Page 31 of Quiet Protector
Fetu stops heading toward the underground parking garage when I call his name. “Will you please call me Melody? If you’re willing to take a bullet for me, I’d say you’ve earned the honor to call me anything you like.”
Dimples pop in his cheeks when they incline. “I can, thank you.” My smile matches his when he adds, “You can also call me Tiny. It was what my mama called me.”
My heart pains for him. If I had missed the ‘was’ part of his comment, I certainly couldn’t ignore the grief in his eyes. He’s lost his mother too. I guarantee it.
Embarrassed I caught his quick reflection of sorrow, he says, “I’ll meet you out front.”
Smiling to assure him he has no reason to be embarrassed, I nod. “I won’t be a minute.”
* * *
Cool evening winds whip under my skirt when I exit the warmth of Julian’s building a few seconds later. I tug my coat in close to my chest as I make a beeline for a car I’m stunned doesn’t have a heap of parking infringement notices stuffed onto the windshield. Although I’ve never personally delivered the food as I am now, I know I’m heading for the right vehicle. It’s the only one that hasn’t budged like my ass the past couple of days. No matter what time of the day or night I check Julian’s security feed, I see the same vehicle.
“Ma’am…” The driver greets apprehensively when I knock on his fogged window. He’s younger than I thought he’d be. His dark hair is short at the sides but hangs loosely on top of his head. His eyes are blue, and his lips are plump despite being twisted with confusion. If I were single, his handsome features would certainly have my libido taking notice.
Once the stranger has his window wound down, I hand him the cookies I snagged from the cooling rack. “I’m heading back to my loft for an hour or two, so dinner will be a little late this evening. Figured these would tie you over until then.”
“Oh…” He looks both confused and pleased. “Thank you. They smell great.”
“Celeste is the best.” I wave like an idiot before spinning around to face Julian’s car rolling up the ramp of the underground parking garage. My eyes roll when I spot a man halfway down the ramp, snapping my picture. He can’t get into the garage since it’s guarded by security officers, but he’s right at the gate, invading Julian’s privacy as much as he can.
“Damn paparazzi,” I mutter under my breath as I slip into the passenger seat next to Fetu.
Once my seat belt is latched into place, I drift my eyes to the side mirror. My brows furrow when the dark sedan parked at the front of Julian’s apartment doesn’t merge into traffic behind us. It stays in the loading bay, doubling not just my heart rate but my suspicions as well.
“You took brunch out to Brandon’s PI yesterday, didn’t you?”
Fetu’s eyes stray from the road to me before he lifts his chin.
“What did he look like? Was he handsome? Big, brooding, somewhat the quiet type?”
He twists his lips as his cheeks whiten. “Not that I pay much attention to men, but if I did, I wouldn’t categorize him as the handsome, moody type.” He shrugs. “Perhaps it’s just me. Maybe mid-fifties blond men don’t tickle my fancy.”
The humorous glint in Fetu’s eyes dampens when I ask, “He’s blond?”
When he lifts his chin for the second time, my stomach gurgles. If I didn’t just hand freshly baked cookies to Brandon’s private investigator, who did I hand them to?
14
Brandon
“I’m an agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, how can that not outrank an apartment owner’s ‘request for privacy?’” I air quote the last half of my sentence, pissed as fuck.
The twists in Megan’s case won’t stop coming. Phillipa is speaking to me as more of a work colleague than a friend, and for some reason, Melody was photographed by my private investigator liaising with a man in a car with stolen plates. She’s safe, and at her loft, but I’m juggling so many balls right now, I’m bound to drop one.
If that occurs because the head security officer at Isabelle’s building won’t let me up to see her, he’ll be hit with the majority of my anger since he’s responsible for it.
After exhaling a long, anger-relieving breath, I give it a final shot to have him seeing sense through the madness. “I’m not here to visit Mr. Holt. I’m here to see one of his tenants, and it’s for a matter of utmost importance.”
He keeps his tone calm and neutral when replying with the same crappy excuse he’s been giving me the past ten minutes. “I’m sorry, Mr. James, Mr. Holt’s directive includes Ms. Brahn, so I can’t let you up, no matter how urgent the matter.”
Steam billows from my ears as my anger boils over, but before I can vent a smidge of my annoyance, a familiar voice sounds from over my shoulder. “Brandon!”
When I spot Isabelle darting my way, smiling, I twist back around to face the security officer responsible for the heat burning my cheeks. “Would you look at that? Ms. Brahn appears eager to see me. Perhaps you should pass that onto Mr. Holt the next time you see him. Or better yet, why don’t you call him now, and I’ll let him know if he had put as much effort into safeguarding his family as he does in controlling Ms. Brahn, his sister-in-law wouldn’t have almost bled-out giving birth to his nephew.” The last half of my comment is more a reflection of my failure to safeguard my family than Isaac’s, but with my mood the lowest it’s been in years, I’ve got to release some of it before I crack.
“I’ll be sure to pass on your message, Mr. James. Have a pleasant afternoon.” The security officer peers at Isabelle over my shoulder for the quickest second before he returns to the office his sidekicks absconded to when they begged their supervisor to back up their claim that Isabelle isn’t allowed any visitors.
After a second exhale, I bridge the gap between Isabelle and me. As my shoes click against the gleaming marble tiles in the lobby of her building, I try to shake off my funk. The short length of my strides does me no good. You can hear the annoyance in my tone, much less feel it vibrating out of me when I snarl at Isabelle. “Are you aware no one can gain access to your floor without it first being approved by Isaac?”
