though.

  He turned from the view. He might be legally divorced,
but he’d felt single for the past year. That document just made shit final.

  A sharp knock sounded on the door, interrupting his dark thoughts. Ignoring the knock, he strode into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge. A half carton of milk was plucked out and a bag of Oreo’s was snagged from the cupboard.

  The banging grew louder and louder.

  “Come on, Ryder, open the damned door. I know Felix dropped you off!” Logan Cobalt, his boss, yelled.

  He growled and carried the carton of milk along with the cookies to the door and flung it open just as Logan’s fist was raised mid strike.

  “What? California getting old?” He scowled and stuffed a cookie into his mouth.

  While they did take bodyguard and security jobs all over the U.S., his boss and head of Cobalt Security was based out of California.

  “I was in the area.” Logan smirked and strode on past him, bringing the cool outside air in along with an overnight bag. Ryder slammed the door.

  Logan dropped the bag near the door, strode into the kitchen, and took a soda from the fridge. On his way back into the living room, Logan grabbed a cookie from the bag in his arms and then dropped down to sprawl on his couch.

  “Make yourself at home,” Ryder grumbled at not only his boss, but one of his closest friends.

  “I usually do and I’m spending the night.” Logan munched on the cookie before opening the can with a slight snap. Bubbles hissed, and Logan quickly slurped at the liquid to keep it from running over.

  “What do you have?” Ryder hitched his ass up on one of the tall stools at the bar that separated the room from the front door.

  Logan rarely showed up right after a case was finished. That the guy was spending the night spoke volumes.

  “I have a dead man’s son receiving threats. They’re escalating,” Logan said after taking another quick swallow of soda.

  So much for taking time off.

  “Where.”

  “Denver.”

  Oh hell fucking no. His gut clenched.

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  He made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t know why you want me. You get more complaints about me than anyone else.”

  Stalling, he mentally ran through every excuse he could think of to get out of going to Denver.