by Cari Quinn
My lips twitched. “Smooth talker.”
Noah grinned and I relaxed a little. The dimples were back.
After Hunter glanced at his watch, Noah nodded at his brother. They were all fidgeting as if they were on the verge of taking off. But no one moved.
“Honestly guys, go. We’re going back on the road in two weeks, so I’ll just be hanging out at my house. I’ll be fine.”
“Like we’ll be able to eat, drink and be merry.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something to distract yourselves.”
Kennedy flushed. “It still wouldn’t be right.”
“Go. There’s nothing you can do here. Noah will take care of it, right?” I glanced at him.
Noah nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Then it’s decided.”
Hunter’s brow was still furrowed, but he nodded. “Get some rest. We’ll check in on you tomorrow before we leave. How’s that?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Now I just had to get rid of my parents. My mom dragged over the chair and sat down. “Now, it’s time for you to go to sleep, my darling.”
“Mom, you need to go home.”
She shook her head. “No way.”
The nurse was reviewing the bags hanging beside my bed and checking my IV. I looked up at her. “She should really go home, right?”
The nurse glanced from me to my mom, and opened her mouth. When my mom gave her a mutinous look, I knew I was toast.
Guess I was having a sleepover with my parents after all.
Lucky me.
6
Quinn
I pulled the books off the small bookcase in my quarters and loaded them into my ancient footlocker with the rest of my belongings. I’d been on this detail for close to eight months. One of my longer assignments to date.
It was my preference to have a home base of operations for my clients so they could reach me easily. Aidan Roth, my boss, knew my style and never seemed to have a shortage of these types of jobs lined up for me. Probably because I was the exact opposite of most of his operatives.
The bodyguard unit of Roth Defense was made up of a lot of retired or former military, and a few civilians with similar training. Aidan and Marcus Roth had created a very lucrative security agency based in New York City. When I’d left the Army Rangers, I’d been at loose ends.
Aidan had hired my best friend, Noah, and when he’d put feelers out for more people to add to the team, it had been a no-brainer. I trusted Noah more than anyone on this planet. The best part? Aidan wasn’t the micromanaging type. He left me the hell alone.
I took the shit assignments that the others didn’t want.
Gladly.
Most of the security team wanted action. I was the exact opposite. I liked order, and to keep order. The French ambassador was an older gentleman who liked routine as much as I did. He only entertained when absolutely necessary.
He preferred quiet nights with his family, and never gave me much trouble. His kids required a little more effort to keep in line, but for the most part it was exactly the kind of job I loved.
Orderly.
Structured.
No surprises.
I’d been tempted to go back with him to France and continue as his personal security, but I was tired of the politics. And without the ambassador, I sure as shit didn’t want to stay in Washington any longer than I had to. Security was a nightmare on Dupont Circle. I definitely wouldn’t miss that.
For the first time, I didn’t have another assignment lined up. I usually had at least a half-dozen people on the waiting list for me.
A soft hiss had me instantly reaching for the firearm that was never far away from my side. I slid the Glock out of my holster and pointed it toward the floor.
“Hey, old man.”
My shoulders relaxed. “Jesus, Noah.”
My best friend leaned against the doorjamb to my room, his eyebrows waggling in unapologetic glee that he got in without me noticing. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t have another client in the wings. Obviously I wasn’t on my game.
Or I’d gotten too used to the easy nature of this job. Neither was a comfort.
I tucked my gun back into the holster under my arm. “What the hell are you doing in D.C.?”
“Looking for you.”
It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. “Is this why I don’t have an email waiting for me from Aidan?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
I’d worked with Noah more than a few times, but not in the last five years. He worked the more chaotic posts that usually included a few off-the-books operations. I had a greater chance of getting shot, usually. Even when I was a better shot than he was.
“Not like you to be cagey.” Again with an eyebrow response. “All right, not cagey with me.”
He grinned. “Truth.”
I resumed my packing. I wanted to get out of the house before the movers took over. I’d already handed the family off to their new detail, and did the goodbyes. I hated them. Avoided them at all costs, but the ambassador’s daughter was young and had grown very attached to me.
Probably why I was out of sorts. There was no other reason that Noah should have been able to sneak up on me.
I held up my dog-eared copy of The Stand. “I’m not going somewhere sandy and hot, am I?” A little Stephen King was good for a long, boring flight.
“Depends on your definition of sandy and hot.”
“Desert?”
“Then, no.”
I tossed the book into my bag, then crossed my arms. “Again, what’s with the lack of detail?”
“I know you’re not going to like it.”
“‘Not like it’ like when you dragged me to Fallujah for twenty-four days? Or ‘not like it’ because you’re passing off a pain-in-the-ass client?”
He drew air between his teeth. “Pain in the ass isn’t exactly right. I love this girl like a sister.”
My chest tightened. “Girl?”
Noah rolled his eyes. “Okay, not a girl. She’s almost thirty, for Christ’s sake.”
I frowned. Noah didn’t talk about too many people. One of the reasons we got along so well was because we didn’t push each other for a lot of discussion about our personal lives or pasts. The stickler for me? Family wasn’t a word he threw around lightly. “How much like a sister?”
His other dimple came out.
“No.” I backed up and slammed the top of my trunk closed and locked it. Before I could heft it up by the handles, he grabbed one side.
I was not working with his brother. Probably one of the band members’ girlfriends were… I frowned. No, he said family.
A flash of memory drifted in. Noah had a cigar box that he kept with him. It had a handful of photos, a sniper shell, and a cross. One of the photos—an old one that curled at the edges—was of him and Hunter with a girl hanging between them.
All smiles.
Blonde.
Trouble.
Like a sister.
“Come on. It’ll be a cake job.”
I pushed him through the doorway, not caring when his elbow clipped the doorjamb. “No, it won’t. Nothing involving that band is a cake job.”
He swore and shook out his arm. “Hammered isn’t dog shit on your shoe, Quinn.”
“Close enough.” One of the reasons I stayed away from the fame end of the bodyguard game was the pure lack of control. Venues, fans, entourages—all security nightmares.
He sighed. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
I stopped the trunk midway through the doorway. The dimple was gone, and his face was a little too bleak for my peace of mind. Noah didn’t ask for favors. I owed him about four by my last count, which meant my chances of saying no to this job were between none and zilch. “You’re a son of a bitch.”
“I beg your pardon? My mother is an angel, fuckface.”
I tried not to laugh, or even smile. For anyone else, I could manage it. “Yes, she is. I
have no idea how you came from such a wonderful woman.”
“She says three rosaries for me daily. Says it’s the only way my soul will have a chance in getting to heaven.”
I started walking again. “That makes sense.”
“Did I mention you’re a shit?”
I nodded. “And yet you’re still here asking for a favor.”
“I’d do it if I could, but I was only in town for my brother’s wedding. I’ve got to report back to my client tomorrow night. I got Sarah to cover me, and she’s already bitching for me to get my ass back to Louisiana.”
I backed Noah through the living room in my small apartment, then we set the trunk by the door. I moved to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water, offering one to him.
This August in D.C. was hideously humid. My T-shirt stuck to my back and I’d barely had anything to pack. I sat on the edge of my couch. “All right. Give me a rundown.”
Noah leaned against the doorway between the living room and vestibule, and downed the bottle in thirty seconds. He tapped the bottle against his thigh, not saying a word.
I waited him out.
Either this was going to be one helluva whopping lie, or the job was a shitshow. I had a feeling it was the latter.
“Someone drugged Faith Keystone at the wedding.”
I slumped back on the cushion. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”
“Yeah. We were damn lucky I was about twenty feet from her when it was going down.”
“Was the guy caught?”
“Negative. Get this—not a guy.”
My eyebrows shot up. “All right. You got me twice.”
“She was dressed as the waitstaff and melted into the crowd as soon as I yelled. I didn’t even get a look at her. Just that she was blonde, five-three, and built like Keys. Also part of the problem—she’s got herself dressed up like Keys. Hair, clothes, hell…even her shoes.”
“Police?”
“Questioned her this morning before I left. Ketamine,” he said simply.
I sighed. “Swiss cheese for memory, huh?”
“Pretty much. The cops filed a report, but there’s not much they can do. There was intent obviously, but they can’t put a detail on her. The band has security, but Patrick O’Connor is more of an all-around babysitter. He’d punch me dead in the mouth for saying that.”
“And I get to work with this joyful person?”
Noah shrugged. “You’d probably get along with Patrick. He’s about as much of a conversationalist as you are.”
“Trying on that comedian hat again?”
“I hung out with the guys for a weekend. It happens.” Noah moved forward and leaned his hip against one of the club chairs. “Honestly, for the most part, these guys don’t have a lot of trouble.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He snorted. “I’ve known Keys since before she could legally buy a shot. She’s a good kid.”
“You’re thirty-six, Noah.”
“Yeah, well as I said—sister.” He folded his arms. “If something happened to her, Hunter would probably be arrested for murder. I might get away with it, but he’s dumb and passionate.”
I sighed. “Does she know you’re siccing me on her?”
“Yes.”
“You’re still not telling me everything.”
Noah paced away. “Look, I know you’ve got issues with the weirdness of LA—”
“I like LA fine. Great Mexican and sushi. Best I’ve ever had without being in the actual countries of origin. What I have a problem with is the absolute lack of security protocols followed. D.C. might be a pain in the ass, but people here know how to deal with security. Fans are worse than suicide bombers. You never know what the hell they’re going to do.”
“Yeah, well—full disclosure—they got nothing on Keys.”
“This kills two favors.” I leaned forward, the bottle dangling between my knees. “Two.”
“I saved your life three times, and dragged your ass out of Paris when that bitch tried to skewer you with a saber.”
I flushed. “You were the one who came up with the harebrained scheme to seduce a fencing champion at the embassy, you ass.”
“Can I help it that you suck at seduction?”
I opened my mouth to argue, and closed it again. It really wasn’t worth it. There was no way that I was going to win this argument. And there was no way I was saying no.
“When do we leave?”
“Let me help you with that trunk.”
“Crap.”
“It’s good for you to get out in the world.”
I hauled myself off the couch that had always been too short for me. “I hate you.”
“Nah. You hate rock stars.”
“Truth.”
7
Keys
“Mom, I swear if you keep pacing, I’m throwing you out.”
She stopped at the window. “How can you just lie there reading?”
“Patrick vetoed going outside, and my wrists actually hurt from practicing the piano.” If I didn’t find something to catch my interest, I was going to go insane.
My mother pacing all over the house wasn’t helping.
Wringing her hands and staring at her phone wasn’t helping.
Nothing was helping.
It had been one day since the attack and the cops hadn’t even pretended they were going to offer much assistance. The Special K part of the equation had given them pause, but since I couldn’t remember a damn thing about her—and no one else had seen her—well, it was pretty much the definition of moot.
So, I was under house arrest with Patrick turning my place into a security nightmare. Noah had sent equipment ahead and was en route with his friend.
Just the thought of someone shadowing me for the foreseeable future was mind-boggling. Why the hell would anyone care about me to this level?
That was the worst part. Wouldn’t this be an escalation kind of deal? Uber fan to Crazytown? Not just straight into Kidnap-Keys-to-keep-as-my-very-own? I didn’t even know if that’s what it was.
I slammed down the book I was reading. And this book—1001 Rock Star Deaths—wasn’t exactly the best reading material. Even if they were fascinating in a completely masochistic way.
My mother sat next to me and picked up the book. “Oh, Faith.”
I snatched the book and lifted the top of my coffee table and shoved it in the storage space. “It was something Owen gave me as a joke last Christmas.”
“This is no laughing matter.” She sniffled.
“I know.” Oh, here we go with the waterworks. “Mom, don’t start.”
“How can you be so calm?” she wailed.
I pulled her into a hug and fought back my own wash of tears. I wasn’t calm. I was going nuts, but crying about it wasn’t going to help anyone. But I also had a tendency toward sympathy tears. If she started, I would probably dissolve into a full-fledged sobfest myself.
Not good.
I stood up and dragged her over to the sideboard. I opened the tall crystal decanter with bourbon in it.
“Faith…”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“It’s too early to drink.”
“It’s never too early for a good bourbon.” I splashed a mouthful into two tumblers. I slung a glass over to her.
She wrapped her shaking fingers around the glass and slowly sipped. Her eyebrows went up.
“I know. It’s like chocolate had sex with alcohol.”
My mom huffed out a small laugh. “I don’t know if it’s more horrifying that you talk like your band, or that I find it funny.” She took another drink. “Don’t tell your father.”
I lifted my glass to clink with hers. “Secrets to the grave.”
“I don’t really appreciate this dark sense of humor you have.”
I finished off the glass. “You never did, but if I don’t joke then what the hell am I going to do?”
“Take it seriously?”
I
whirled on her. “Of course I am.” I held my arms out. “I have a huge house and it’s never felt so small in my life,” I shouted. My mom’s eyes filled again and I tipped my head back. “Dammit.”
“Keys?”
I jumped at Patrick’s voice and spun around.
“Sorry.” Patrick stood at the entry of the hallway down to the front door with Noah and another man. His lantern jaw was locked and a scruff of red hair covered his cheeks. His eyes were exhausted, under the worry.
I rushed over to the men and gave Patrick a quick pat on the arm.
He stiffened and backed up. “I’m going to check the perimeter.”
I sighed, waiting until his boots echoed and the door slammed behind him. “He’s just worried,” I said to Noah.
He dragged me in for a tight hug. “How’re you holding up?”
I pulled away and looked over my shoulder at my mother staring out the window at the mountains. “We’re doing okay.”
Noah frowned down at me. “No, how are you doing?”
I gave him a wry grin. “Going stir-crazy.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I peeked over at his friend. He wore a crisp white shirt and black suit. His hair was military short, but his skin was tanner than I’d have expected for someone so…suit-ish.
But man, his eyes.
Arctic blue and assessing.
His gaze surveyed every corner of my living room, and he frowned at every damn thing. Before I could open my mouth and introduce myself, he walked away and checked my dining room, then walked into the kitchen.
I stood in my living room watching him, my hands on my hips.
Really?
Not even a “Hi, my name is”?
“Don’t mind Quinn. He’s just thorough. He’s been studying your blueprints on the flight.”
I turned to Noah. “How the hell did you get my blueprints?”
“You don’t really want to know.”
I crossed my arms over my middle and followed Quinn down the hall and up the stairs to the second level.
“Keys,” Noah called after me.
I ignored him and trailed Quinn into a guest bedroom. “Make yourself at home.”
