Page 46 of Perfect Order
His wicked smile amplifies, and he turns up the Backstreet Boys before he saunters away. I wince as I let the atrocious music wash over me. Then I jog over to my gym bag and pull out a second remote before I switch back to the hard rock channel and jump on the treadmill.
After all, it’s my job to be prepared for anything. At least when it comes to the person I’m protecting.
Kane
Erzulie broke down on stage last night during her show when she was singing a rendition of Stevie Nicks’ “Landslide.” According to a member of her crew who gave a quote, it was “uncomfortable. She’s been getting progressively worse.” Apparently, the indie goddess is beating back some serious demons.
— StellaNova
“I quit,” I tell Colby Hunt after getting him on the phone a week later after Beckett Miller storms into the law offices of LLF LLC and ordered us to lock it down. This after jumping out of the secure car he was riding in that was slowing so we could escort him safely inside. Instead, the schmuck leapt out and chased a random woman down a city block before detaining her until she took off running in heels so high, I thought she might break an ankle.
Colby—one of Caleb and Keene’s partners who worked protective details, almost dying in one situation—doesn’t laugh. He immediately asks, “What happened?”
After recounting Beckett’s reckless stupidity, and my enjoyment in reaming him out as I dragged him inside the building we’re now standing in, Colby sighs. “Impetuous bastard.”
“There’s about eight different ways he could have been harmed, Colby! In the time he was out of my sight, he could have been shot, stabbed, at the very least kidnapped,” I shout.
A weak mew causes my head to snap up. In front of me is Angela Fahey, legal assistant to Carys and Ward Burke—the sister-and-brother team who own LLF. Carys started LLF when she left Wildcard Records as their general counsel years ago, bringing with her Angie and her then senior paralegal and now husband—David Lennan. “Excuse me, ma’am,” I apologize.
“No, it’s okay. I…” She turns and flees back inside, causing me to curse in Colby’s ear.
On days like this, when controlling Beckett is like corralling a rambunctious child, there’s a small part of me that almost longs for the rules and regulation of the military. Then I sneer when I recall I wasn’t given much of a choice when I was presented with the choice of hiding my ass inside the Pentagon for the rest of my career or accepting the early retirement with full benefits.
“Your service to this country has been exemplary, Captain McCullough. However, fieldwork is no longer an option. We would be enormously pleased to have your skills at headquarters…”
I interrupt the committee to say, “There is nothing physically or mentally wrong with me. I passed all of your tests.”
“The mission failed under your command, Captain,” one senator states.
I stare at her. “The mission failed because there was a mole. We eliminated the mole.” My stomach twists because I held that mole while he died in my arms.
“Yes you did. He was your best friend, wasn’t he?” she counters.
“And I still did the job. Because that’s what I trained for. If he was standing right here, and our situation was reversed, I’d expect the same of him.” At the confusion on their faces, I clarify through gritted teeth, “I’m a soldier. I love my country. I was trained to support the mission of protecting the United States against all enemies—foreign and domestic.”
“Which we feel you can still do,” that same senator reiterates.
I listened to them give me my options before turning the desk job down and walking out of the subcommittee chambers.
It was about a month later before my phone rang and Caleb’s cool voice asked, “Are you done being bitter yet?”
“Hardly,” I replied caustically.
“Good. Report for work at 0800 at this address.” And he rattled off the address of Hudson Investigations, not far from where I’m presently standing on the phone. It was the best decision I’d ever made in the last three years until twenty minutes ago. “This is after the party where someone broke through his security the other night. Beckett is on a rampage like I’ve never seen.”
Colby begins chuckling. “I’ve decided we’re having the management company reassign all of the people in his building, and we’re placing our own people there.”
I close my eyes. Beckett’s place was ransacked, a party so loud, so obnoxious, the cops were called. He’s getting slapped with a disturbing the peace charge his lawyer, Carys, has to defend, and, “You’re telling me it was another guard who let people in?”
“Through the fire escape. He was paid a hefty sum for his assistance.” When he tells me who they traced the money to, my jaw falls. I would have laid money on it being a rabid fan or Snowy-T out for retribution. “If we tell him who it was, he’s going to declare war.”
“As his lead agent, you get to make that decision.”
“Thanks.” For nothing is left unsaid.
Colby continues. “As it is, the guard faces breaking and entering charges since he technically had no cause to enter Beckett’s residence, though I have no doubt his lawyer will try to say there was an emergency.”
I sigh, knowing Colby’s right. My eyes fly open. I stare down at the lush carpet, feeling something akin to relief.That’s at least something positive I can share to bring Beckett’s mood under control, I think.
