Page 17 of Made for You
Tristan Donnelly waited patiently while I gathered my thoughts. This wasn’t a particularly unique scenario, since I bet Tristan’s default setting rested onwaiting patiently.He was the least likely to rush a job, the steadiest hand I’d ever met.
Handy when your job is defusing bombs—or was. Tristan had retired from the same unit many of us had come from. He’d gotten out around the same time I had and was solid as a rock. When he agreed to come work for us here, Wilder and I had toasted some of the special Scotch billionaire Julian Grenier had given us the day we’d formed our partnership. Tris was that good, and that was referencing his all-around skills as a former operator, his explosive ordnance disposal experience prior to joining the unit, and his general steadiness. Oh, and his world-class close-combat skills second to exactly one person who still worked at the unit back in North Carolina.
Wilder was unflappable until it came to Sarah and his little one. The same could be said for me with Kiley, I supposed. But Tristan? I didn’t think I’d ever seen him sweat.
And thank goodness, because we had Kenny and Beast to deal with, both of whom had enough opposing energies so the calmer the baseline around the office, the better.
“We’ve got an interview coming in a bit, and we’ve got to retool staffing again. Maybe hire more people or figure out how to work some freelancers when we get bigger jobs. Especially because Wilder’s not going to stop having a human child who needs care and attention, and Amani and Ben are out long-term. This won’t be the only show they can’t stand in for.”
The film fest had gone off without a hitch. Jack McKean’s new movie had set the world ablaze and had won the grand prize for the festival, not to mention he’d seemed very pleased with Saint Security’s work, as had the event director and everyone we’d interacted with save the possible exception of Crade. That poor excuse for a human had been less than impressed when more than once, whoever of us was guarding him had shut down his harassment of attendees. I wouldn’t apologize for it. Personal security was supposed to be hands-off. If someone engaged in bad behavior, we didn’t step in until it became a danger to the principal.
Sorry, but not on my watch. Or any of my people’s. We simply weren’t going to tolerate that, and we’d be unlikely to sign a contract to guard him again because of it.
“True enough. I hate to see you scrambling like this again. Do we have the budget to staff up?”
Tristan’s question was a good one, though not one he’d normally concern himself with. And the fact that I couldn’t directly answer it made me more than a little uncomfortable.
“Not sure. Sarah was managing the budget, and Wilder’s had an eye on it. You know numbers aren’t my strong suit.” I didn’t love admitting that, but I’d also found that pretending I could see the full scope of the business when I looked at whatever accounting software we’d purchased starting out only made me feel worse.
Tristan nodded, taking that in stride. “Well, if you make this hire, it should help with some of the admin load.”
A sigh escaped me. “Yeah. Wouldn’t mind that.”
He nodded, his dark hair longer than I’d ever seen it on top. We got away with less military-looking cuts because looking like a soldier didn’t exactly help efforts at being covert on a mission if we were using a cover identity, but it still tripped me up to see us all letting the hair and beards grow unchecked.
Well, not all of us. I’d had a beard for a few months last winter, and after Kiley begged me to shave it because it looked like “a dead animal had stitched itself to my face,” I’d acquiesced.
“We’ve got a down weekend and then the next self-defense class week after next, right?” he asked, likely more for my sake than his.
“Yeah. Should be good. I think we’ve got a few spots left. We’re about eighty-percent last I checked the online roster.” One more thing I shouldn’t be doing but had taken on since Sarah had been on maternity leave.
Tristan’s face didn’t change, but he nodded. “Good.”
I felt like such a whiney jerk lately, and this wasn’t how a boss should be talking with someone, even if we were more friends and coworkers than boss-employee. “How are you? Have you heard from your girl?”
That stoic face didn’t let my comment flap him, of course, but he didn’t ignore it. “Every few days, as usual.”
“How long have you been talking like this?” I clicked out of my email and shuffled a few papers around on my desk.
“Fourteen years, on and off.”
Had it been that long? I could vaguely remember hearing about her every now and then. “Really? I guess time flies.”
He nodded.
“But you’ve still never met in person?”
“Nope.”
That had always perplexed me. This girl and her family had adopted Tristan through some program where families sent soldiers messages and care packages while deployed during the height of the war in Afghanistan, and they’d kept up contact for years. She’d been pretty young when it’d all started. It never seemed romantic, but she’d been a constant for him. Knowing how not much else had been, I felt more than a little gratitude to this person who’d stood by him even if she didn’t realize she had.
“Jaws, we got a Veronica Hastings here for an interview?” Kenny’s head appeared in my doorway. He’d used my nickname—we all had them—but I hadn’t expected to hearVeronica Hastingsout of his mouth.
Was her first name really Veronica? Weirdly, that made my chest warm.
“Ah, good. You can bring her back, if you would. I meant to be out there, but looks like she’s a few minutes early.” A glance at my watch proved it—a full ten minutes early. She’d fit in well on that front, at least.
“Back in a sec,” he said, then patted the doorframe.
