Page 3 of Perfect Order
“There’s so much I want to say to you.”
“You have about seven minutes to…”
“We love you, Kane.” My throat closes up as she sums it up in four simple words that mean everything. I can’t manage any words, but I don’t need to. “Wherever you are, no matter what you do, your family always loves you. You know that deep down, son, right?”
I clear my throat before I manage, “Yeah, Ma.”
“Good. Now, go show them the man you were born to be. And if they don’t recognize you for the warrior you are, well, they can just go straight to hell.”
“I’m pretty certain they’ve already been there,” I start, but I’m talking to thin air. My mother’s hung up on me, likely unwilling to show me her emotions. I slip my phone back inside my suit jacket and pull out my badge so I can easily slip through Security. But instead of pressing my usual floor when I hit the elevator, I lean over and press the button for the executive floor.
As the elevator rises, I mentally go through the responses I’ll provide when I’m asked if I’m ready because I know I am. I was made to serve and protect. I was made for this.
And I’m ready to get back to doing what I was born to do.
Hudson Investigations was built on the principles of two men—Caleb Lockwood and Keene Marshall. Beyond the lucrative work they’re awarded from our government, they have a well-earned reputation of integrity for helping reunite families in their Missing Persons and Protective Services division.
I’ve been working with this illustrious team since I first came on board a few months ago. And much like the men who started the firm, I quickly learned there are few things in life more rewarding than being able to provide answers to people who don’t have any.
It makes me curious if Caleb has a new assignment, which causes conflicting emotions inside of me. While I’m anxious to prove I’m capable enough to be back in the field, I abhor the idea there’s a person out there who is lost, perhaps permanently. Even though our job is to provide closure, there are days when I’m more than ready to toss back a few drinks with my colleagues to numb the pain over what we’ve discovered once we’ve secured our target.
I remain ramrod straight in my chair in the lobby, even through the call Tony, Caleb and Keene’s administrative assistant, receives. “Yes? I’ll let him know you’re ready for him.” After he hangs up, he stands. “Kane, if you’ll follow me.”
Pushing to my feet, I stride forward, a frown of concern touching my lips. “Do you have any intel on the target you can share?”
Tony shakes his head. “The key players are waiting for you inside. You’ll get all the information you need.”
“Thanks for nothing,” I mutter as we reach the door.
“I get that a lot.” He reaches past me and knocks.
“Enter,” I hear Caleb call out.
I reach for the handle and push the door open. After taking two steps into the room, I come up short because sitting in front of Caleb’s desk is none other than the world-famous rock star Beckett Miller. And despite the usually gregarious demeanor he has on his face when I’ve seen him in the press, the man appears completely shut down. In fact, he’s downright rude when he ignores my presence and returns his attention to Caleb. “This is truly ridiculous, Caleb.”
“It isn’t, Beckett. We’re having this conversation because of the fact one of your fans managed to get her ass past your doorman. What do you want next? To find one sprawled in your place? I mean, our systems are good, but they’re not impenetrable.”
“Well, isn’t that fucking reassuring,” the tattooed rock god drawls. “And what is Captain America over here supposed to do? Make sure my dick is covered so no one gets a picture of it as I’m jerking off in bed?”
A very clear understanding of what my assignment will be forms. Suddenly, I’m almost wishing Caleb had waited a few more weeks before he decided I was ready, but I’m not about to screw up this chance. While Beckett continues to spew out all the reasons why he doesn’t need protection as he cavalierly gallivants around the city, I wander over to the windows.
“You’re being an obtuse ass, Beckett,” Caleb shouts.
“And you, Carys, and everyone else knows I need to be free to live my life,” he counters. He slumps forward in his chair, his back angled slightly away from where I’m standing.
I know when I’ve been dismissed, but it’s high time someone reminded Mr. Miller of the reason he’s sitting in my boss’s office. I guess the person to do that is going to be me.
Like a snake striking, I lunge for him. Within seconds, I have his head encased in my arms. All it would take is a little pressure one way or the other to either ruin his singing career or simply end the conversation in a very permanent way. I lean down and hiss, “Now, try to get away, rock star.”
Beckett makes a high-pitched squeal that reminds me of the pigs on my parents’ farm. He kicks his long legs out frantically. His arms flail, and his panicked “Caleb” comes out off-key. Probably the first time that’s ever occurred, I think with a touch of amusement.
Caleb quirks a brow at Beckett before calmly asking, “Kane? If you don’t mind letting Beckett go. I think he’s paid for his crack.”
I quickly remove my arms and step back as Beckett leaps to his feet, a muscular man who’s both humiliated and terrified. “My goal wasn’t retribution, Caleb. It was to demonstrate to Mr. Miller how ridiculously vulnerable he is. I presume he had some spatial awareness as to where I was in the room.”
Beckett’s chest heaves up and down. He twists his head from side to side before he frowns. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Of course not. I merely incapacitated you. I wasn’t trying to harm you in any way.”
