Page 90 of Pretty Little Threats

“It’s me or him. Decide now.”

“Fuck.” The guard blows out a breath. “Fine, but if there’s even a hint of danger...” He trails off because I’m not some debutante he can carry off. “Fuck,” he mutters again.

“Good, pup.” I storm away from the kid, not at all surprised when he easily falls in behind me. He’s young, a little too fresh, but I sent Remy off at the last minute. The kid gets caught at security when the scanner alerts them to his gun.

I don’t wait for him.

“Sir!”

Grinding my jaw, I ignore the fool and head over to the executive elevator. Irene, the woman Rose is so fond of, gives me a cool once-over.

“You look mad.”

“I am.”

Her gaze flits around before she eyes the elevator. “I could get fired if I let you up.”

Reaching into the inside pocket of my suit, I grab a card and step closer, blocking the camera from seeing what I hand her. “You’re hired.”

Irene quickly hides it away and steps back. She frantically glances around to see who’s watching, but everyone is too busy paying attention to security and Remy’s guy. The kid brought so many weapons. Amateur mistake.

“Where’s Rose?” she whispers. Her eyes jump to the cameras and she blanches. Why is she so afraid of being watched?

“Safe,” I assure her.

Irene widens her eyes. “Rose used to draw pictures for me, and ever since, I’ve loved her. Don’t make me regret this.”

It’s not only the elevator ride she’s referring to. Irene is trusting me to take care of Rose. I have no doubt Irene knows what a piece of shit Joseph is.

“I won’t.”

Irene pushes the button to open the elevator doors. “Have a good day, Mr. Richardson.”

I pause beside her. “Call me Dare.”

She nods and looks away. “All right, Dare. I’ll be calling you for a job.”

“You’re already hired,” I remind her. With that, I stride into the elevator and take a deep breath, preparing to meet Joseph head-on.

He’s in the middle of a meeting when I barge in. The man across from him recoils when he sees me. I vaguely recognize him as one of the Joseph Miller groupies, but no name comes to mind.

“What are you doing?” Joseph growls.

“Get out,” I tell the man, walking toward him.

The guy snatches his briefcase and scurries around me, tucking tail and running. I chuckle as he escapes, then glance at Joseph, pointing my thumb over my shoulder and shaking my head.

“This guy,” I tell him, like we’re old pals.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Joseph turns redder by the second.

I lift a shoulder. “You said you wanted a meeting.”

“This is unprof?—”

“Shut up, old man.” I shake my head. “You really want to play with me like this?”

He bristles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

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