Necessary Risk: Wolff Securities Book 4

by Lowery, Jennifer

  Necessary Risk

  Wolff Securities Book 4

  Jennifer Lowery

  Copyright © 2020 by Jennifer Lowery

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For all the readers who continue to follow me and read my books. You are the reason I write. Enjoy!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by Jennifer Lowery

  1

  Chris Wolff stared at the sailing catamaran anchored in front of him. Seventy-five foot with tall, pristine sails that rippled in the wind. He cocked his head, studying her. Compared to the rest of the yachts and sailboats in this marina she was understated. Unpretentious. Not showy or loud like others he’d passed on his way here. The Scott family may be wealthy, but they don’t flaunt it. At least not by this boat’s standards. He respected that.

  A gray-haired man waved to him from the fly helm before striding toward Chris. The captain, judging by his white shirt, tie and navy pants. Of course, the white and navy-blue captain’s hat gave it away, too.

  The man leaned over the railing to hold out a hand. “Captain Tim. You must be the security the Scotts’ hired.”

  Chris shook the man’s hand. “Chris Wolff. Wolff Securities.”

  “Nice to meet you, young man. Come aboard and I’ll show you around.”

  Chris climbed aboard, followed the captain up the steps to the cockpit, doing a quick scan of the floor compartments that led to the bowels of the ship. The hatches blended well with the wood floor. Oak, if he had to guess. Plush seating lined the edges of the deck and in front of him a wall of glass doors and windows with a curving staircase to the upper level.

  He didn’t mind a tour to learn the layout of the craft, but his main responsibility and priority was Layla Scott, the woman he’d been hired to protect.

  “Has Miss Scott arrived?” he asked.

  “Yes. She’s in her stateroom on a business call. She asked not to be bothered until she finished.”

  Chris nodded, already getting a feel for his charge. He respected her dedication to her career, but he had a job to do, also, and her work would come second to that. Her safety was his only priority. Not conference calls. He’d worked with wealthy business executives often in his career and they all had two things in common: they didn’t like to follow orders and they were unwilling to put their safety before work.

  He had a file on Scott Solutions, including all employees, backgrounds, job positions within the company. He knew it was a Fortune 500 company that Warren Scott started five years ago. Layla, his only daughter, was the main software developer for the company. Warren Scott had hired him as security for Layla’s trip to the Bahamas where she was giving a seminar on some new software. Chris didn’t foresee any immediate threats, but Mr. Scott felt the need for security and he intended to make sure everything ran smoothly.

  “How many crew members on board?” he asked the captain as they walked through the glass doors into the entertainment area of the boat. Modestly combined with the dining area. Again, nothing flashy or overstated. Neutral colors. Organized. Efficient. Classy. It even included a small lounge bar and flat screen television.

  “Just me. Layla prefers to sail with a skeleton crew. Usually just me.”

  Layla. First name basis. Interesting. “Not even a chef?”

  Tim shook his head. “Nope. Just a captain. Layla is a novice chef and prefers to cook for herself.”

  And the captain? Chris wondered briefly about the relationship between the two. Intimate? Professional? The man was old enough to be her father, but he knew better than to assume that would hinder a relationship. Not that it would affect the way he did his job. Miss Layla Scott could sleep with whomever she wanted.

  The captain led him to where the staterooms were located, indicating Layla’s closed door on the left. To the right he opened one of the doors and stood aside so Chris could enter.

  “This will be your stateroom,” Tim said. “There is an ensuite bathroom with all of the amenities.”

  Chris set his duffle on the floor next to the bed. A king that took up most of the cabin. Built-in dresser, more neutral colors. It did, however, have its own flat screen. More than adequate for his needs.

  “I’ll leave you to settle in,” the captain said. “We’ll be setting sail in thirty minutes.”

  “Mind if I explore a bit?” he asked. He’d go stir crazy sitting in his cabin. He needed to move. Investigate the engine room. The bowels of the ship where the mechanics were.

  “Not at all,” Tim said.

  Chris followed him back out into the entertainment area and back out the glass doors into the warm sunlight. He glanced up, noticing a few clouds had formed. Florida was known for its pop-up storms that only lasted five minutes, but poured enough rain to give everything a good soak. And, increase the humidity. He could feel his shirt sticking to his back already.

  While the captain parted to the fly bridge, Chris opened one of the hatches and climbed down. Miss Scott had her work to do and he had his. Time to learn what made this vessel tick.

  2

  Layla Scott felt the gentle pull of the boat leaving the marina and let out a soft sigh of relief. She took off her reading glasses and set them on her laptop keyboard, then leaned forward to rest her elbows on the desk and rub her eyes. They felt dry and scratchy from working through the night. Her new program was deeply involved. A government contract with a tight deadline. Getting all the bugs out proved to be a difficult task. One she could handle, but it was definitely a ten on the stress scale.

  Hence, this working vacation. The seminar she’d been asked to speak at just happened to be in the Bahamas at a five-star hotel. She’d been a guest speaker there before and she loved everything about the island and hotel. They treated her like royalty and although it wasn’t her style, sometimes she let herself enjoy the finer points in life. Never would she forget her humble beginnings and never would she fail to appreciate what she worked so hard for. She loved her father dearly, but they didn’t always see eye to eye on how to live their lives. He lorded his wealth over others. She kept to her roots.

  This government contract was big enough she could retire on. Also, not her style. She loved her work. Loved creating with numbers and algorithms. It was her happy place. Even with a high stress level, she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

  Ready for a change of scenery, she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. Maybe she’d take her yoga mat to the upper deck and stretch her tight muscles. Let her mind relax for awhile.

  First, though, she needed to go meet the bodyguard her father insisted on hiring. He didn’t travel without one and he didn’t allow her to. His reason being that they were wealthy and there was always someone who wanted what they had. A tainted way of looking at the world, but she didn’t argue. Picking her battles was something she’d learned at a very early age.

  Although, this battle was one she had lost. She never told her father about the incident with her last bodyguard. He had been younger than mos
t, but still ten years her senior. His ego knew no bounds. He had reminded her of one of those James Bond types. Charming, confident, good at his job. And a total jerk. At first, she’d thought his advances were innocent, getting to know who he was protecting. But things quickly escalated when he forced himself into her room late one night, claiming to have heard a noise, and proceeded to assault her.

  Layla shuddered, pushing the bad memories away fast. She didn’t want to remember that night and she sure as heck didn’t want it to ever happen again. She should have told her father about it, but he wasn’t the fatherly type in the sense that he would draw her into his arms for a comforting hug and try to make her feel better. No, he was all business and would have fired the guy without pay and probably sued him for breach of contract. That was how her father dealt with things. Legally. Layla still struggled with the father-daughter relationship but learned that fighting him only made him more distant. So, she’d simply told him she disliked that particular bodyguard and asked her father never to hire him again. He trusted her opinion and didn’t question it. The up side of a father who didn’t look past the surface.

  She felt bad making this bodyguard wait until she’d finished working, but the business call had been with the government attachè in charge of communicating with her about the progress of the program. A nice man, albeit a strict one. Military-precise in his instructions and straight to the point. She liked that. Fluff and frills didn’t get the job done. Maybe some of her father had rubbed off on her after all.

  Before leaving her room, she shut down her computer, put her notes away and cleaned up her desk. She trusted her father to vet the personal security service before he hired them, but she couldn’t be too careful. If any of her notes or files got stolen her career would be over. So would her relationship with her father.

  With dread clenching her stomach, she double-checked that she’d locked everything down and opened the door. Time to go meet her bodyguard. And pray he wasn’t like the last one.

  * * *

  Chris closed the hatch to the engine room and secured it. They’d left the marina nearly an hour ago. He’d learned what he needed to about the boat. Now it was time to meet his charge. She couldn’t hide in her stateroom forever.

  “Mr. Wolff?”

  At the sound of his name, he turned around to see a brunette standing on this side of the glass doors. She wore a pair of black yoga pants that hugged her shapely hips and legs to the knee. Matched with a pale pink t-shirt that also fit her slender curves. A pair of bright pink sandals completed the look which was more athletic than he’d expected. The photos he had of Layla Scott were headshots taken from the business website. They didn’t do her justice. There was something refreshing about the way her dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, curling down her back, her tanned skin and bright green eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes.

  “Miss Scott.” He strode toward her, outstretched his hand. She slid hers into his and gave a firm, confident shake, although he sensed a hesitancy, he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

  “Please, call me Layla. Miss Scott sounds too formal. And, too much like my stepmother.” Her lips turned up in a cordial smile that showed a row of pearly white teeth.

  “And you can call me Chris.” He let go of her hand.

  “I apologize for not being here to greet you when you arrived. My work doesn’t always coincide with my etiquette.”

  Lost in her smile, he could care less about etiquette. He suspected he could get lost in that smile forever if he wasn’t careful.

  “No problem. We should go over a few things.”

  She motioned for him to sit and they relaxed on one of the bench seats. Well, he relaxed, she looked ready to bolt the way she sat on the edge of the seat, hands clenched in her lap, and her back ramrod straight.

  “I’ve been through this many times,” she said. “I know the rules.”

  Good. Made his job easier. “As long as you let me do my job this will go smoothly.”

  Something flitted across her face but it disappeared before he could decide what it was.

  She gave him a curt nod. “Of course. I’m good at following orders.”

  Even better. This just may be one of the easiest jobs he’d taken. Which suited him just fine. Lately, he’d felt off kilter. Not on top of his game. And that could be lethal in his line of work. Quinn had argued with him about taking this one. Typical big brother insisting Chris wasn’t in his right mind. In the end, Chris had won, but Quinn sent him off with a warning that would send most cowering in the corner.

  It annoyed him that Quinn had noticed. They were all grieving in their own way. Chris used women and booze to numb the pain of losing his younger brother. He hadn’t been there to protect him and it haunted him every second of every day.

  Pushing the negative thoughts away, he silently berated himself for drifting. He’d been doing way too much of that lately. It was unprofessional and Layla deserved better.

  “Have you done any scuba diving?” Layla asked him.

  He was a SEAL. The ocean was his second home. “Not in a while.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to dive with me today. There’s a beautiful cove halfway between here and the Bahamas that I like to explore.”

  The invitation had been extended, but she didn’t sound as if she really wanted him to accept. He was beginning to feel like she didn’t like him. Or didn’t trust him. Maybe she had a thing against personal security. Wouldn’t be the first he’d met that didn’t feel a need for his services until shit hit the fan.

  The captain hadn’t said anything about stopping to dive. Definitely something he should have been told up front. Anger surged through him but he tamped it down. He hadn’t expected this from Layla. She just might be like all the rest of his charge’s after all.

  “Our course has changed then?” He didn’t like last minute changes. Not one damn bit.

  Layla frowned slightly. “I suppose.” She tilted her head. “You weren’t aware? I’m sorry. It was a last-minute decision. Not on the manifesto. I can have Tim take us straight to the island.”

  She rose to leave but he caught her wrist, feeling like an ass for letting her see his anger. He really needed to get his shit together.

  A startled gasp escaped her lips and she yanked her hand away. Chris mentally marked the reaction. Definitely something going on with her.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”

  She gave her ponytail a small toss, straightened her shoulders and visibly pulled herself together. “No. It’s fine. I’ll tell Tim to cancel the dive.”

  He stood, careful not to crowd her personal space. “Don’t do that. A small detour won’t hurt.”

  She looked relieved. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded and the lines of worry smoothed from her face. Pissed at himself for being the one to put them there, he vowed never to do it again.

  “I’m sure.”

  She smiled. “Good. We have some extra wetsuits on board. Shall we find one to fit?”

  3

  Chris cut through the water, relishing in the familiar weightlessness that surrounded him. It had been a long time since he’d been in the ocean and damn if he didn’t miss it.

  This probably wasn’t what he should be doing while on the job. It felt more like leisure than work. He justified it by Layla being his charge and whatever she did, he did.

  Something tapped his shoulder. He spun to see Layla pointing down. He nodded and they dove deeper. Colorful fish darted around them. Below them were banks of colored coral and reef. Pocketed and untouched by humans. This place was perfect for diving, he had to give Layla credit for that.

  Side by side they swam around the coral reefs, enjoying the beauty that surrounded them. Here, Chris felt at peace. The water had always had that effect on him. Back home, his place was on Bleu Lake. Along with all of his brothers and parents. The deep blue lake had served as therapy for all of them at one point in their lives. For Chris, it
balanced him when shit got real. Lately, he’d spent a lot of time in that water.

  Layla seemed more relaxed now, too. Some of the tension had left her slender body and the lines on her face had smoothed out. He got the impression her job stressed her out. Working with his brothers got stressful sometimes. Maybe working for her father added the same kind of angst.

  He checked his watch. They’d been down nearly an hour. He stopped paddling to get Layla’s attention. She floated next to him, watched him point to his watch. Her green eyes looked even more luminous behind the goggles. She nodded and they began their ascent.

  As they neared the surface, the hairs on the back of Chris’s neck bristled. He’d learned long ago not to ignore the warning.

  He reached out and grasped Layla by the arm, bringing her to a stop. She frowned at him. He held up a hand, swiveling his head for signs of danger. These waters were infested with sharks.

  But he didn’t see anything besides a few small fish. They weren’t darting away from danger so he didn’t think a shark was near. What had alerted him?

  Layla squeezed his forearm. He met her questioning gaze. His gut told him something was wrong he just couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Deciding to get back to the boat, Chris started the ascent once again. He stuck close to Layla, constantly scanning the waters for signs of what had set him on edge.

  They broke the surface and the hairs on his neck began to sing. Seconds later he found the reason why.

  Three armed men stood on the catamaran, AK’s pointed at him and Layla.