Hostile Contact (The Hostile Series)

by Tamala Callaway

  He only looked at her, a smile beginning to appear on his face as his eyes dramatically drew down her body to her very large fluffy tiger slippers. After remaining focused on her house shoes a moment too long, Symóne drew her foot back behind the door, causing him to suddenly look back up at her face guiltily.

  “So, thanks for the security again—good night,” she diverted and started to close the door.

  “Can I at least give you the information you need?” he asked.

  “Give it to me,” she breathed. Just then, her phone went off with a text. She looked at it and there it was again. Another anonymous number with a chilling message.

  Anonymous- You'll never get rid of me. If you don't take me serious, then I'll just have to make you.

  Symóne took a dramatic step back. Her hands shaking, her face pale as a ghost. Trevor came in, closing the door behind him.

  “What is it Symóne?” he asked.

  Her hand was violently shivering as she handed him her phone. He read the message, but his knack for keeping his cool won over the anger he was now feeling inside. His phone rang, revealing his partner's number. He answered, wondering what would have him calling this late when they'd just parted from the office.

  “Hey Vince?”

  “Trevor, there's been an infiltration at the firm. Security is pulling video footage, but we have to veri-check everything. Can you come back to the office?” he sounded panicked.

  “Give me ten, then I'm on my way,” he agreed, then ended the call. He faced Symóne who's face wore worry and suddenly fear at the look on his face. “Symóne…I'm going to ask you to do something for me. It's imperative that you trust me on this and do as I ask,” he nodded his head toward her, giving her a stern look of caution.

  She bit her lip, her hands still shaking, her breathing challenged. Taking a long deep breath, she let her head fall forward. A sign of surrender that he took as conformity; something he never thought he'd see from her for at least another year or so.

  He reached out a hand to her, realizing just how fragile she really is. However, by nature, she tried desperately to hold on to the level of courage she'd worked so hard to build, but failed. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to embrace her again. Something she's secretly wanted to do, but didn't want to fall prey to another man.

  His smell was captivating, his body firm but not hard. The way he held her was comforting, safe and reassuring. When his lower jaw caressed the side of her head, she knew that he was sincere. A shallow man would be more sensual than comforting.

  “Okay Trevor,” she spoke with her lips against his collar bone. “What do you need for me to do?”

  Taking a deep breath, then exhaling it cautiously, he gave her two options. “Symóne, you're going to need to pack a bag and stay either with your friend Faye, or with me,” he paused, waiting for the tantrum.

  She pulled back and looked up at his face. It was nervous, but for a different reason than assumed. He looked desperate and worried.

  “You have got to be joking? You don't seriously expect me to come stay with you? I don't know you, well…not enough to trust you in that way,” she rejected and pulled away from his touch. She turned her back on him and walked toward her kitchen, but paused when he spoke.

  “It's not at all what you may be thinking. I have a second bedroom, and my building is secured and monitored. Also, I will feel more at ease, if you were somewhere I can protect you,” he breathed, taking a few steps closer to her. He glanced at his watch, his time was up and he needed to get back to the office.

  She turned to face him, “Why do you care what happens to me? I mean, just last week, we were complete strangers. You were the jackass that kept harassing me and buying me breakfast. I don't know what to think right now, but…I'm more than a little freaked out. For one, by this nut job texting me, and by you; a high powered attorney with a sudden obsession with me,” she shrugged, her palms up in a surrendering manner. Symóne's emotions were erratic and it was difficult for her to wrap her head around everything that's happening now.

  “I know. It sounds very odd and you don't have to trust me, but I really wish you would,” he looked at his watch again. “Look Symóne, I have to get to my office to handle a situation, but I'm going to send Blake up here to stand watch outside of your apartment. Whichever you decide, he will assist and accompany you. Either way, it's not a good idea to stay here,” he was urging with his looks toward her. He didn't press his luck reaching for her again, he half turned, giving her a final look of caution then approached the door. He dialed a number and held the phone to his ear. “Blake, I need you at Miss Lassetter's door. Keep watch and if she needs help with anything at all, please assist and take her wherever she tells you to,” he ended the call and opened the door.

  He stepped into the hall and only let the door partially close behind him. He waited until Blake arrived, then pulled the door shut. Symóne went to the door and peeked out of the peephole, seeing the two men still standing there. She carefully lay her head against the door to listen to their conversation where Trevor was issuing orders to the bodyguard.

  “Blake, it is of utmost importance that you protect her with your life. I'm not sure if this has anything to do with my upcoming case, or something totally different. Until I know what we're dealing with, use extreme caution,” he started to walk away, but Blake stopped him.

  “Of course Mr. Harrison. If you don't mind me asking…well, is Miss Lassetter involved in your case somehow, or is she something else to you?” he wondered about not knowing of her or their connection prior to last week.

  “No. She has nothing to do with my case. She's important to me because…I believe she's going to be a part of my future—and, well…I received confirmation from my mother,” he smiled guiltily. “She's never wrong and I trust her judgment,” he chuckled lightly, then his phone went off again. It was his partner, Vince.

  “Keep her safe, I have to go!” he ordered and answered his call as he rushed to the stairs, taking them two at a time. His strides were athletic and swift. He was in his car, peeling out of the parking lot headed back to his office. Once he got there, three squad cars were pulled up in front of the building. There were two officers standing on the sidewalk guarding the entrance. He parked and got out, flashing his I.D. and building badge at the officer as he rushed by them.

  He decided to take the elevator since it would be quicker than running up twenty-one flights of stairs. As the doors of the elevator opened, the office staff were all frantically reorganizing the mess that used to be the file room.

  “What happened? Who did this?” Trevor demanded. He stood over an investigator that was dusting for finger prints. Before anyone could answer him, Mike, the firm's technical engineer was bringing him a tablet with the video footage of the time-frame the break-in had occurred. They both watched with the investigator leaning in as well, at what seemed to be a woman in a power suit. Her hair was dark and covered most of her face. Probably intentional, yet she seemed to know exactly where to go and what to do. She entered a number on the key pad of the file room and walked right in. She pulled a file from a particular drawer and placed it on top of the cabinet. She then began yanking other files from the drawers and throwing them to the floor in a wild-like manner, sure to mix everything together. The camera from inside of the file room showed through the small opening of the door that other employees were walking back and forth past the door, going about their normal business. This meant that the infiltration happened while everyone was still at work and had completely gone unnoticed.

  “Vince! Come look at this!” Trevor called out.

  His partner came quickly and began looking at the video as well.

  “Do you recognize this woman?”asked Trevor.

  Vince looked intently at the footage, then up in thought. His sudden revelation became disturbing the more he thought about it. He looked nervous to tell Trevor his thoughts, but saw that he had no choice.

  “Well?”
/>
  “She looks sort of like your new friend's friend. The one that hasn't been at work all week,” he raised his brows at Trevor.

  He frowned, but didn't want to jump to any rash conclusions. “It can't be her. She's been home sick,” Trevor rejected. This was not something he was willing to let blow up in his face later. His already non-existent relationship with Symóne was way too fragile right now to handle any type of misunderstanding. Faye seemed to be the only person in Symóne's life she trusted. She had no one else except him, and they weren't that far along yet.

  “It must be someone else. Faye has no reason to want any of our files. If anything, she wants to see things develop between Symóne and me. What logical reason would she have done something like this for?” Trevor was really asking himself as he went into thought mode. He took the tablet from Mike and went into his office and re-watched the video several more times. At first, the woman did pose great similarities to Faye, but as further scrutiny of the figure progressed, he remembered that she was a blonde. Also, this woman seemed stealth and focused, whereas Faye seemed to always be relaxed and informal with her movements. Trevor had to find a way to quickly rule out the best friend of the woman he had already felt connected to.

  “Mike!” he called out. “Could you come in here, and…close the door behind you?”

  “Yes Sir?” he responded, ready to be of assistance.

  Trevor emailed the footage to his own device, then handed Mike his tablet, “I need you to pull up video footage of the sidewalk for up to thirty minutes prior to this video. Then get me the footage of the customer and employee parking lots as well. I need to see what type of vehicle this woman arrived in and if she was wearing the same thing the entire time, or did she change clothes once inside the building,” he rattled off, then waved Mike off to get to work. He watched the video again, but was interrupted by a call.

  “Yes Blake?”

  “Miss Lassetter decided to take your advice. She called her friend to inform her of her whereabouts, now we're at your condo. She's making herself comfortable in the guest suite,” he reported.

  Trevor was taken aback. He was completely shocked and tremendously excited. This woman he so desperately wants to get to know is in his home.

  He cleared his throat and inhaled, “Thank you. Let her know she's welcome to anything in the fridge or she can call room service. I think we'll be wrapping things up here in the next thirty to forty minutes or so, then I'll be on my way home.”

  “Will do, Mr. Harrison.”

  Trevor shivered at the thought of her, then pulled himself together. He had less than a week until the trial for Miss Henry. In addition to his case, he was now faced with an anonymous caller to Symóne, a break-in of the file room of his firm, and hoped beyond hope that none of this was Faye's doing.

  Mike returned to Trevor's office at the same time he was receiving a call back from Blake. He reached for the tablet and answered his phone simultaneously.

  “What's up, Blake?”

  “She's gotten three more texts. The caller knows she's here,” he reported.

  “Damn it!” he gritted his teeth. “I'm sending extra man power to the building. Whatever you do, don't leave her alone!” he snarled then hung up.

  “Do you need to leave Mr. Harrison? I can view the footage and just email copies to you, then we can compare notes later?” Mike offered.

  “Email them to me now,” he ordered as he stood to his feet. He began gathering important information on the trial to take with him. The staff had recovered all of the contents of each file and found everything except one particular case. The missing file was a case from three years ago, containing a lawsuit between a song writer and a music producer. Things still did not make sense for someone to want anything from that file since the case was a win/win for both parties.

  After procuring extra security for the firm and the building, and also his residence, Trevor headed down to his car, escorted by the officers that were on their way out. Once he was in and on his way home, he put in a call to Miss Henry to check on her.

  She informed him that other than the ridiculous attempts at low ball settlement offers from her soon-to-be ex-husband, she and the kids were fine. He was relieved and needed to focus on Symóne's situation for now. His team was already researching the witnesses and fact checking their information and stories, and now he could put some energy toward finding Symóne's anonymous caller.

  He arrived home, turning his Range Rover over to the valet, greeted Howard the doorman, collected his mail from Roni the receptionist, then headed up on the elevator to his condo. He was nervous and had no idea what to expect from Symóne once he opened the door.

  Greeted by Blake, who was waiting with more information on Symóne's anonymous texter, Trevor entered and put down his briefcase and laptop. Blake hadn't allowed her to respond to the messages, which was irritating the texter. Trevor reached for the phone he was being handed, while also looking for signs of Symóne.

  “She's in the bedroom, working on her design portfolio,” Blake informed Trevor.

  He nodded, then scrolled through the text messages.

  “I think there must be a tracking device on either her car or something else personal of hers. When you switch out security for the night, have her car swept for devices. I'll personally drive Symóne to work, but because of my case load, I'll need you on watch duty for her in the evenings until we get this situation resolved,” Trevor rattled off information.

  The anonymous caller had made it clear that she could not hide from him, that she was making things worse by continuing to see Trevor. Also, that he'd taken pictures of her sleeping from outside of her window with a telescoping camera. It put her on edge and all she could do to keep her sanity was to sketch out her designs.

  Trevor knocked on her bedroom door, but didn't get a response. “Symóne? It's me, may I come in?”

  “It's your house,” she sneered dryly.

  He slowly turned the knob and eased the door open. She was sitting with her legs crossed in front of her, center of the bed, with a large sketch pad in her lap. She refused to look at him, as she was engrossed in shading and bleeding her markings into an artfully designed sketch of a master chef's home kitchen.

  He came a little closer, leaning in to get a better look at what she was doing. Surprised at the level of skill she possessed, he became instantly intrigued with her work.

  “May I see what you have there?”

  Her hand halted, laying the pencil beside her as she wiped her finger tips with a dampened cloth, then handed him the sketch pad. While he studied her work, Symóne changed positions and drew her knees to her body and wrapped her arms around her legs. Her chin rested on her knees and she began to rock back and forth.

  Trevor noticed her motion without looking away from her sketches. This was the behavior of someone feeling out of control of their life, and she was trying to refocus her fear onto something she did have control over.

  “This is amazing work Symóne. You truly have an amazing gift,” he raved.

  He hesitated to sit down next to her, not wanting to overstep her boundaries. She was already timid, tense, and guarded.

  “May I sit with you?” he asked.

  She looked up at his face and wondered why was he being so polite, somewhat formal with her. She was in his home, stalked by an unknown psycho, guarded by his security, and if he wanted to kill her right this moment, there was nothing stopping him. She shrugged, unsure of what was to become of her. She'd called to let Faye know where she would be for a few days, so that if she didn't show up for work, someone would know of her whereabouts.

  Trevor unbuttoned his jacket and took a seat at the foot of the bed, leaving enough space between them, allowing her a comfortable amount of personal space.

  “I have your phone, and I will have Mike check into it again. It might be best if we get you a new one, with a new number,” he waited for her response.

  “I'm not up for an upgrade in
my contract right now. I'll just call the phone company and get a new number,” she returned to her earlier position with her legs crossed in front of her.

  “I'm afraid that might not be enough. I will take care of getting a replacement phone for you. Right now, I want to know what you're feeling. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better right now?” he asked.

  She dropped her head, sighing heavily. She shook her head no, then got up to peek out of the curtains again. It had become habitual for her since arriving at his condo a little over an hour ago.

  “Would you like to talk about what's going on?” he asked her.

  “Don't you have work to do? A case to prepare for?” she snapped.

  “I do, but I also have a very capable team in place that is getting everything together. It's pretty cut and dry and I'm confident that my client will get everything we want for her,” he assured her that he had plenty of time to tend to her needs.

  “Look Trevor, I'm an adult. I don't need a babysitter, and I really wish that I had followed my gut instinct and not let you get to me,” she spouted, without turning from the window. “My life was so much simpler when my only stress was Faye insisting that I develop a relationship with you. It's almost like she has ulterior motives for us being together,” she turned to face him. He reacted to her thoughts of her best friend, and considered the video footage from earlier. Symóne hadn't notice, and continued her complaint.

  “When I called her to tell her what was going on and that you suggested I stay with her or you, she was almost too relieved to pass me off to you. Her excuses for me not coming to her house were weak,” she rolled her eyes and sat back down on the bed, this time at the head, putting more space between them.

  Trevor was at a loss for words that wouldn't alarm Symóne of his sudden concerns at the moment. If Faye did have ulterior motives for connecting her best friend with a high powered attorney, what would she need with a case file that was three years old, containing a law suit? He thought to himself.