“Gone.” I didn’t stop rocking. I felt a low cry forming in the back of my throat, trying to bubble up and keen through my lips.
“What do you mean?” He stopped.
“I got rid of them. They annoyed me.” I pulled the blanket tighter and rolled over, curling into a ball in the center of the bed. “I was getting ready to go to bed. I told the goon squad I was going to the bar with the crew.” I pulled a pillow to me, buried my face, and it muffled my voice. “The guys wanted to go get a drink, but I had a headache and didn’t want to go.”
“That doesn’t tell me where my team is, Maggie. I need more.”
“They’re probably sitting outside the bar.” I pulled the pillow away and looked up at him.
“Why would they be sitting outside the bar?” He came and sat at my side on the bed.
“I had Julie dress up like me and go with the guys. Security thinks I went with the crew.”
“You did what?” Liam’s voice roared through the bus, shaking the walls with his anger. “They fell for that?”
“We’re about the same size, and I’m really good with costumes and makeup.”
“Ah, fuck!” He hit a button on his phone and held it up to his ear.
“Hello, Ben? Where the hell are you?” He paused, and I could hear Ben’s voice answering. Liam shook his head furiously. “She’s not at the fucking bar.” I zoned out while he yelled into his phone. My body started shaking again as my mind replayed the last ten minutes over and over. Then, his hands were on me again.
“Maggie.” He shook me. “Maggie, look at me. I need you to tell me what happened. I need to call the police.”
“I don’t know anything,” I whimpered. “I really don’t know anything.”
Liam
She was even more beautiful in person. Tiny, barely 5’2”, with riotous red curls framing her milky white skin, she kept biting her luscious lips stained a deep, kissable red. Her vivid green eyes were full of tears. I sat so close to her I could see a smattering of tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose. I never noticed them when I saw her in magazine photos or on TV—the wonders of photo editing and stage makeup, I guess. The freckles made her seem real, vulnerable.
As beautiful as she was, I really wanted to strangle her for being stupid enough to slip her security team. At the same time, I marveled at her ability to outsmart a team of highly-trained special ops soldiers. I was going to have to ride the guys really hard for this fuck up.
“I need to call this in, Miss Lane.” I reached for my phone again, this time to call the police.
“I don’t want publicity. I have to call Julie. I can’t have bad publicity.” She rocked faster, chewing on her lower lip. “Julie can fix this. You have to call Julie.”
“Miss Lane, we don’t have a choice. I have to call the police. There are dead men in there.” I nodded toward her living room.
“When I fuck up, Julie fixes it.” She muttered to herself at first and then wailed, “Oh God, this is a nightmare!” She turned those teary green eyes on me, begging me not to contact the authorities. I had to turn away from her pleading gaze to make myself place the call.
I’d expected a more confident celebrity. Her reaction was odd, but then again, what is the right way to react to a break-in? How does one confidently respond to such an attack?
“This is Colonel Liam Fox,” I said when the police picked up. “I need to report an attack.” I gave the address to the dispatcher and ended the call. “They will be here in five minutes. Is there anything I need to know before they get here?”
“No, nothing.” Shock set in and her teeth started to chatter. She looked forlorn like someone had stolen her puppy. In that state, she appeared no more than 16 years old. Her face washed clean of stage makeup, her hair loose and flowing over the blanket she clutched tight around her, she in no way resembled the polished pop star whose face they plastered on magazine covers.
“Okay, Miss Lane. Look at me.” I touched my finger to the underside of her chin, and tilted her head up.
“Mmmm,” she mumbled, the rocking slowing a bit as she lifted her heavy eyelids.
“Let me do the talking when the police get here. You say as little as possible. I’ve been through this before.”
“Boss!” Ben came barreling through the door, and I broke eye contact with Maggie. “I can’t believe she gave us the slip. I feel like an idiot.”
“You are an idiot.” I really was disgusted that she had managed to pull this off. It made the whole company look bad. “You knew she didn’t want security. You should have known she would try and pull something like this.”
“Hey, this one is still alive!” Leo hollered from the living room. “Toss me some zip ties, boss!”
Woop! Woop! Woop!
The sound of sirens reached us as black and whites pulled in at odd angles between the trailers and an ambulance skidded to a stop just outside the door.
“Colonel Fox, can you tell us what happened here?” The sweaty town sheriff hitched up his brown pants. His heavy tool belt made them sag below his ample belly.
“I was alerted to a problem in Miss Lane’s trailer. I entered the premises, neutralized the threat, and located the victim.”
“Ahh, yes.” He eyed me suspiciously. “And you were alerted to the threat, how exactly?”
“Miss Lane called me.” It sounded totally lame, but I needed to get Barney Fife to back off. There was just the matter of the dead guy and his partners, who were in the hospital instead of jail. Mason may have actually under reported the severity of Maggie’s situation. “She had been receiving threatening letters. The situation then escalated to break-ins. Miss Lane retained the services of Scorpion Security. This occurred during the operation of providing personal protection. She asked for some privacy. They broke in. She called us.”
“Well, Colonel Fox. We will need Miss Lane’s statement as well.” He hitched up his pants again. “The two men in the hospital aren’t talking.” He smoothed his tie before hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “We ran their prints. They have a history of for-hire breaking-and-entering and assault. It looks open and shut, but we just have to make sure.” He smiled. “You understand.”
“Absolutely, officer.” I passed him my card. “I will bring Miss Lane to the station as soon as she is feeling up to it.”
“Soon, Colonel Fox. We need to talk to her soon.” The short, stout sheriff looked up as I nodded my agreement. Then he tipped his hat to me before ambling away.
Maggie Lane’s situation was way more complicated than I had thought. The whole thing was a mess, and so far, we hadn’t helped it any. I needed to get my head on straight and start thinking like the accomplished fixer I was. This jumpy, twitchy feeling just under my skin had me distracted.
I kept pushing down all the uncomfortable emotions welling up. Being back in the states and near a vulnerable woman brought back memories of Jeannie. I’d always had a savior complex, and the military was a perfect fit for me. I’d joined up right after high school. Helping people, doing what was right just came naturally. Things went great until they didn’t. After the accident, the military wanted me to see a shrink, but I took my discharge and left, preferring to bury myself in my new company.
Maggie needed help. She and I needed to have a heart-to-heart about her situation. We needed to form a plan, and then I needed to get back to my real life. There were too many bad things in this world, and every little bit Scorpion Security did to help made the world a better place mattered. We’d cut the head off one small faction of the human trafficking ring, but there were so many others to track down and neutralize.
A foreign diplomat in Switzerland had a daughter who ran away. There was tribal unrest in a small country in Africa. A private contractor needed security to work in Afghanistan. We got calls all day, every day. There was so much more I could do overseas. There was no need for me to be stuck protecting some celebrity. I had people for this.
Chapter Seven
Maggie
I huddled in the high-backed wing chair in my hotel room, looking through the partially opened blinds at the flashing blue and white lights on the police cars below. My wild hair was still damp from my shower, hanging in curly strings over the collar of the thick terrycloth bathrobe I’d wrapped around myself.
I shook my head and buried my face in my hands. I needed to snap out of it. I had a concert in a few hours. I needed to call Julie.
I didn’t feel much like singing, which was strange. Julie always knew what to say to prop me up. Music is my life, but I never would have made it a career without her. She kept everyone from knowing what a fraud I was. I love music, but music didn’t always love me. I got lucky. I wasn’t better than anyone else out there hawking their songs on street corners, in subways, or at bars.
Knock, knock, knock.
I turned from my quiet reverie toward the door, not even curious enough to wonder who was there. Staring blankly at the closed door, I pulled the neck of the robe closed and gripped it with one hand while the other picked at the terrycloth covering my lap.
Click.
Only one other person had a key to my hotel room. I had sent my second key card with Liam when he went down stairs to talk to the local sheriff.
“Hey, Maggie.” He tossed the key card onto the mini bar as he stalked into the living area, moving into the room with purpose. Liam did everything with purpose. He never made extraneous movements. His quiet presence and all black attire lent an air of danger to everything he did.
“Liam.” I loosened my hold on my collar, relaxing back into the plush chair.
He came to a stop by my side and stood looking out the window behind me. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you to talk to the sheriff.”
“I don’t want to,” I said, pressing my lips together and clenching the neck of my robe again.
He glanced up at the ceiling, took a deep breath in through his nose, and blew it out through his mouth before locking his hands behind his back. “Maggie, this isn’t optional. You have to make a statement.”
“What if there are more?” I fidgeted with my robe again, running my fingers across the knap.
“More what?” He took the seat across from me.
“More guys coming after me.” I squeaked out the last word, my breath catching in my throat as I relived the last few hours. My pulse started racing, and my hands shook as a chill crept up my spine.
“Why would there be more?” He fixed his eyes on me. “Did I miss something? There were only three men in the bus. There was no sign of anyone else.”
“I got another letter.” I blurted out the words, pinching my lips together after.
“What?” Liam leapt to his feet and began to pace back and forth in front of the window. “You just thought to mention this now?”
I nodded at the paper sitting on the end table next to me. “It was delivered to the hotel. The concierge brought it to the door while you were downstairs.”
Liam advanced on the round wooden table and stared down at the folded paper on it. I could feel the vibrations coming off him as his fury rose to the surface.
I rubbed my nose. “If you are as good as Mason says you are, you will find the letter writer and make him stop.” I leaned back into the chair, too exhausted to resent his presence.
Liam used a pen to unfold the letter and scanned the scrawled writing quickly. “Miss Lane,” he looked up at me.
“You might as well call me Maggie.” I interrupted him and sighed. “I get the feeling we will be spending a lot of time together.”
“Maggie…” He looked pointedly at me and enunciated each word very slowly and carefully. “My job is to keep you safe.” His hands were clenched as he stood completely still.
“And you can keep me safe by finding him.” I looked steadily at him. “I won’t have random people trailing me all the time, lurking outside my trailer, questioning my every move.”
“Maggie, if it isn’t me or my men, it will be someone else. Face it—with your fame and lifestyle, you will have security all the time.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Figure it out. Make it go away.”
“You really are prickly.” He looked at me in frustration. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my time trying to protect someone who refuses to protect herself.” Liam turned away, fists on his hips, and hung his head. Muttering to himself, he walked over to stand in front of the window and called his team.
“Mom,” I walked into the bedroom and shut the door.
“Margaret Lynn?”
I cringed. Even over the phone, the sound of my full name from her mouth was like nails on a chalkboard. “Maggie, Mom. I go by Maggie.”
“Such a ridiculous name,” she grumbled. “And Indigo—it’s embarrassing. Your father and I gave you a perfectly good name, Margaret Lynn Lawrence. I can’t believe you’re still gallivanting all over the country, pretending to sing that horrible music, flaunting yourself half-dressed at all hours of the night. We raised you to be respectable, and what do you do?”
“Mom—“
“The way we sacrif—”
“MOM!” I had to interrupt her, or she would go on all night. I had already heard that monologue many times before. “How’s Daddy?”
“Your father is resting. His gout is acting up again. You know his heart is bad. He had the gall to complain about the credit card again.
“Mom, breathe!”
“Well, I never!” Less than three minutes into our call, I’d already offended her. “You could show a little concern. You haven’t even asked how I’m doing.”
“How are you, Mom?”
“Well, since you asked, my arthritis has made it almost impossible to do any work around the house, but I don’t let the pain stop me. I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the kitchen floor like I have every day for forty years. My kitchen floor is so clean you could eat off it. No matter what, I don’t neglect my duties.” She sighed, doing her best to sound utterly exhausted. “Now, are you done with that singing thing? Your father would feel so much better if you went back to school and studied something you can use to get a real job.”
“Mom, I do have a real job. I’m good at what I do, and I do well for myself.”
“I know you think so, honey, but we all know it’s not going to last.”
I bit my tongue to keep the peace. “I don’t want to talk about this again. I just wanted to see how you and Daddy were doing.”
“Honey, we’re getting up in years. We just want to see you settled and happy. Have you met any nice young men lately?”
She didn’t understand. She probably never would, but I still tried. “Mom, you know I love you and Daddy, but I need to follow my heart. I may not be the best singer out there, but this is what I love to do. Even if I never make it, I can say I tried.”
Her voice softened. “We just want what’s best for you, honey. You know we love you.”
“I know, Mom. I love you too. Tell Daddy I love him.”
“I will, honey.” She gasped on the other end of the line. “Oh, I hear your father! I need to take him his dinner!”
“Bye, Mom.” I ended the call and fell back on the bed. I loved my parents, but they never supported my desire to go into music. Phone calls to home always left me feeling less sure about my decision than ever. The news, the magazines, and the articles written about me usually said good things. Not the tabloid rags in grocery stores but reputable publications. My sold-out shows all indicated that I was doing the right thing. Even if it wasn’t real, Julie wouldn’t let me make a fool of myself. She hid my mistakes and protected me. Julie was the closest thing I had to anyone who really cared about me.
Knock, knock.
“Yes?”
“Miss Lane—uh—Maggie, may I come in?”
I flung my arms out, my cell phone still gripped in my right hand, my legs bent at the knees with my feet dangling. “Yes.”
Liam pushed the door open a crack and peered around b
efore opening it wider and slipping his big shoulders through.
“Um, can we talk?” he asked as he entered my room.
I rolled over and looked at the man in front of me. He kept pushing. Why does he keep pushing me? “Fine.”
“We need to talk about this letter.”
I flopped back over and rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to think about the letter. I had been on my own a long time, and I knew I would figure it out.
Chapter Eight
Liam
The woman drove me crazy. She pushed my buttons. She was stubborn and prickly, and she left me completely unbalanced.
“Miss Lane—I mean, Maggie. I need to bring my team in to analyze this letter. You need to tell me everything.”
I reached into my pocket and dug out my cell phone as I walked back into the living room. “Ben, I’m going to send you some pictures.” I stood over the letter and snapped several photos with the phone: front and back, the envelope, close-ups of the handwriting. I sent anything I thought might help him analyze the new note and compare it to the previous ones.
“Yeah, she got another letter.” I sighed, holding the phone back to my ear.
“Did they tell you anything?” Ben asked. “The ones you put in the hospital?”
“No. Those three guys I took down must have just been muscle.” My phone pinged in my ear as I received Ben’s most recent findings.
“Sounds like we’ll all be staying put,” he said.
“I agree. It’s not over. We have to figure out who sent them.” I peeked through the curtains at the parking lot below, looking for anything odd or out of place. I didn’t see my men Leo or Connor, but I knew they were there. “Call me if you find anything.” I ended the call stuck my phone back in my pocket.
My guys were really good at their jobs. I had put together a great team. When I left the service, my skill set didn’t exactly translate to standard employment. After several unsuccessful weeks of job hunting, I created Scorpion Security as a safe place for trained killers like myself to use our skills in the real world. What other job calls for sniping, tracking, shooting, hand to hand combat, jumping out of airplanes, surviving in the wild, knife wielding, and more? Waiting tables, delivering mail, working in an office may have been right for most people, but none of those jobs made use of our skill sets. Thus, Scorpion Security was born.
Liam: The Lost Billionaires, Book 3 Page 4
