Page 58 of Vicious Souls

When he comes to Kingsley, his eyes rest on her far too long before he takes her hand and plants a kiss against her knuckles. She visibly shivers and I roll my eyes. I have been in his company enough times to know he has this effect on the majority of women – and men – that he comes into contact with. He and Stella make a stunning couple – she with her dark locks and exotic looks, he with his dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He has a firmly set jaw that dares anyone to mess with him, but I have seen the easy going side of him a few too many times and understand his defiant look is all an act to keep the piranhas at sea.

“It’s been too long.” He directs his words at me as he takes a seat behind his desk. It is finished in warm oak with accents of black; a desk that screams money and power. Claymore has both in spades.

He’d come up in ranks in the military, before he’d taken a leave of absence after the death of his wife and found himself at the bottom of a whisky bottle. Eventually he’d come out of his haze, retired, and established his own security firm, which had grown so quickly in size, he had started to recruit army veterans even before they retired. His firm now provided services for some of the most prominent politicians and elite stars in the world.

“That’s not always a bad thing,” I laugh. “It means we’ve kept out of trouble for a while.”

“Talk to me.”

Claymore leans forward in his chair, keen interest blazing in his eyes, and folds his hands against a leather mat I imagine usually houses his laptop. He is notorious for carrying it everywhere with him.

“Kingsley needs a strong-arm security detail. Around the clock. She can’t be left alone at any time.”

We both flick our eyes toward Kingsley, who sits quietly assessing something indefinable on the carpet. Claymore’s gaze lingers on her for a few seconds before he turns back to me.

“Who is she and what has she done?”

He understands that in my world, no one is in danger unless they cross a line they are not supposed to. In this instance, he is wrong. I wonder what of his perspective would change if I give him the whole story.

“Maddog Murray’s daughter. He recently passed and she’s the only heir. It’s assumed that she’ll take over where he left off.”

“And?” he probes, knowing there is more to come. Above all else, he values transparency; he never takes a job without knowing everything there is to know about the case.

“Her father’s right hand man has tried to make a move on what’s hers. More than once. Tried to kill her. Kidnapped her. He will try again. As I’m sure will others.”

“Who has he got in his camp?” Claymore asks, his interest perking. He never could resist a good gunfight.

“A motorcycle gang; that’s all we know of so far. But the last attack was brazenly coordinated. It seemed more the style of mercenaries.”

Claymore nods his head, picks up a pen and twirls it quietly between his fingers. He looks again at Kingsley, who refuses to remove her eyes from the carpet, somewhat out of her element.

“I’m not saying no,” Claymore says. “But I’m interested to know what your interest in protecting her is. I know there was history between your fathers.”

And this is what brings Kingsley’s head up, looking at me with sad, mournful eyes. She does not know the extent of our fathers’ complex friendship. She probably doesn’t even trust that I would do everything in my power to protect her after the falling out they had without having an ulterior motive. She hasn’t even had the chance to mourn her father properly; Tate moved in the minute Maddog took his last breath, going so far as to wage psychological warfare on her by locking her up in her own home. She probably would never know who to trust unless she was guided.

It’s my father who speaks up, breaking the intolerable silence with what he hadn’t yet shared even with me.

“Maddog and I settled our differences before he passed,” my father says, speaking directly to Claymore. This is news to me. He doesn’t look my way, and I know he isn’t lying – if there is one code my father lives by religiously, it is truth above everything else. Even Kingsley now has her attention firmly fixed on my father as she hangs on every word he utters. And as he continues to speak, it is as though the spark of a memory flits through her mind as she recalls something she had considered long buried.

“How so?”

“Maddog called me when he was in the hospital and I went to see him,” my father admits, his eyes glazing over like he too is shrouded in a beautiful memory. The two men had been best friends for years before a woman came between them. I don’t know which woman, whose arm she had been on, or any of the details, but I do know that it was a woman who had been their undoing. “He was at times lucid, at others incoherent, but he did ask of me one thing. For old time’s sake. I couldn’t say no.”

My father’s eyes wander toward Kingsley, looking at her with a softness I’d never known him capable of.

“For the longest time, I both hated and loved the man. Hated him for what happened. But loved him in the same way that a person cannot let go of his affection for a blood brother. Maddog was my brother. Essentially, he started out as my brother and he left this life as my brother.”

“What did he say?” Kingsley whispers, making me feel as though the rest of her life depends on what my father has to reveal.

“He asked me to look out for his son. To his dying breath, he wouldn’t tell me that you were a girl, still trying to protect you in his own way, but he did tell me to look after you.”

“Is that why you were watching me that night at the club?” Kingsley asks, turning to me. So many secrets were coming out tonight. I had come here for something entirely different to what I was getting. I turn to my father, looking to him for the answers that Kingsley sought. As far as I know, my father had me watching ‘Murray’s son’ in order to win over the docks. I sent him a questioning look. I, too, want to know the answer to that question. My father gives me an easy smile.

“The important thing is that I fulfil Maddog’s dying wish. That’s what’s brought us here today.”

Claymore nods his head in understanding. A man of his position understands the delicate history between two old friends and needs no more justification than what he has received in my father’s words. “What did you have in mind?”

“Around the clock security. Lots of it,” I tell him. “A team of advisors – financial and strategic. The best you have.” I pause and look at Kingsley. I won’t show it, but my heart is breaking knowing I won’t be in the picture to protect her. This task would now fall to someone else. “A team of lawyers on retainer. And if Stella would be so kind as to suggest a stylist.”

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