“Reggie’s idea,” Ross said. “The hotel isn’t exactly Fort Knox, but no one knows we’re there.”
Brynn glanced at Erik Morgan, who was watching Ross with a carefully blank expression on his face. The man wore all black and stood with his arms folded over his chest, making his muscles strain against his shirt. His close-cropped hair was dark. And wet, she noticed, as though he’d dunked his head in a bucket of water on the way over here. A thin layer of dust covered his body, which made him look like he’d just come off a construction site—except for the pistol on his hip. The big black weapon looked perfectly natural there, and Brynn had a feeling he knew how to use it.
She tore her gaze away from Erik’s gun to focus on the plan Liam was outlining.
“I’m sorry.” She leaned forward. “Did you say your vehicles?”
“That’s correct. Two full-size SUVs, both armor-plated and with bulletproof glass.”
“Armored cars? You’re kidding,” Ross said.
“No.”
Brynn started to laugh but then caught herself. There was nothing funny about this. Not at all. One of the least funny things was the money this had to cost.
Brynn shook her head. “Two vehicles is totally unnecessary. Ross and I are staying at the same location.” Reggie kept several corporate apartments in Dallas because the firm had frequent business there. “Not only that, but we’ll be going to the same place every morning—the courthouse—at the very same time. One vehicle is plenty.”
“Not for a three-man package,” Liam said.
Brynn stared at him in disbelief. “Three agents for two lawyers?”
“No, three for each of you.”
“Six men? You can’t be serious.”
“Each of your teams includes three agents on a rotating shift, two on, one off, around the clock.”
“Around the clock,” she repeated.
“That is correct, ma’am.”
From his spot against the wall, Erik watched her reaction to his boss’s plans. And those were just the ones he’d mentioned so far. She didn’t know the half of it.
Brynn Holloran didn’t like this setup at all. Maybe she was one of those people who was sensitive about privacy. Or maybe she thought this thing was going to cramp her lifestyle—whatever it was. Erik had seen all kinds of reactions since he’d started this job, and he was definitely accustomed to getting a cool reception. People didn’t like change. But when Erik and his guys went to work on something, change was pretty much guaranteed, so like it or not, she was going to have to deal.
“Mr. Wolfe . . .” She seemed to be struggling to keep her voice friendly. “If we go along with this—”
If ? She still didn’t get it.
“—we’re going to need your guarantee that your agents won’t impede our work in any way.” She glanced around the table, looking at everyone but Erik. “No offense, and I’m sure you’re all very good at your jobs. But you have to understand that we have a job to do, too. Our client’s future is at stake, and we can’t afford any distractions right now.”
“We always aim to keep a low profile,” Liam assured her. “The objective is to protect the client with as few disruptions as possible.”
He wisely didn’t say no disruptions.
“Good.” She smiled. But it looked fake, and Erik wondered what she looked like when she smiled for real. “Glad we can agree. With that in mind, we should reconsider the staffing level.” She flipped to a new page of her notepad and brushed a lock of that shiny auburn hair over her shoulder. “Six agents is excessive. Blythe and Gunn is a small firm, as you know. We’re used to doing more with less. That said, I’m sure you can see the logic in scaling back the number of agents.”
“Six is scaled back,” the chief told her. “My original recommendation was eight.”
“Eight?” She looked at him like he was crazy. “Mr. Wolfe, I understand a lot of your clients are politicians and celebrities. Have you ever worked for people involved in a trial before?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, well, then you know how it is. It’s a grind. Long hours, few breaks. We’ll be holed up in a corporate apartment every night going over files and eating takeout. We hardly need six full-time people to get us to and from the courthouse every day.”
Ah, shit. Erik suppressed a smile as he watched his boss.
“Ma’am.” Liam leaned his elbows on the table. “Let me be clear. We are not a taxi service. Ensuring your personal security”—he glanced at Ross—“and yours goes way beyond getting you safely from point A to point B, although we will do that. Your firm has hired us to provide comprehensive security for you twenty-four/seven. That includes securing your residence and your communications, as well as protecting you personally, whether you’re at home or on the move or at work. Comprehensive security means everything. It’s a lot to cover, and frankly, six men for two principals is stretching it thin, even for us, and we’ve got the best people in the world doing this job.”
“I hear you.” She smiled. “Really, I do. But couldn’t some of this be done through technology? How about a few of your agents, plus some strategically positioned security cameras that could be monitored at a central location? That would require less manpower.”
She gazed at Liam with those pretty baby blues, as if every word out of her mouth made perfect sense.
“Security cams are useful,” Liam said, “and we plan to have some in place. But in the event of an attack, a camera isn’t going to do much to save your life.”
“An attack? You really think—”
“Yes, I do.” Liam paused and gave her one of those hard stares he was so good at.
She stared right back.
“You know, I spent a good chunk of my morning on the phone with the Sheridan Heights police chief,” Liam said. “When I got off with him, I talked to the supervisory deputy U.S. marshal overseeing the search for escaped convict James Corby. Local law enforcement is not up to this task. It’s clear to me that until Corby is apprehended, you and your colleagues are going to need outside resources to ensure your safety. That means us. And that means whatever level of manpower we believe it takes to get the job done.”
Brynn’s smile was gone, and from where he stood, Erik could see that she was simmering.
She was hot. And headstrong, too, which, unfortunately, was a combination that really did it for him. The only woman Erik had ever seen challenge Liam head-on was his wife, and she was on a freaking SWAT team. Liam was intimidating, but that didn’t stop Brynn from trying to negotiate the terms of what she obviously viewed as a prison sentence.
“Could you go back a sec?” Ross said. “You said something about communications. You mean phones? Computers? What?”
“All of it,” Liam told him. “Your cell phone is essentially a tracking device. We’ll provide each of you with a new, clean device.” Liam looked at Brynn. “You’ll be able to keep your number and your contacts.”
“Fabulous,” she said. “But what if I don’t want a new device?”
Liam glanced at Erik. As of ten minutes ago, Erik was the leader of Brynn’s detail, so many of the technical aspects fell to him.
“I’ll talk to Skyler,” Erik said. “She might be able to examine her phone, clear it for use.” He nodded at Brynn. “You’ll have to leave it here overnight.”
She looked at him as though he’d asked her to leave her arm on the table.
“Your call.”
She shrugged. “Fine, no problem.” Although it clearly was. “It’s password-protected, though.”
“Send me your code, and I’ll give it to Skyler,” Liam said.
“Hey, I wouldn’t mind getting a new phone,” Ross said. “I just need my contacts and my number.”
Liam glanced at his watch. “One more issue. I already discussed this with Reggie Gunn, but I’d like to get your take on it.” He looked at Brynn now instead of her law partner. “What can you tell me about your connection to the murder victim?”
&
nbsp; Pain flashed in her eyes. But she folded her hands in front of her and seemed to shake it off. “We worked for Jen Ballard when she was a prosecutor. The time span covered hundreds of cases, including James Corby’s. Jen tried the case and got him put away for life, no parole.”
“And we helped,” Ross said. “As assistant DAs, we were all part of the prosecution team that got him locked up, so we could be on the guy’s shit list.”
Liam nodded. “I understand your current trial in Dallas has no connection to Jennifer Ballard or James Corby?”
“Right, there’s no connection,” Brynn told him. “Different judge, different side of the aisle, different everything.”
“We’re at the defense table now instead of the prosecution,” Ross said.
Liam kept his focus on Brynn. “When you were trying Corby’s case, did you ever receive any personal communication from him?”
“No.”
“Anything after the trial?”
“No.”
“And have you ever received any threats related to work?”
“Ever? Yeah, of course,” she said. “I was a prosecutor for four years, goes with the job. But recently? No.”
“Any unusual phone calls lately, letters, or threatening messages on social media?”
She hesitated a beat. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Erik watched her, not sure why she was lying. Or even if she was lying. He didn’t know her well enough yet to tell. But he would. By the time this job was over, he would know everything there was to know about Brynn Holloran, including plenty of things she was going to wish he didn’t.
Liam watched her for another moment, then looked at Ross. “What about you?”
“Nothing. Why? Did Jen get something?”
“I don’t know,” Liam answered, but Erik could tell he was hiding something.
Brynn’s gaze narrowed, as if she could sense it, too.
Liam steered the conversation back to the security plan, outlining all the basics as Brynn jotted notes on her legal pad. Finally, they discussed a pickup time in the morning, and everyone stood.
Erik hung back, waiting for the room to clear so he could keep his distance as he got the hell out of there. He was acutely aware of how rank he smelled after a four-hour training session.
But Brynn stayed by the door, digging through her purse. When the room was empty, she walked over and gazed up at him. She didn’t have to look far—she was nearly six feet tall.
“Erik, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She reached out her hand, and he started to shake it, but she handed him a sleek new iPhone in a designer case.
“Thanks,” Erik said, sliding the phone into his pocket. “I’ll get it back to you tomorrow.”
“Please do. Half my life’s on that damn thing.”
She left the room, joining her partner in the hallway, and Erik trailed behind them.
Skyler crossed the lobby, and her eyes darted in Erik’s direction. Judging from the smirk on her face, she’d heard about his new assignment. Erik needed to get Skyler on this thing. He could use her insight. It was clear this new client was going to be a handful.
Ross paused at the end of the hallway as Skyler disappeared into the computer room. He looked at Erik. “Hey, any chance you guys bring your admins along on the job with you?”
Brynn glared at him. “Jesus, Ross.”
“What?”
She turned to Erik and rolled her eyes. “Please excuse us. We’ll see you in the morning.”
They tromped down the stairs together.
“What was that about?” Ross asked.
“That woman’s a bodyguard, Ross. Open your eyes.”
“Her?” He glanced back over his shoulder. “She was maybe five-two.”
“Yeah, and did you see the pistol strapped to her hip?”
Brynn squared her shoulders as they headed for the car. What a meeting. Brynn couldn’t remember a time when she’d lost so much ground in so little time.
Actually, the ground had been lost beforehand. She just hadn’t realized it.
Six agents. Two armored cars. People following her everywhere she went. The only concession she’d managed to get was a vague assurance from Liam Wolfe that his team would cause “as few disruptions as possible.” Which amounted to a pile of crap. Brynn had nothing in writing, and the logistics of this operation were worse than she’d ever imagined. She couldn’t believe Reggie had agreed to all this.
Ross popped the locks, and they slid into the BMW. Brynn stowed her purse on the floor and automatically reached to check her phone, which of course wasn’t there. Had she really handed it over to a perfect stranger?
“This is crazy,” she said.
“Which part?”
“All of it. Six bodyguards? That’s ludicrous. And it’s got to be costing the firm a fortune.”
“What do you care?” Ross backed out of the space. “Reggie’s paying out of his drawing account. It’s not going to affect your salary one bit.”
Ross drove past a row of pickups and looped back onto the dirt road.
“It’s wasteful,” Brynn said. “Our firm’s bleeding money, and why? So Reggie can make some kind of statement to Dallas law enforcement.”
“He’s got a beef with them. Fact is, they hate him. And they hate us for working with him.”
“Still, this is over the top. We don’t need this level of security.”
“Brynn.”
“What?”
He cut a glance at her. “Did you even read about Jen?”
“Of course I did.” Brynn’s blood chilled. She’d read everything she could get her hands on. A judge’s murder anywhere, let alone an affluent suburb of Dallas, was big news across the state.
“It was bad,” Ross said.
Bad? It was a horror show. Brynn looked out the window and tried not to think about the details. The victim suffered multiple gunshot wounds and was rushed to the hospital, where she was declared dead on arrival.
Brynn shuddered. Jen wouldn’t have been rushed anywhere if her date on Thursday evening hadn’t been a doctor. He’d shown up soon after the attack and kept Jen hanging on by a thread until the paramedics arrived.
“Honestly, I’m glad Reggie hired these guys,” Ross said. “Every last one of them. I don’t know what it costs, and I really don’t care. That guy’s a sadist. Jen proved that at trial.”
“He has antisocial personality disorder.”
“Well, what difference does the label make if he comes after one of us? If Corby shows up in your living room, are you really going to care about his clinical diagnosis?”
“He’s not going to come after us. Reggie’s overreacting.”
“Overreacting? Jen is dead.”
“I know,” she snapped. “I’m aware of that, okay? But everyone’s jumping to conclusions about who killed her. Jen was a prosecutor for four years. You know how many people she helped convict?”
“No.”
“Hundreds. When we worked for her, she was averaging ninety-five felony cases a year. Add misdemeanor filings, and her caseload was nearly four times that. Jen made a boatload of enemies, and any number of those guys could be out on parole and looking for revenge. God knows plenty of them are unstable.”
“Yeah, but think about the timing. James Corby just escaped from prison.”
“True. And he was one of her most high-profile cases. Maybe someone heard about it and decided it was the perfect opportunity to settle a score.”
Ross shook his head. “Who would do that?”
“I don’t know. But you have to admit it’s a possibility. And now here goes Reggie, mobilizing an army of bodyguards. All this drama so he can make a point to Dallas law enforcement that they’re not competent to do their basic job.”
“He wouldn’t do all this just to make a point.”
“He absolutely would. He’s manipulating the press, ginning up publicity f
or us right before a big trial. You know as well as I do that he never misses an opportunity to shine a spotlight on himself or the firm. When we show up with this entourage, people will notice. I mean, really, six bodyguards, Ross?”
They neared the gate to the property. No guardhouse, no keypad, not even a sign, just two plain black panels that slid open when they got close.
Ross rolled through the opening, and Brynn watched in her side mirror as the black gates glided shut behind them. Liam Wolfe’s compound—like the man himself—was practically invisible unless you knew where to look.
Ross turned onto the highway and hit the gas, and the V-8 engine gave a throaty growl.
“Lemme just say this.” Ross looked at her. “James Corby is a sick son of a bitch. Whether he killed Jen or not, I’ll sleep a hell of a lot easier when they collar him up.”
Yeah, sure. Like they could just pluck him off the street, a man who’d slipped out of a maximum-security prison.
“Me, too,” Brynn said. “But first, they have to find him.”
BRYNN SAT amid a mountain of pillows, her files spread out around her on the king-size bed. She was supposed to be prepping for trial tonight, but she’d spent the past two hours digging for info on Jen’s case.
A shrill noise made her jump. She looked at the phone on the nightstand. No one was supposed to know she was here.
Another cringe-inducing sound, and she grabbed the phone. “Yes?”
“Hey, it’s me.” Bulldog.
She slid her laptop aside and leaned back against the pillows. “How’d you find me?”
“Are you kidding? I’m a fucking detective. How’s the Ritz?”
Ha. She and Ross were holed up in an extended-stay hotel north of Houston with a bunch of cranky businessmen.
Not that Brynn had socialized much. She’d purchased dinner in the gift shop before coming straight up to her room.
“It’s peachy,” she told him. “Where are you? And please tell me you’ve got something on Perez.”
“I do, but you’re not going to like it.”
Desperate Girls Page 3
