by Jean Oram
“The woman I’m watching needs more security.”
“The single mom?”
“Someone pulled a gun on her today.”
Florence’s eyes widened and she sat straighter. “What are you doing here? You need to be guarding them.”
“I was relieved by Chuck.”
“Chuck?” She gave a scornful snort.
Evander chewed on his lower lip, then stood. Chuck wasn’t the most attentive or well-trained bodyguard Evander’s old buddy Tyrone Bellingham had working for his security company, and Evander had bitterly complained about that fact to his mother on more than one occasion. The only thing reliable about Chuck was that he was the weak link on any job. Which meant Chuck shouldn’t be the one on night watch after what had gone on today. “Excuse me a moment.”
His mom gave a nod and Evander pulled out his cell phone, moving into the next room, sending Rudolph scuttling from his hiding spot, belly low to the floor. Evander braced a hand on the oversize door frame and called his boss, Tyrone.
“Hey, it’s Evander. We need better security on the Daphne Summer case.”
Tyrone cursed under his breath. “What happened?”
“Nothing further.” Thank goodness Tristen had had the presence of mind to switch Evander from Melanie to Daphne that morning. “Have you checked in with Tristen?”
“Of course. As soon as you told me about what happened in the park. He says nothing happened over there today, but he’s adding a couple of extra patrols around his house as a precaution. And word on the street is that the Hells Angels are watching out for Melanie.” Tyrone gave a small chuckle.
“Good.”
“I emailed the extra background checks you wanted about half an hour ago.”
“Thanks. Is there security on their mother or the other two sisters?”
“None has been requested through my firm, so I can’t say for certain. But last I heard, Finian and Hailey have their own private detail that’s moving with them. No word on Maya or the mother, Catherine.”
Last month, Daphne’s eldest sister, Hailey, had needed Evander to help ward off the frothing paparazzi when she’d hooked up with the movie star Finian Alexander. Since then, the photographer had been on the road, with short stopovers to her home in Muskoka, and the star had been off filming and opening movies, meaning they had stepped beyond the local services Tyrone generally offered.
“Daphne needs twenty-four/seven security and you need to up her to a level four,” Evander said. “You need someone better than Chuck.”
“Four?” Tyrone protested. “Tristen’s only paying for level one, man. Basic tailing and intervening as needed. We don’t make those calls. We just deliver what they order.”
“I know.”
“She’s not a dignitary.”
“She’s a mom, and she’s in danger.”
Evander had done a full dossier on the family last month when he’d covered Finian, needing to know what he was getting into. At that time he’d found pretty much nothing on the Summers, but since then things had definitely changed. In the past six weeks three of the sisters had hooked up with rich men. They co-owned a cottage that was about to go up for tax sale, and none of the Summers had much in the way of money. He was trained to look for connections, and these sudden hook-ups felt as though they went beyond simple coincidence. Something was at play here. Whether it might impact the case, he didn’t know, but it was worth keeping in the forefront of his mind.
“We need to do some pretty serious paperwork,” Tyrone said. “Permits, consent, release forms and more if we want to intervene at level four.”
“She needs more than Chuck across the street at night.”
Tyrone sighed.
“I’ll pay the extra,” Evander muttered.
“You’re going to end up paying to work this job.”
As an unannounced member of the billionaire boys’ club, Evander didn’t have a problem paying the bill in order to keep Daphne safe. She was a mom. In his mind, keeping her safe no matter the cost was a no-brainer.
“Fine. Whatever. I need the sanity the distraction will bring.”
“The world’s richest security guard pays to work for me so he doesn’t have to think about the fact that princes don’t pay him to get blown up any longer, and he’s just a measly civilian like the rest of us. I should make that my company motto or something.”
“Shut up. Talk to Tristen about my recommendations, and in the meantime, I’ll cover any additional expenses.” It wasn’t as if Evander had anything better to do. He wasn’t fit for the army or high-risk elite security any longer. His leg had healed well enough from the blast that had earned him the big payout from the Middle Eastern prince he’d saved, but not enough for the work he used to do.
“Has your impartiality been compromised?” Tyrone asked.
“I don’t have a crush on her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Him with Daphne? It was obvious that the two of them would never see eye to eye, nor get along. It didn’t help that Evander was no longer made for real life, and everything about Daphne was innocence and genuine vitality—life itself. Plus, she had a lovechild with that good-for-nothing, piece of work Mistral Johnson, who had a silver spoon welded into his mouth. That guy knew nothing about the struggles of the real world.
Assuming there still was one.
“Ever thought that maybe the police should be watching her?” Tyrone asked, and Evander knew his friend was going to approve upping the security on Daphne no matter what it took, but was checking him for emotional baggage attached to the case.
“Ever think maybe they don’t have the manpower to do it right?”
“I hate it when you get like this. You know that?”
“You’ve hated me since boot camp, when I threw your heavy butt over that wall when you couldn’t make it on your own.” Evander gave a smug smile, waiting for the retaliation he knew was coming from his longtime friend.
“You had to throw everyone over that wall.”
“That’s all I get for a comeback?”
“Kids are in the room,” Tyrone muttered. When the man had finished his first tour, he’d come home to be with his wife and kids, opening a security business. But frankly, it didn’t get a lot of action in the danger department and he was getting soft. The man was using his hard-earned skills to spy on unfaithful spouses more often than actually protecting anyone’s life. Although some of those wives sure got dangerous when they saw photographic evidence that they were no longer honored and cherished by their husbands as the one and only.
“Don’t let it get personal, man,” Tyrone said. “Don’t let her get under your skin and skew your judgment.”
“I haven’t gotten soft like you, Tyrone,” Evander said, ending the call.
He thought about Chuck watching Daphne. The man was being paid to sit in a car across from the house, and was likely sleeping on the job. Any enemy worth his salt would take full advantage of that, and after what had gone on today, Evander knew he had underestimated the crazy side of Daphne’s ex by at least a full point.
He rejoined his mother in the sitting room.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked, knowing she hadn’t. In fact, there was no hint of supper, despite it being after six.
“I was waiting for you.”
She still hadn’t moved from her chair, and Evander knew without a doubt that something was up.
“You okay?” he asked lightly.
Florence waved him away. “Just thinking.”
He picked up a plate that was littered with the corner crusts from her morning toast. It was unlike her to leave them lying around. Pausing in the doorway, he watched his mother, feeling torn.
“I can hear you thinking all the way over here,” she said, without turning around.
He took his spot on the stool again, placing the plate on the floor so he could grasp his mother’s cool hands. They always felt so small in his and he stared at them in wonder. How could a woman w
ho’d won boxing matches in her youth have such delicate fingers?
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He drew in a long breath. “Are you going to be okay on your own?”
“I have been for years.”
He knew the comment wasn’t intended to make him feel guilty, as his mother had always encouraged him to go out and see the world, even going as far as to join the navy. Still, the guilt he felt was uncharacteristically strong. She needed help, but obviously didn’t feel she could ask for it, for fear of interfering with whatever he had going on. Which meant it was big. Frustration welled up inside him, threatening to burst out as anger.
“Go. She needs you,” his mom said. “I’ll hold supper.”
“I shouldn’t be longer than an hour or two, to get things sorted out. I’ll bring pizza home if you haven’t eaten by then.” He stood and gave his mother a light kiss on the forehead, unable to dismiss the feeling that she needed him.
“Can you give Rudolph his treats before you go?”
The cat came into the room, meowing perkily, and Evander scooped him up, heading to the kitchen to doctor his ear.
With the cat fixed up and only one new scratch on Evander’s hand, he unlocked the carriage house out back where he kept his gear, knowing that every moment he took to get ready was a moment Daphne was poorly protected.
It was time to move, move, move. The clock was ticking, and his nervous system tingled in anticipation, but he needed to get himself prepared. Take it slow and methodically. Think things through. Taking a minute now could save ten later.
He placed a GPS tracking button in his front pants pocket and double-checked the ammo clips for his holstered handgun, as well as the one strapped to his leg. Knife, present and sharp. He moved on, riffling through his meager gear with purpose. A lot hadn’t come home with him from the Middle East, and he had been slowly restocking again.
He debated taking his entire duffel of supplies, but instead chose carefully. He didn’t have permission to do any of the things he planned to do to the woman’s house. He needed to be discreet. He didn’t know Daphne well, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate having her house monitored, even if it was for her own safety. He held a bug in his fist, contemplating. He lowered his hand, dropping the bug back into its case, leaving it in the duffel. Later. Priority items first.
The monitoring gear he needed fitted in a large zip-top bag, and he placed it in his truck, wishing it had a backseat, before going to check on his mom once again. His leg was bothering him today and he kneaded the spot above his knee as he entered the house.
“Just me again!” he called, wincing as the security alarm went off. Digging through the pockets of his cargo pants, he pulled out his phone, silencing the alarm. If that app ever stopped working he’d be doomed.
He was getting rusty, fast. Just like Tyrone. He needed more discipline, as well as a schedule.
“You’d think this place was Fort Knox,” his mom said from the other room. “But then again, you always liked your toys.” She gave a light laugh, followed by a cough as he entered the sitting room.
“You sure you’re okay?” The cold that had been wearing her down seem to be going on for much too long. “I can take you to the walk-in clinic tomorrow night after my shift.”
“A woman is allowed to cough without dying, you know.”
A feeling of dread settled deep within him. “Who said anything about dying?”
“It’s just an expression, Evander.”
Knowing he was less than square emotionally, he set out to put at least one aspect of his life back in order—Daphne.
3
Daphne allowed her sister Hailey to hoist Tigger out of the family’s Boston Whaler and onto the dock at Nymph Island for the impromptu late-supper picnic. The four sisters—with no boyfriends in tow—had even managed to round up their honorary sister, Simone, to join them, making it just like old times. Single Daphne wouldn’t be the third wheel at their jointly owned cottage tonight. She could sit back and enjoy the peace and her family. She’d be able to breathe and act as though her life was normal.
Evander, when he’d gone home for the night, had told her to stay locked in the house, and that a man named Chuck would be watching her from a car on the street if she needed anything. When Hailey—just home from Europe where her boyfriend was filming Man versus War II—had phoned, suggesting they all go to the cottage for a picnic, Daphne hadn’t thought twice about leaving the house. Evander had told her there was safety in numbers, and traveling in a group was another form of following his orders. He couldn’t get upset about that, could he? Just thinking about her afternoon made her hands shake, and she slowed her breathing, determined not to allow it to get to her.
Daphne unpacked bags of food from the boat, lost in her thoughts. The whole place, from the aging dock to the tip of the cottage’s roof, needed so much work. Work her family couldn’t afford to have done. In fact, if Daphne didn’t somehow pull a miracle out of thin air, she’d be the one who lost their beloved island to the taxman in two short weeks. She’d asked her sisters if they’d consider asking their boyfriends for loans to make up the difference in what they had and what they owed. But all of them feared they might never be able to pay the men off again. This summer was the test. If they couldn’t handle the taxes by themselves, then it was time to let go, because what would happen next year or the year after, if they borrowed money to get through now? They were in this situation because they hadn’t been able to keep up with the payments for several years.
“I can’t believe they’re ruining Heritage Row,” Melanie said, from her position on the end of the dock. “Termites. How stupid do they think we are?” She pointed to the charred remains of the cottage that had burned down only a few days ago. “And I know we’re going to find evidence of arson with that one. Then we’ll have Rubicore right by the—”
Daphne tossed a backpack at Melanie, distracting her from her rant.
“Mark my words, Maya,” Melanie said, lowering the bag onto the weather-worn planking. “I’m going to save those remaining cottages.”
“Didn’t Rubicore buy the Fredericksons’ place?” Maya asked.
“Where did you hear that?” Melanie’s voice was breathless with outrage, and Hailey patted her on the back and gently guided her toward the cottage path.
“It seems like something they would do,” Maya said to Simone, who nodded in agreement as she readjusted her shiny black locks into a fresh ponytail.
Daphne pretended to look for something in the boat as the other women trickled up the hill, still discussing the endless battle about heritage and Mistral’s company. Her sisters knew little of real life. About real struggles and heartbreak. And the last thing Daphne needed after her day with Evander was the group of them ganging up on her and telling her how to run her life in regards to Mistral. Typically, if they talked about Rubicore long enough, her ex-boyfriend—one of the company’s partners—would come up, as well as a lecture about how Daphne should deal with things.
She climbed out of the boat once everyone was well ahead of her. Her daughter was already halfway up the path, grinning from ear to ear, pleased to have her aunts together here, at her favorite place in the whole world. With a flounce of her party dress and a flash of bare feet, Tigger vanished up the last turn, Hailey hot on her heels.
On the cottage veranda minutes later, Daphne began unpacking the picnic, with Simone quietly helping. Soon a feast was laid out on the outdoor dining table, and they all sat down to eat.
Tigger, bouncing in her spot as she ate the last bite of her potato salad, asked, “Can I go work on my fairy houses?”
At Daphne’s count, her daughter had built about fifteen elaborate fairy houses around the island. They were made of driftwood, leaves, pinecones, small pebbles and other natural treasures, plus coins her daughter had collected with the make-believe fairies in mind.
Daphne nodded permission, and Melanie pushed away from the table, saying, “I’l
l go with you, Tigger. I want to see the latest additions.”
“Can I come, too?” Simone asked.
Tigger snatched her hand, pulling her from the table.
“Maybe the fairies need new dresses?” the woman asked, waving over her shoulder to the sisters left behind. She owned her own boutique in Port Carling and had begun to branch out, designing her own fashions, in particular 1950s-inspired sundresses that looked amazing on Melanie’s curvy figure.
Daphne had been half hoping Melanie would stay at the table so they could resolve their recent differences over including Tigger’s father in their lives. Instead, her sister had taken the first excuse to run off. While Daphne wasn’t quite ready to allow Melanie back into her house, she needed Evander and all his intensity out of her space.
Tigger ripped up the hill, chattering a mile a minute, her excited voice fading as the three moved out of earshot.
Hailey and Maya exchanged a look and Daphne tensed.
This whole excursion had been a setup and she’d walked right into. Maybe she did need Evander in her life, if only to protect her from her sisters and their traps.
Maya cleared her throat. “There’s no easy or gentle way to say this. But the upshot of it all is that we think Mistral is dangerous and you should avoid him. Get a restraining order.”
Hailey added quickly, “He pulled a gun on you today.”
“How do you know about that?” Daphne stood, palms flat on the table’s cool surface. There was a chill in the air and it seeped into her bones. “Have you been talking to Evander?”
“This is getting out of hand,” Hailey said, brows pinched together.
“No. Everyone’s interference is getting out of hand. A simple, peaceable situation went south because Tristen’s hired gunman, Evander de la Fosse, was there.”
“Thank goodness he was,” Maya said, arms crossed. “I can’t believe Mistral pulled a gun on you.”
