Frost Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  Richard's old Jeep was just barely visible in my rear view mirror. In fact, if I hadn’t known I was being tailed, I wouldn't have even thought twice about it. What did that say about me, though? Just lackadaisically going through life without a care in the world?

  Knowing he was close by like this, though, did make me feel better, jokes about security blankets aside. There was just something about him that I was drawn to. I'd never been much for his type of guy, always gravitating toward more of the artist types who preferred to curl up with a good book or go to an art museum, rather than hit the gym. But there was something about those strong arms of his, and the way his chest had felt as he held me against it.

  “Ugh, what am I doing?” I muttered to myself as I reached the halfway marker to my house. “He's my security guy! I’m not Whitney Houston and this isn’t some chick flick. He’s only watching out for me because I’m paying him to, nothing more. He doesn’t actually like me! Ugh, so stupid.”

  A few minutes later, I pulled into my driveway and waited. I could hear my dogs Eli and Wallach going crazy inside as they heard my car pull up. I hated having to wait out here with them just inside, knowing they wanted to be let out, but Richard had told me to wait for him.

  Conifer trees dotted the property the cabin was built on, giving it a picture perfect look. The place I rented was small with only two bedrooms, but I didn’t mind. It was cozy and comfortable. That was how it felt during the winter, at least, when the snow was really blowing in. It was more than enough space for me and my two boys. Plus, it backed up to a little stretch of creek and some flatter, rocky grasslands where I could take them to go run each morning. I mean, sure, I wanted a family some day, but who, pray tell, was I supposed to make one with?

  I sat there for a good minute waiting for Richard to arrive, but when Eli started his miserable howling, I caved. He just sounded so lonesome and desperate in there, even with his brother Wallach right next to him. And then, of course, they both began crying together, and that was too much for me to handle.

  I was weak.

  I climbed out of my car, purse in hand, and headed up the driveway. I silently hoped there weren’t any serial killers or any other psychos waiting around the corner for me.

  Much to the delight of my boys, I marched up the little walkway to the front door, keys jingling in my hand. Eli bellowed at me with deep barks, while Wallach yelped next to him, both pacing back and forth in front of the door.

  “Hold your horses, guys!” I groaned as they got louder.

  I quickly unlocked the door and marched into the house. Eli, a huge Hound Mutt with traces of Bloodhound and God only knows what else, bellowed again, nearly rattling the windows with his deep bass. Beside him, Wallach, my Corgi mix, ran in circles, yapping and jumping in excitement.

  “Come on, guys!” I shouted excitedly, ushering them to the back door that led to the small deck, which overlooked the trees down a small hilly field behind the cabin. “Come on, let's go out!”

  They followed me out, with Eli almost topping me over, jumping up and down and pouncing, as I led them through the backdoor. At night, I'd never have let them run around like this. There was way too much wildlife in the area for them to be safe—bobcats, lynx, coyotes, bears, and more. During the day, though, I wasn't too worried about them running into something like that, so I generally let them out to clear some of their pent up energy.

  As I shut the back door on them, I heard a knock on the front door. A loud, insistent one. “Jessica!” It was Richard.

  Shit. Busted. I winced as I practically ran across my small living room to let him in. “Coming! I'm alive, don't worry!”

  I flipped back the deadbolt and threw the door open.

  There he was, standing over me and glowering. “Thought I told you to wait in the car?”

  I sighed as I stood aside, gesturing for him to come in. “Sorry, I know I wasn't supposed to, but my dogs got all excited when they heard me pull up, so I had to let them out! I figured, you know, if there was anyone inside, they wouldn't have been howling like they normally do.”

  He just sighed as he stopped in the living room, looking around. “Wow,” he said, the anger seeming to fade from his voice in some sort of weird moment of surprise. “Just. Wow.”

  “Wow what?”

  “You’ve got a shit ton of turtles, don't you?”

  I blinked and looked around my little cabin, at the little turtle figurines on the side table, the sea turtle paintings on the living room walls, the turtle coffee cups hanging by the coffee pot, the small statue of a mock turtle from Alice in Wonderland in the corner, the turtle blanket tossed over the back of a couch—the list of turtle memorabilia went on. I never noticed these additions because they happened incrementally over time, despite passing through these rooms for years.

  It hadn't been intentional or anything. I mean, my three loves have always been art, the mountains, and the oceans. I’d majored in Art in school and minored in Oceanography, and lived in the mountains, if that explained anything. I'd picked up some art pieces along the way, ones that really spoke to me, that reminded me of my love for oceans since I was so far away from them and only had the mountains. And, to me, nothing said the ocean like sea turtles. It didn’t occur to me how it’d appear to the regular person.

  “Guess I do,” I said, suddenly a little embarrassed by the sheer volume of turtles. “But it's not all my fault.”

  He chuckled. “No?”

  “Well, okay, it is. But not for the reasons you think. After I started up the art gallery–”

  “The Curious Turtle.”

  “–The Curious Turtle, right, everyone just started giving me turtle gifts, okay? And, besides, these aren't all turtles. A lot of them are tortoises!”

  “So you don't discriminate?”

  I laughed. “No, it's not me. It's people. They see things with shells and they think turtle, and then they think Jessica.”

  He nodded, smiling. “Got it. I’ll keep that in mind come Christmas. In the meantime, I should really check out the place. Have you been in the other rooms yet?”

  “No,” I replied, shaking my head, “just got home a couple minutes before you did. Only had a chance to let the boys out. Feel free.” At the same time I said this, my mind was going one hundred miles an hour trying to remember if I left anything more embarrassing lying around, especially in my bedroom.

  “Thanks,” he said, his hand resting on the gun at his side,.

  I didn't bat an eye at his gun. It was his job, after all. Here in the High Rockies, you can find some really liberal people, and you can find some really conservative people. Generally, though, you don't find a lot of gun control people. When you have bears outside your back doors, or giant cats that could run off with your dogs at night, you tend to learn how to use a rifle or a shotgun. Even I knew how to shoot and kept my grandpa's old shotgun in the house.

  Of course, I didn't keep it loaded or anything. I was cautious, but not paranoid.

  He went through my small house, as I stayed behind in the living room. I chewed my nail nervously when he peered into my messy closet and saw the makeup lying haphazardly all over my bathroom sink.

  “House is clear,” he said as he rejoined me. “One thing, though, something you may consider if you haven't already.”

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “Some organizational supplies?” he replied, deadpan. “I hear they have people who'll come in and do it for you.”

  I rolled my eyes at his grin. I was going to respond, but I heard my boys scratching at the back door, and instead turned to go let them in. Eli and Wallach came tumbling into the house in a ball of slobbery, dusty fur, both falling over each other to get past me and to Richard.

  Eli bayed first, louder than normal, but Richard immediately dropped to his knees, bringing himself down to the dogs' levels. Wallach hung back for a moment, his little tail twitching in confusion, like he wasn't sure how to take this stranger, who was now looking him in th
e eye.

  “Eli's a little timid,” I said, “but he won't bite or anything.”

  “Oh, no,” Richard said, hand outstretched, “of course he won't. Will you, boy?”

  Eli edged forward more quickly than I'd ever seen him move, adjusting well. He sniffed at Richard's offered hand and his tail began to wag even faster.

  My security blanket grinned widely and held out his other hand. “Eli, huh? You like me, don't you?”

  The big Hound wagged his tail harder, trotted closer, and licked his hand.

  “Yeah, you do,” he said as Wallach came running up to him, jumping on his knee in an effort to not be left out of the attention. He scratched and pet both of them, more at ease with the dogs than any of the previous men or friends I'd ever brought home. For Pete's sake, both of them were still timid even with Sheila and Karen when either of them stopped by. And they'd known my boys for a couple years at least.

  “What's this one's name?” Richard asked, nodding to my little Corgi.

  “Wallach.”

  “Eli and Wallach?” he replied, laughing. “Really?”

  I smiled and brushed my hair behind my ear. “Don't tell me you actually know who Eli Wallach is.”

  “My dad raised me on old Westerns before he passed away. How couldn't I?”

  I laughed, clapping my hands. “You and Grandpa are probably the only two people I know who'd appreciate it.”

  He grinned up at me, rising to his feet and towering back over me again.

  I gestured back to the fridge. “You want a beer or something? I know it's still early.”

  “Can't,” he said regretfully. “On the clock. Tea or coffee, if you got it.”

  “Water while I put some coffee on? After I feed my boys, of course.”

  “Sure, that sounds fine.”

  I retreated into the kitchen, a stupid little smirk on my lips as I went about the task of feeding my dogs. They each got half a can of wet food mixed with some dry food, and a little pumpkin puree to go with it to keep their stomachs settled and bowel systems regular.

  “How long have you lived in Colorado?” I called back into the living room.

  “A couple years. Moved out here when Peter and I met.”

  When they met? Were they—? Shit, I hadn't gotten that vibe from them at all! I stopped in my tracks. “When you two met, huh?”

  He cleared his throat in the other room. “Yeah, he had the idea for the security agency, so we came up here to open it together.”

  I bit my lip and sighed. Oh well, I thought. Win some, lose some. And some are just gay.

  Dammit. It wasn’t like I had a shot anyway.

  Chapter Eight – Richard

  I realized what I'd said, and the implication of it, as soon as the words left my mouth. I swore quietly, hoping she wouldn't hear me, and made a face. I scratched behind my ear nervously, worried I'd given her the wrong impression. “Yeah, he and I met at a bar in Texas.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said from the kitchen, her voice a little confused.

  Dammit. I was digging the hole even deeper. “But, I mean, Peter's a great boss. And a friend. And, uh, you know, that's it.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice slightly higher in surprise as she plopped the dogs’ food down in their bowls. “Okay. I just, um, didn’t know how close you two were.”

  I laughed uncertainly. “Yeah, we're just like family, that's all. Like brothers, more than…”

  She laughed. “It's okay. I get it, Richard. You can stop backtracking.” She moved around in the kitchen, prepping coffee and getting it brewing.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and ran a hand back through my hair.

  Then I shook my head. Here I was, being nervous around this woman I just met and losing focus of what I should be doing. I was suddenly more concerned about whether or not she thought Peter and I had a thing going with each other than I was about her safety.

  This was about me doing my job, not getting a date, I reminded myself. I needed to keep my head in the game.

  I went into the kitchen and glanced around. “While that's brewing,” I said, “I'm going to go take a walk around the area. You gonna be fine in here alone?”

  “Yeah,” she said, glancing back at me, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, “of course. Coffee should take a minute anyways.”

  I nodded and went out the back, the dogs too focused on their supper to even think about me.

  Dogs and shifters had a special relationship, it seemed. For whatever reason, probably one that Peter could explain in greater detail over a couple beers, we had a certain affinity with domesticated animals. They didn't treat us like humans or like wildlife. Instead, they were even friendlier than normal. Maybe it had to do with our knowing how to treat them? The way we smelled? I wasn't sure one way or another, I just knew I'd never had a problem with dogs, or even cats, before.

  I stepped out onto the back deck and let out a low whistle. It was quite the view from back here. The mountains rose just a short distance away on the other side of the valley, majestically poking their heads through the pine trees. A swath of green and yellow grass lay between the cabin and the mountains.

  I couldn’t lie, I missed Texas' big open sky, where the azure heavens seemed to stretch endlessly above you. But there was still something to be said of the awe-inspiring Rockies, and their peaks that dwarfed every living creature on the planet.

  I stepped off the deck and began to stroll around the area. The marks of a hundred wild animals and their nightly passing filled my nose. Had I been in my wolf form, it'd be a sensory overload, like staring into a Pollock painting you could somehow discern the madness from. But now, in my human form, it was just curious and intriguing. Over it all, of course, I could smell her scent. Jessica's.

  I shook my head, trying to get my attraction out of my head. “On a job, Richard,” I muttered as I walked down to the little creek at the back of her property, out into the yellow and green grass. “On a job.”

  The sun would go down soon. Not the official sunset, of course, but behind the mountains entirely. I still needed to discuss with her where I should park the Jeep for my watch. Did she know of a place I could park it up the road or on the property where I could leave it without drawing attention? I'd seen a spot when I came up the driveway, but I wanted to know if it was stable before I parked the Wrangler there.

  With my head a little clearer, I turned back from the creek and began to head back up to Jessica's house, with her two dogs and all her turtle paintings and statues. “Of all the things to have in the middle of the mountains,” I muttered, laughing a little. “Turtles.”

  She had a cup of coffee waiting for me when I got back inside the house. “Wasn't sure how you took it,” she replied, pressing the mug into my hand.

  “Black's fine, thanks,” I replied, taking a sip. It was good coffee. Not over the top, or anything, but definitely not Folger's.

  “How's this going to work?” she asked as she headed into the living room and took a seat on one of the couches, the one with the turtle blanket on the back. She curled up around her own mug of hot coffee. “Tonight, I mean.”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing. I saw a spot out next to the driveway, sort of shielded by a pine tree. Is it stable enough to park my Jeep there?”

  She nodded. “We used it for extra parking during my housewarming a few years back, so it should be fine. But you can, you know, sleep on the couch if you'd like. It'd be more comfortable.”

  I chewed my lip, considering it, but shook my head as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “To be honest, Peter might not like it. He'd probably prefer I stuck to protocol.”

  “Well,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee, “you can just tell your boss screw protocol.”

  I blinked in surprise.

  “Look,” Jessica continued, “you and Peter both warned me this might escalate. I don't want you parked out front if that escalation happens tonight. Where would that leave me? What if they decide
to just come through the back?”

  “I'd still be able to get inside,” I assured her.

  “But what if it’s too late? I would sleep more soundly if I knew you were out here, even while your boss was taking the second half of the watch.”

  I leaned forward and set my mug on the coffee table. “Let me call him and see if he's okay with it. If he is, I can just stay in here. No big deal. I'd appreciate it, actually.”

  She nodded. “Good.”

  As I headed out back, I could feel Eli, Wallach, and Jessica's eyes all following me. I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Peter.

  “Frost here.”

  “Richard,” I replied. “She wants me to stay in the house all night tonight, even while you’re taking watch outside. I know it's against protocol, but I think–”

  “Do it,” Frost said, cutting me off. “Just don't get too comfortable. You have any problems, you know where to reach me.” Then, just like that, he hung up. I barely even had a chance to react, the conversation happened so quickly.

  “Well,” I said, pocketing my phone again, “okay then.” I went back into the house and Eli and Wallach jumped to meet me, tails wagging. “Boss says it's fine by him if I stay in here instead of out front.”

  “There you go, then,” she said, grinning. “Told you I'd get my way.”

  I chuckled. I was pretty sure she was used to that happening.

  “Now, onto dinner,” she continued. “Are you hungry? You fine with spaghetti? Because it's what I have ingredients for.”

  I shrugged. I wasn't used to a home-cooked meal. Most of the time I just ate at Dixie's or at one of the other places around town. “Sure, I guess.”

  She laughed and got up from the couch. “Great!” she said. “Because I'm getting tired of not having anyone to cook for.”

  I smiled a little, enjoying the moment. I was getting a home-cooked meal from a beautiful woman. Why shouldn't I smile?

  Just then, I heard tires slowing as a car pulled off the highway and onto the drive outside.

  She shot me a startled look.