“Where is Ren?”
“If you’re talking about Mak’s bodyguard,” Deacon said, “he’s taking a nap under a cubicle desk, three rows down.”
Their eyes blazed and one of the men gestured to the other to go and check.
“Do you think this is funny, Thomas?”
That’s the wrong question to ask, James thought. Deacon was passionate about their business and genuinely cared about all of their clients. It wasn’t just an alternative lifestyle to their past, he loved what he did now and James thought that perhaps by protecting other people, Deacon thought he could somehow atone his soul—just a fraction—for Nicole’s death.
Deacon let his true feelings show. “Funny? No, I don’t think it’s funny at all. You failed to protect her. You gave me fifteen minutes to break into this building and slit her throat, and all I needed was two-and-a-half minutes and I had her in my arms. Do you think that’s funny?”
“I didn’t set the systems up,” he rebutted.
“I don’t give a fuck who did. At the end of the day, you failed and we will never refer a client to you again. And we will make sure that our contacts know exactly what happened here tonight.”
The boutique security industry was a well-connected group, and James knew he realized what that meant to their future.
The second man came back into Mak’s office. “He’s alive, but unconscious.”
The man, clearly wearing the pants in this duo, nodded. “Well, you’ve made your point. I’ll personally ensure she’s safe from here.”
Deacon shook his head and then turned to Mak. “Write a letter terminating your contract and sign it. He can take it back to his boss.”
“Is that your definition of a choice?” she questioned, remaining stationary on the edge of her desk.
James bit his lip, amused at Deacon’s slip-up.
Deacon smiled. “I apologize,” he said. “Mak, would you like to stay with these useless guys, or would you like Thomas Security to handle your case from this evening forward?”
She shook her head, and then stood up and moved to the back of her desk. She typed out a letter on her computer, printed and signed it, sealed it in an envelope and handed it to the man in charge.
“Please pass this on. I will also email a copy, just to make sure it gets there,” she said and it was the first time James had seen her show any bitterness at her lack of protection.
The man took the envelope, looked back at Deacon, and then spoke to his colleague. “Call the guys. We’re going to need help getting Ren out of here.”
Deacon stood up. “That’s all for tonight,” he said, glaring at the men as he closed the door behind them.
“Are they going to sue you for drugging Ren?” Mak asked.
“They might threaten it, but I’ll make a deal with them,” Deacon said.
“A deal, huh? What kind of deal?”
“I might tell them I’ll keep quiet about what happened here tonight, if they don’t sue me.”
James smiled, not concerned at all about the potential lawsuit—their boss knew better than to even try such a move.
“I see…How often do you make these kinds of deals?” Mak asked.
Deacon ignored her question. “Now, if you want to stay here and keep working, I’ll step outside and resume your bodyguard duties until an arrangement is made. Or, I can take you home. We’re going to need access to your apartment tonight anyway.”
“What do you need to do in my apartment?” Mak asked.
“Install a new security system,” Deacon said, leaning against the wall.
Mak appeared to groan. “Okay, I’ll finish my work at home while that’s being done,” she said, turning off her computer and tidying her desk. She picked up a bag that looked like it weighed more than she did, and Deacon moved forward to take it from her.
James watched as Deacon escorted Mak out of the building and into his car. James stood and grabbed the black bag by his feet, already prepared in the event tonight unfolded exactly as it had.
He had an install to do.
CHAPTER TEN –
MAK ASHWOOD
Mak stole inquisitive peeks at Deacon Thomas as he drove her home. Tonight had been a bouquet of surprises, and she could never have anticipated it turning out the way it had. He’d thrown her for a loop, and then spun her until she was dizzy. Who were the Thomas brothers?
“Are you okay?” Deacon asked, looking across at her.
“Yes, I was just recapping what happened tonight. It’s been a bit of a surprise.”
He turned back to the road, but she could still see his grin. He was definitely pretty, the kind of man who would be on a poster hung in the bedroom of a twelve-year-old girl.
“I know, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s like that with us. Just ask Jayce,” Deacon said with a slight laugh. “We’re not conventional, Mak, and we don’t follow all of the rules. We can’t, and won’t, always justify our actions but I promise you can trust us.”
Mak wondered what went on behind the scenes at Thomas Security, and if she really wanted to know the truth.
“How can I trust you if you can’t tell me certain things?”
“Because our actions will prove that you can trust us and every move we make will have your best intentions at heart,” Deacon said.
“Is this how it is with all of your clients?”
“Yes, all of them, with no exceptions. It drives them crazy sometimes—and it will drive you crazy at some point—but our methods work and our clients know it,” Deacon said.
“How many clients do you have?” Mak asked.
He turned to her with a smile. “Just the right amount, Mak.”
“Why don’t you grow the business further?”
“Because security is a high-risk game and quality control is imperative. We need to be able to tightly oversee all aspects of our business, and we can’t do that if it grows too big.”
“And who is ‘we’? Who runs Thomas Security?”
“James and I, primarily. Of course we have managers, like every other business, but we are the two owners, as such. I know what you’re doing…” Deacon said.
Mak played the innocent card. “And what is that?”
Deacon chuckled. “You’re asking me questions that you know I’m going to evade, but you’re not so much interested in my answers as you are trying to read me, right?”
“I’m just interested in the company that is pledging to protect me,” Mak said, tapping her fingers on her knee.
Deacon pulled into the underground garage and used a remote controller to open it.
“How did you get that?” Mak asked.
“That’s none of your concern,” he said, grinning like a mischievous child. “Don’t get out until I open the door for you.”
Deacon exited the car and a few seconds later the trunk opened. Mak turned to see him lifting the strap of her bag over his shoulder. She picked up her handbag that was sitting by her feet, waiting for him to open her door. Mak peered out the windows, looking for anything sinister, but in her opinion nothing, or no one, looked out of place.
Deacon opened the car door. “Let’s rock ‘n roll.”
Mak noticed he had a bag over each shoulder—one of them she didn’t recognize.
“Are you staying over?” she asked. She meant it as a joke, but as soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them.
A broad, lopsided grin formed on his pink lips. “Definitely not,” he said, taking her hand to help her out of the car.
They rode the elevator up to her floor and Mak opened the apartment, turning on the lights.
Deacon stopped, looking at her living room. “Why weren’t packers organized? They should’ve done everything for you.”
Mak moved through the mini skyscraper of cardboard boxes that she was yet to unpack and put her bag down on the dining table. “They were offered to me, but I declined the offer.”
His eyes looked up slightly, like he was thinking something throug
h. “Okay,” he said. “As long as they were offered to you.”
Mak nodded her head. She had declined the offer to have her things moved because she didn’t like people going through her things. She didn’t want someone she barely knew to go through her belongings, let alone pack her lingerie, or the naughty drawer of her bedside table—how embarrassing.
“Where would you like this?” Deacon asked, slipping her case-note bag off his shoulder.
“Oh, thanks, you can just put it here on the table,” Mak said. She moved her hand bag over, making space for the larger bag. Most of her files were electronic, but Mak still liked to handwrite certain notes and print reports. And it was surprising how quickly the weight added up.
He put it down on the table and appeared to take another quick assessment of her apartment. “We’re going to strip the surveillance and put in our own system, and it shouldn’t take longer than an hour. You can get on with your work, or if you’re tired we’ll do your bedroom first so that you can get some rest. We’ll lock up before we leave and there will be security stationed outside all night.”
The apartment door opened and James Thomas walked in.
Their eyes locked just like they had the first time they’d seen each other. This time she wasn’t scared of him, however, but she still didn’t think he was an innocent man.
“Hi, Mak,” he said, shaking her hand. Her skin tingled and she felt her pulse increase as their hands connected.
“I’m sorry about what happened tonight,” James said. “We’ll make sure all involved are dealt with accordingly.”
“Thank you,” Mak said, noticing her voice was throatier than normal.
James’ looked away, almost too quickly, and his eyes traveled over the apartment. “Were you planning to move again?”
“I’ve only unpacked the few boxes of things I need. I’ll do the rest when the trial is over,” Mak said, leaning her hip against the table.
“…Okay,” he said, mirroring his brother’s comment. He looked to Deacon. “Let’s get started.”
James unzipped the bag he had brought in with him, which looked identical to Deacon’s, and pulled out a smaller bag that made a rustling noise as he put it down on the table. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to his brother.
Deacon looked at it for a minute or so, and then looked up at the ceiling. “Good,” he said, not discussing any details.
And neither showed Mak what was on that piece of paper.
“Mak, you can do whatever you need to do. We’ll be as quick as possible,” James said gently—a polite dismissal, of sorts.
“What’s that?” Mak said, eyeballing the paper Deacon passed back to James.
“It’s a security plan,” James said, folding it back up and putting it in his pocket.
“Can I see it?”
“It’s better if you don’t,” James said, not looking at her.
“Why is that?” Mak questioned.
“Because, if you don’t know where the cameras are, and how we are monitoring you, then it’s easier to forget that you’re under surveillance. It’s for your benefit, not ours. It’s the same with all of clients—none of them see the security plan,” James said, pulling what looked like hardware tools from his bag.
“How often will you look at the cameras?” Mak said.
“We, personally, won’t be looking at them at all. The surveillance team will check them from time to time, but they are used more as a double-check if another alert gets triggered. We don’t have someone sitting and watching your every move. At this stage, with this level of security, your life should continue as normal. With the exclusion of your bodyguard, you should be forgetting we exist,” he said, finally raising his eyes to look at her. It was like a warning, a plea.
“I’d still like to see it,” Mak said.
They were at a standoff, and Deacon was the first to speak. “Mak, don’t make this more difficult on yourself than it has to be. People become very uncomfortable in their own home if they think too much about the security. Just leave us to it.”
“I’ll start in the ceiling,” James said, not giving her the plan and not continuing the discussion. He lifted his sweater over his head, and his black T-shirt rode up his waist, revealing a rippled abdomen.
Mak’s cheeks blushed and she moved toward the kitchen—security plan forgotten. She opened the door to the refrigerator, pretending to look for something to eat, but really she was letting the icy air cool the heat in her cheeks.
Christ, Mak thought.
A moment later she closed the refrigerator door. There was only so long she could pretend to be looking for a snack because if they looked inside they would realize it was empty. Mak didn’t cook, and she barely ate in her apartment. She had two bottles of champagne, a block of cheese, a container of milk and a couple of apples—hardly a menu to justify a long deliberation.
She leaned against the counter, watching the two brothers. Deacon handed James a box, which marvelously pulled out into a mini stepladder. He stepped up onto the top rung and, with his fingertips, lifted the ceiling panel to reveal a manhole. He slid the panel to the side, and then with a hand on each edge of the opening, hauled himself upward and into the ceiling cavity. He did it so easily, a result of his sheer body strength.
Mak’s apartment door opened again and this time Cami walked in.
“Hello, again,” Cami said brightly, spotting Mak in the kitchen. “You’ve had quite the night, huh?”
Mak scoffed. “It’s been interesting, that’s for sure.”
“Things are always interesting when these two are involved,” she said. “So, I’m going to be your new bodyguard, starting tomorrow.”
“Good. That other guy was a bore and a half,” Mak said, taking an apple from the fridge, offering one to Cami at the same time.
Cami’s eyes peeked behind Mak’s body. She grinned. “No, thanks, I wouldn’t want to steal half your food supply,” she joked.
“I don’t eat at home, I’m not even home often,” Mak explained. When she had a big case on, she spent most of her time in her office. And when she didn’t, she spent most of her time out with friends and family.
“You’re lucky,” Cami said without elaborating further. “Alrighty, then, I’m going to help these boys so we can get out of here and leave you in peace. We’ll have two security guys stationed outside your door tonight, another in the lobby and some more outside. And then I’ll be back in the morning. What time do you want to be at the office?”
Mak mentally ran through her day tomorrow. “Six thirty.”
“Perfect, I’ll be here a half-hour before,” she said with a nod of her head, and then walked to stand beside Deacon.
Cami said something to him, something Mak couldn’t hear, and he shrugged his shoulders.
Mak looked around her, unsure what to do now. She really just wanted to shower and go to bed. Instead, she picked up a folder of notes and dropped them onto her bed. She kicked off her shoes, climbed up onto the bed, and settled in for an hour of review work.
CHAPTER ELEVEN –
JAMES THOMAS
“Family meeting,” Deacon said as they exited Mak’s building.
“Why?” James said. He’d stuck to the plan all night—the plan Deacon had approved before he left for Mak’s office.
“Because I saw the way you looked at her when you walked in and now I’m questioning your motives again,” Deacon said with glaring eyes.
James threw his bag in the trunk. “Fine, I’ll meet you in Samuel’s office,” he said, not wanting to get into this conversation now.
Family meetings always consisted of their party of four, and they were always held in Samuel’s office because he was the Switzerland equivalent—he never took sides.
James unlocked his car and got into the driver’s seat. He took one last look at Mak’s apartment, at the window he now knew was the window to her bedroom. The light was on but he doubted it would be for long.
She’d seemed tired, and they’d worked as fast as they could and did the install in half the usual time. But she was in the middle of a huge trial, and she didn’t need the massive distractions they had created tonight, but he was not going to leave her unprotected. A distraction tonight was a small price to pay to avoid massive turmoil in the future.
James drove home, his breath the only sound in the car. He never used the radio—it disguised any noise he might need to hear.
When he reached Thomas Security he pulled into his designated parking bay. His car was the final link in the chain of black sedan’s lining the parking lot wall.
Thomas Security had contracted with a luxury manufacturer to design a custom range of armored vehicles for them—the process a highlight of Deacon’s life—but James was not partial to any one brand; he simply wanted whatever was best.
James took their private elevator up to Samuel’s office, where his little family was waiting. He took his seat, waiting for Deacon to voice his concerns.
“I want the honest truth about your feelings for Mak,” Deacon asked.
“She needs to be protected,” James said. “I don’t like that information was leaked to the media, and neither do you, so you can stop pretending that didn’t bother you. I was wrong about my previous decision not to take her as a client, and if we referred them to her, and something happens to her, then that is very bad for Thomas Security.” James folded his hands on the table.
Deacon shook his head and he ground his lip between his teeth. “I don’t believe that’s the only reason.”
“Look, I’m not going to deny I’m attracted to her, but that’s where it will end. I have no intention to pursue her. She’s a client now, and that’s it. You will largely manage her security and I’ll oversee it—exactly how it should’ve been in the first place.”
“Can you stay out of it?” Deacon said, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes,” James responded, hoping he wasn’t lying to his brother.
“I’ve never seen that look in your eyes,” Deacon responded.
“That’s because you rarely see me look at a woman.”
“Exactly. Because you were the one who encouraged that rule, the one who has always lived by the opinion that it’s better to not get into relationships at all because it only ends badly. Having her as a client is like dangling chocolate in front of someone on a diet. Sooner or later they will give in. You’ll give in, and I promise you it’s not going to end well.”
ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) Page 9
