Page 6 of Ashes to Ashes

Chapter Three

Rae

The black SUV with tinted,bullet-proof windows drove through the darkened passage of an underground garage. As the industrial-grade door clanged shut behind us, Charlotte laughed nervously. “Should we be worried?”

“If I’m not safe here, I’m not safe anywhere,” I remindedher.

She leaned forward a bit and looked out the window. “I’m pretty sure I saw this place in a kidnapping movie,” she said with a tremulous laugh. Inappropriate humor was how she dealt with her nerves.

Drinking was how I dealt with mine. Or it had been. Now, I usually counted to one hundred and waited for the moment to pass. But when I reached ninety-nine and still hadn’t calmed down, I swiveled on the leather to face my friend. “Maybe this is a bad idea,” I said, wringing my hands. “What if we’re being followed?” Showing up at a building with the company’s name written in bold white lettering didn’t exactly scream subtle.

“Keeping you safe is not a bad idea,” Charlotte answered as the vehicle slowed to a stop in front of a steel gray door.There stood a man in a black suit, black shirt, and black tie. As he stepped forward to open my door, she laid her hand on my arm. “And if we’re being followed, that person is an idiot. This place is like Fort Knox here. Everything’s going to beokay.”

I know she wanted to believe that, but so far, all evidence pointed to the contrary. Earlier, Charlotte had swung by my house with a police escort to pick up more of my personal belongings, and when they’d arrived, the officer sensed something wasn’t right. He’d immediately turned around and driven Charlotte back to the station. When he’d returned with Detective Staufferson in tow, they’d found “die bitch” scrawled across my garage door in a viscous red liquid Staufferson believed was animal blood.

Needless to say, no one was returning to my house anytime soon. And I didn’t know where Charlotte and I would be spending the night since the man who ran McClintock Security had told Rocky we needed to immediately clear us out of the hotel. Having lived my life on the road for years on end, being itinerant wasn’t a hardship, but I felt awful for Charlotte. My drama had taken over her life aswell.

“Good afternoon Miss Griffin,” the suited man greeted us in a deep baritone. “Right this way.” He punched in a code and the metal door swung open. Stepping aside so we could go through, he said, “McClintock is waiting upstairs to briefyou.”

“Thank you, Mister …?”

“Gage,” came his abrupt reply.

“Thank you, Mr. Gage.”

“Just Gage. No mister.”

Next to me Charlotte snickered and I could almost read her mind. This exchange sounded an awful lot like something you’d hear in one of her favorite spy movies.

“Please tell me your first name is Jason,” she said with a sly smile, referencing her favorite spy of all—Jason Bourne.It wasn’t that she loved the character, per se. The truth was, Charlotte had a deep and abiding love for all things Matt Damon.

“I’m sorry, ma’am?” Gage asked as a perplexed frown crossed his brows.

Charlotte groaned. “You had to go and ruin my fantasy by calling me ma’am, didn’tyou?”

Gage looked at Charlotte like she’d sprouted two heads, and I suppressed a laugh. I loved Charlotte like a sister, but she could be a handful. I’d had years to get used to her antics, but poor Gage hadn’t had even a moment to acclimate to her particular brand of crazy.

Straightening to his full height, he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and crossed his hands in front of him. “My apologies.”

“Miss Jones,” I supplied.If he was going to use my last name, he could damn well use hers too. I hated when people treated assistants like they weren’t worthy of notice, and I’d be damned if this brute was going to “ma’am” her when I’d bet good money he absolutely knew her name. McClintock Security hadn’t become the best celebrity security company in the country by not doing its research. The second they’d agreed to take me on as a client, they would have pulled a file on all of my closest associates, and Charlotte’s name was at the very top of thatlist.

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. “After you, Miss Griffin. And Miss Jones.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, I spied a slight smirk cross his lips as we walked past, but when I turned back around his face was an impassive mask once again.

Gage pressed the button for the fifteenth floor and stood between us and the elevator bay. Not that there was any danger afoot here, but out in the real world, you could never be too sure. With a twitch of my lips, I recalled this being something of a game back in Brazil with my previous guards. They hadn’t appreciated me trying to get one over on them, but at the time, I hadn’t appreciated being watched like a hawk every second of every day either. The only place I’d had a moment of privacy was in the bathroom, but even then, Fitch and Maguire hovered outside like silent sentinels. There was nothing quite so embarrassing as two men hearing the sound of your pee hitting the porcelain.

“So,you’re Gage and McClintock owns the company. Do you all go by one name? Is this like a Bond thing?” Charlotte asked.

“It’s not a Bond thing,” Gage grunted.

Charlotte pushed off the wall and stood next to him. “So, you’re not all super-secret spies then?” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I’m going to guess that means you all just have really shitty names.”

I don’t know what she saw on Gage’s face, but whatever it was, delighted her. “Ooh, that’s it, isn’t it? Don’t tell me. I want to guess!” She cocked her hip and patted her lips. “Aloisious?” she threw out and when he didn’t respond, Charlotte added another ridiculous name, and then another until, miraculously, Gage chuckled. “Francis? Wolfgang? Lancelot? Orville? Surely not Reddenbacher!”

“Julian,” he finally admitted with a shake of his head. From behind, I could see the slight shifting of back muscles that indicated he was trying hard to hold in a laugh.

“Well, Julian Gage, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Charlotte Jones.” She stuck her hand out to shake, and he eyed it like it was laced with explosives—or something worse.

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