Latvis Security Services

by Lexie Ray

  “Don’t care.”

  “That hurts me, man.”

  “Don’t care,” Daren mumbled again, his Georgian accent thick as he continued to watch a video on his phone.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Rebecca sent me some video of Sophie’s first trick ride. She can stand up on a horse at full gallop now.”

  “What?” It only took a few bounds for Dwayne to cover the distance and throw himself onto the limited space next to Daren. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wanna see.”

  With a few clicks, Daren started the tape over and angled the screen for Dwayne to watch without pressing into his personal space. It wasn’t really going to stop Dwayne, though, and he leaned over until their shoulders bumped. The bigger man sniffled.

  “Your little girl is all grown up.”

  “She ain’t my girl,” Daren reluctantly corrected.

  “Yeah, but when you marry Rebecca, she’s going to be your daughter.”

  Daren flushed bright red and attempted to hide it under his long hair. “Rebecca and I ain’t talking about marriage yet.”

  “Yet,” Dwayne emphasized as they watched the video again. “On a completely unrelated note, I’ve already written my best man’s speech.”

  Each of the four men looked up as the elevator doors opened and Mads ushered a woman inside. Delight flashed through Dwayne, strong enough to make him leap to his feet.

  “Cupcake?” Dwayne said.

  Mads stopped in his tracks and studied Dwayne. It was hard for him not to flinch. Mads could cut through steel with those eyes. Eventually, the Lithuanian spoke in a completely calm tone that made it quite clear that anything close to dishonesty was going to be punished.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I met Cupcake at the café this morning.” He wiggled his fingers at the woman standing just past Mads’ shoulder.

  “Why do you keep referring to Ms. Chin as a bakery good?”

  “He gave me a cupcake as an ice breaker. We never got around to exchanging names.”

  “Wait, you’re Chin? The fashion designer who is also our client Chin? Wow, small world. You know, now it almost seems a little unethical for me to flirt with you.”

  “I agree that perhaps you should refrain,” Mads said before he turned to Ms. Chin. “Although, it does bring forth a point I would like to clarify. If we proceed, you will not be our client. Your models will be. Their safety will be our top priority, not your business interests. Is that agreeable?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” she said.

  “So, your name’s Andrea, huh?” Dwayne smiled. “Does anyone call you Andi?”

  “No.”

  “Can I?”

  She smirked. “Can I stop you?”

  “It’s doable. But it would require a star alignment that only happens once every hundred years.”

  “He’s not joking,” Jamie said as he stood up and shook her hand.

  Andrea looked between him and Dwayne, her brow wrinkling slightly with confusion.

  “All the cool kids do astronomy,” Dwayne said.

  Jai placed his book on the nearest desk and got to his feet. “That doesn’t sound accurate.”

  “Well, I was the cool kid. Ergo, whatever I did was what the cool kids did.”

  Jamie looked over to Mads. “You just had to say ergo in front of him the other day.”

  Since they had all been playing phone tag for weeks, it really didn’t feel like a first meeting for any of them. So, Dwayne was left to contemplate how he had never really given much thought to what the mysterious Ms. Chin actually looked like.

  You could always tell something about someone by their appearance, even if it was just what they wanted the world to see when they looked at them. When he had first seen Andrea, he had decided that she was decent and determined, with a strong sense of self awareness. He was looking forward to testing his theories.

  But she wasn’t watching him with the same degree of fascination. Instead, her eyes were trailing Jamie over from head to toe and back. Jamie threw a curious glance at Mads as Andrea pondered him.

  “He’s a good enough fit, I suppose,” she finally said. “I’ll need to do some slight tailoring, but not that much. Do you have his measurements?”

  Mads tilted his head slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  Andrea turned her attention to Mads while she gestured to Jamie. “This is who you want to put in my show, right?”

  “Actually, I was more inclined to having Dwayne fill that role.”

  Her eyebrows edged toward her hairline. “Dwayne?”

  “Yes.”

  “I get to be in a fashion show?” Dwayne grinned.

  “Are you crazy?” she asked.

  “Not insulted,” Dwayne said. “If anyone’s interested.”

  Mads lifted a hand to silence him, but didn’t say anything to him.

  “May I ask what, in particular, Dwayne is lacking?” Mads said.

  “Yeah. I’m damn sexy. And my strut is awesome.”

  “Physically, he is a fine specimen,” Mads continued.

  “Thank you! But I’m not quite sure why you had to specify ‘physically.’”

  Once again, Mads lifted a hand to silence him.

  Andrea looked the towering man over. “He’s pretty.”

  “Thank you,” Dwayne swooned.

  In a disturbingly perfect mimicry of Mads’ actions, Andrea lifted her hand, fingers loosely spread. Apparently, she was a fast learner on how to politely ask someone to shut up. Dwayne wasn’t about to say that it worked, but he was curious enough to see where this would lead, so he sat back to watch the show.

  “Runway models have a very specific build,” Andrea continued. “Dwayne is too tall, too broad, and has far too much muscle. He also doesn’t have exactly the look I’m going for. He’ll draw way too much attention.”

  “That is the point,” Mads said smoothly. “If it pleases you, Jamie can also work the show, but I will have to insist on Dwayne taking part. As you say, he draws a certain amount of attention. And the distraction he creates will allow Jai, Daren, and myself to operate with a certain amount of anonymity.”

  “I am very distracting,” Dwayne said proudly.

  “No offense, but the guy is a massive flirt. The last thing my girls need after all of this is a giant guy making passes at them while they’re trying to work.”

  “Yeah…” Dwayne sucked a breath in through his teeth. “It seems like I really should be taking offense at that.”

  “Dwayne may be rambunctious and might, at times, appear less than professional, but he never crosses the line. I can assure you that your models will feel safe and comfortable within his presence.”

  Andrea crossed her arms. “I just have to take your word for that.”

  “As I said, Jamie can be present if it will put you at ease.”

  “So, my bodyguard has a chaperone?”

  “If that helps you,” Mads said. “It might also reassure you to know that Dwayne is my most resourceful employee.”

  “I am a creative soul,” Dwayne realized.

  “I need to know that whoever is placed on a case without access to a weapon is fully capable of defending himself and others with whatever is at hand.”

  “But Dwayne? Really?”

  Dwayne opened his mouth to protest, but Mads gestured him silent once more.

  “I wouldn’t put him or you in this position unless I was sure it was the best possible choice,” Mads said.

  Andrea released a long, weary sigh before shaking her head. “Okay, fine. You’re the expert.”

  “I promise you, Ms. Chin, you won’t have cause for concern.”

  “Aw, Mads. You say the sweetest things.”

  Andrea glanced at Dwayne and cocked one eyebrow. “Does he ever shut up?”

  “No,” Mads said simply.

  They all looked toward Dwayne, and he beamed under the attention.

  “Now, if you will, I’d
like to get your opinion on our top three suspects.”

  “You’ve already got suspects?”

  Mads smiled slightly. “We are very good at what we do.”

  As Mads ushered her toward the conference room, Andrea glanced back over her shoulder. Dwayne waved at her, his smile widening when she waved back.

  ***

  Andrea noticed that none of the other men were following Mads. Only Dwayne kept his attention on them. He perked up when their gazes met, as if honestly pleased just to have her attention. It was oddly flattering, and she couldn’t resist waving back.

  She lost sight of him as Mads opened the door for her. Most the meeting room was taken up by a large, beautifully detailed table. The whole room was decorated with a stylish elegance, like Mads himself. Obviously, his influence hadn’t extended to the people he worked with.

  Three files were spaced evenly across the far end of the table. Mads pulled out a chair for Andrea and waited for her to get comfortable before he took the seat at the head of the table. He sat like a king on a throne and, even though she was the one employing him, Andrea felt slightly intimidated.

  He placed his hand on the first file and slid it to her from across the table.

  “The kind of abuse you’ve described suggests a certain personality type. From our research, we have found three suspects that fit the profile. I would like your opinion.”

  “I thought you guys weren’t in the state recently.”

  “We weren’t.” Mads smiled. “You’d be surprised how much information can be gained with the right resources.”

  Curiosity gnawed at her. The second Mads released the file, Andrea snatched it up. Her brow furrowed when she found a photograph of Justin Delong. She turned it around so that he could see it.

  “You really think that Justin is behind this?”

  “You disapprove?”

  “I’m just wondering why you think it could be him. I have a lot of rivals. It’s the nature of the business. What about him sets off your warning bells?”

  “Process of elimination,” Mads said. “Justin has the drive to be successful, but lacks the skill to do it on his own merits. He also tests high on narcissistic personality traits.”

  “Wait,” she cut in, “how could you possibly know that?”

  Amusement drifted into his eyes as he watched her. “That’s not a concern at the present moment.” He pushed the next folder to her. “This is another man that caught my attention.”

  Andrea was quickly discovering that Mads had a flare for the dramatic, but decided against mentioning it. She took the file and flipped it open.

  “Lloyd Rossi,” she read. “I could see that.”

  The billionaire made it a point to surround himself with beautiful people. He had a nasty habit of thinking that, because he owned the location, he owned whoever set foot onto the property.

  “I’m glad that you agree,” Mads said. “I was a little concerned that my personal dislike of the man had distorted my opinion.”

  “You say that like you’ve actually met him.”

  “I’ve had that misfortune. Vile man.”

  Mads’ tone told a story that would no doubt be long and detailed. Andrea made a note to ask a few follow-up questions later.

  “Who’s the third?”

  Once again, he handed her the file and let her peruse it at her own leisure.

  “Portia Dumas?” she laughed. “Really?”

  “You did personally derail her career.”

  “She behaved in a completely unprofessional manner. Anyone would have fired her.”

  “People with Dumas’ psychological profile have a very difficult time admitting to their own faults.”

  “How do you know about everyone’s mental health?” she asked.

  “That’s not necessary to know.”

  She met his gaze. “I’m starting to feel that there was some illegal activity.”

  Mads’ lips quirked. “That’s not necessary to know.”

  Andrea shook her head and decided that maybe it was in her best interest not to push the issue. She stacked the files into a neat pile and placed them back on the table.

  “So,” she said, “I was going to ask when we start, but I’m getting the sense that you already have.”

  Chapter Three

  The newest addition to her ever-growing pile of photographs felt heavy in Willow’s purse. She pulled the strap higher onto her shoulder as she hurried down the street. The whole thing had started out sporadically, with maybe only one or two photographs arriving in the mail each month. They always showed the same woman, photographed with an old-style camera. Not one of them had a return address or note of explanation.

  She had never questioned who the letters were coming from. There was really only one possibility. She had cut off contact with him for years, and she wasn’t about to change that now, strange mail be damned.

  She had never truly been able to read him or to anticipate his movements, and that had been her fatal flaw. The more she had tried to understand his mind, the more she had lost touch with her own. She couldn’t risk it again. So, she had suppressed her need to know, passed the images onto a police friend, and tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. But the envelopes had kept arriving. They made her insides twist up like barbed wire.

  Mads had instantly picked up on her discomfort and didn’t restrain himself in pursuing the matter. But despite his probing, Willow had refused to tell him what was going on. She had so desperately needed this part of her life to be over, buried, and forgotten. The thought that he could come back provoked an almost primal fear within her.

  She couldn’t face the person she had once been. The idea of other people discovering her past filled her with a dread that made her physically ill. Willow prayed that Mads wouldn’t figure it out. He had a beautiful – but disturbing – way of looking into people’s minds.

  A few hours ago, she had arrived home to find an envelope waiting for her. She didn’t recall getting back into her car or a second of the drive to Mads’ home. It had to have been a good forty-five minutes, but it had felt like only a blink of an eye. One blink, and she went from collecting her mail to running up the stairs to Mads’ door.

  As her feet hit the stone steps, it occurred to Willow that this was the first time she had ever been to his home. From the outside, it was pretty much what she had expected: pristine and presentable. The slender, three-story house was built of warm, cream bricks and had tall, thin windows.

  The doorbell chimed, bringing her out of her mindless stupor and back into the moment. Why was she here? She wasn’t going to tell him the truth, so what exactly was she planning to say? Her swirling thoughts staggered to a stop when the door opened and she was faced with a woman she had never seen before.

  Tall and curvy, with glistening blonde hair styled into elegantly twisted curls, the woman obviously shared Mads’ passion for the finer things.

  “Hi,” Willow stammered.

  The woman lifted one eyebrow as she studied Willow closely. “Hello.”

  “Um, I’m sorry. I was looking for Mads Latvis. Is this the right house?”

  “It is.” The woman spoke simply, neither moving aside to let her in, nor dismissing her outright. “And you are?”

  “Willow Miller.”

  “I haven’t heard him speak of you.”

  “I haven’t heard him speak of you either,” Willow retorted.

  The woman didn’t turn away from Willow as Mads’ voice echoed from somewhere behind her. He emerged a moment later from one of the side rooms and approached the door. A hint of surprise crossed his face when he saw her. The shock was quickly chased by a warm smile.

  “Willow, good evening.”

  Willow’s response withered to an awkward wave when she noticed that he was wearing a suit. Chatter wafted out of the room he had just exited, bringing with it a hint of music and the aroma of a dozen freshly prepared dishes.

  “I didn’t know that you had gue
sts,” she said.

  “A dinner party,” he said.

  “People still do that?”

  Mads’ smile didn’t waver as he came closer. “Apparently so.”

  “I should leave.”

  “So soon?” the woman asked.

  Mads now stood by the blonde’s right shoulder. He reached around to gesture between the two women.

  “My apologies. Willow, this is Elizabeth Petrov.”

  Elizabeth’s head snapped toward Mads before she caught herself. Mads continued as if Elizabeth hadn’t moved at all.

  “We are on the opera committee together.”

  Willow decided against asking where in town they even performed opera and silently watched as Mads turned to Elizabeth.

  “This is Willow Miller. She’s the owner and operator of the florist store I have been raving about.”

  “You talk about my shop?”

  “It’s rather unavoidable,” Mads said. “People continue to ask me where I get my displays from.”

  Willow smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Elizabeth said with just enough edge to draw the attention back to her. “But I must admit, I’m at a loss as to why you’re here.”

  “Oh.” Willow flushed slightly. “I was just in the neighborhood. You know what? It’s nothing pressing. I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  “No, not at all,” Mads said. “Please, come in.”

  “I don’t want to intrude,” Willow said.

  “You never could.” Mads stepped aside, ushering her into his house with a sweep of his arm. “Come, we can speak in the study.”

  Elizabeth was slower to back away. Her crisp, blue eyes followed Willow as she edged through the doorway.

  “Isn’t dinner about to be served?” Elizabeth asked.

  “We have a few minutes,” Mads said as he placed a hand between Willow’s shoulder blades and guided her down the hallway. “And if this takes too long, I’m sure you can start without me.”

  Willow glanced over her shoulder. If the slight dismissal had come from anyone else, it would have meant a lot. Coming from Mads, it spoke volumes, and Elizabeth visibly seethed under the weight of it. Elizabeth shut the door with a little more force than was strictly necessary.