Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Those eyes. I couldn’t get them out of my mind after Mr. Smith left our office.
They were steel gray and hard. There was a hint of danger in them, but not enough to scare my body away.
I never reacted to a man like that before.
He made goose pimples rise over my skin and the hair on my arms and back of my neck stand.
As soon as he walked out, I felt like I could breathe again, like the burden in the room lifted.
“It seems as though you’re going to be working for Mr. Smith for the foreseeable future,” Mr. Chatman said as he strolled out of his office. He grinned widely like he swallowed the fattest canary he could find. Which meant he just got a fat check.
“It seems so.” I took a seat on the same couch Mr. Smith had sat in earlier.
“He wants you to start immediately.”
My team stood in various places around me and Mr. Chatman, listening.
“I’m not going without my team.” I folded my arms and gave him my ‘I-mean-what-I-say’ look. The one where my full lips turned into a thin line and my right eyebrow raised.
Mr. Chatman ran his hand across his head. “Come on, Tish,” he pleaded, using my nickname as if I would budge. “You know your team is my go-to, my most requested. I can’t let all of you go.”
I needed my guys with me. I was going into the unknown. I didn’t know jack squat about Steven Smith, but the way Mr. Chatman acted as if he won a car, he had money. A lot of it. People with money and me didn’t mix. I wanted my guys.
“Well, call him back and tell him not without my guys.”
Mr. Chatman’s face became ashen, and his eyes widened. “Do you even know who that was in here today?”
I didn’t, but the way Mr. Chatman’s military fa?ade slipped, Mr. Smith was someone I should’ve known, apparently. I didn’t give a fuck who he was; if he wanted me, then he wanted my crew. Mr. Chatman blew out a breath.
“I’ll call him. See what I can do.”
I nodded, then relaxed onto the couch as Mrs. Price, our receptionist, looked on, pretending as if she didn’t hear anything said.
“Are you crazy?” Dennis Blackmon, our resident Chicagoan, whisper-yelled, marching toward me. Dennis’s gigantic frame hovered over me, waving his arms. “Do you know who you are making demands of?”
“And I suppose you do?”
I tried not to feel insulted, but I had only lived in Chicago for a few years. No, I didn’t know every facet of the place. I kept to myself and did my job. These fellas were the only people I knew aside from their girlfriends and Rivera’s kid.
“Mr. Smith,” he said incredulously, “is one of the richest men in the world.” I didn’t reply, just listened, but I had to admit, I was intrigued. What in the world would he want with someone like me if he was as rich as Dennis claimed? “He’s also one of the most ruthless.”
Now that made me sit up. Dennis had my attention, if he didn’t before.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just hearsay, but it’s rumored he made his money on the streets, and if you cross him, you’re not heard from again.”
I thought about it for a second. He sounded like a gangster. What was I about to walk into?
“Is he with the mob or something?”
Dennis shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure he has ties. The authorities can’t get anything on him. He has legitimate businesses.”
I took everything in. This was starting to not sound like a good idea to me.
“I’m going to tell Mr. Chatman I’m not going to take the job.” I rose from my seat and headed toward Mr. Chatman’s office.
I opened his door without knocking and poked my head in. He waved me in, still holding the phone to his ear.
“Yes, sir,” he spoke. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, too.”
He ended the call.
“You’re in luck.” He smiled. “Mr. Smith has agreed to your terms, and he’s willing to pay whatever you want, plus more.”
Mr. Chatman’s eyes glimmered with what I could only describe as excitement and greed. I was his new cash cow.
I plopped into the chair sitting in front of his desk. I never really noticed Mr. Chatman’s office before, having only been in here a few times, including when he hired me. It was sparse with not a lot of personable items. It was obvious he hadn’t let Mrs. Price add her touch to things in here.
“Mr. Chatman, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I exhaled. “I don’t think I’m going to take this job.”
The smile on Chatman’s face slipped. He sat back in his black leather executive chair and folded his arms.
“Tisha, you seem to think you have a choice in the matter.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
“I assure you, you do not.” Usually, Mr. Chatman was laid back, the opposite of what you would think a career military person would be, but for the first time, he was serious and…
cold. I was thrown off and couldn’t hold on to my argument.
“You see, Tisha, what happens is, you get contracted out. Mr. Smith has picked up your contract along with your team. You do the job until it’s done.
When it’s done, you move on to the next.
Mr. Smith wants you and has accepted your conditions, so you go, or you no longer work here. You or your team.”
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“So, you’re going to fire us if I don’t take this job?
” I could hear the shrill in my voice, threatening to breach the confines of the office, not a beneficial situation if the fellas knew they could potentially lose their jobs because of me.
“The guys have nothing to do with this.”
“It’s up to you.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk.
But it wasn’t up to me. Chatman placed me in a difficult position, but I couldn’t think about myself. “Okay,” I agreed, rising from my seat, “but after this job, I quit.”
My shoulders back and chin high, I strolled toward the door feeling at peace with my decision.
“Tisha.” I paused but didn’t turn around. “You start tomorrow. Go straight to the Transient Building, eight a.m. sharp.”
I rolled my eyes before I opened the door and walked out.
The incessant ringing of my cell phone was the only thing that was able to get me out of my bed this morning after the night I had.
As usual, I only saw Tristan when I closed my eyes at night and couldn’t get the realization that someone I cared for very deeply almost took my life.
It was because of the anguish of knowing that I’d retired from the Navy earlier than I’d planned.
I was tired of these sleepless nights, although they had lessened a bit since I’d retired and moved.
I couldn’t afford to get stupid drunk to sleep, and I didn’t put drugs of any kind in my body.
I rolled over, reaching for the blessed thing still ringing like it was crazy, and checked the screen. I didn’t recognize the number, but if they were calling this early in the morning, it must’ve been important.
“Hello.” My voice cracked from the sleepiness.
“Miss McLean.” A smooth voice, full of confidence, tickled my ear. I sat up slightly on my elbow, listening intently, trying to catch the voice. “This is Mr. Smith.”
I rose fully from my bed. I threw the covers from my body and stood, my eyes narrowing on the time on my alarm clock. Six in the morning. Who the fuck calls someone they don’t know at six in the morning?
“What can I do for you, Mr. Smith?”
His soft deep chuckle reached somewhere deep in my soul and latched on. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Please stop with the formalities. You can call me Steven.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, but there was no way I would be so familiar with him. “So, why are you calling so early?” I questioned, trying to get the conversation back on track.
“Meet me at my home this morning. We have things to discuss. I’ll text you my address,” he ordered, then hung up.
I stared at the phone, shocked he didn’t give me the chance to reply. Mr. Smith was a man who was used to getting his way, but if he thought I was going to bend over and take it, he had another thing coming. A flash of me bent over a desk with Mr. Smith standing behind me overtook my mind.
“Nope, nope, nope,” I whispered, shaking my head. “That is not going to happen.”
A few seconds later, a text came through from the same unknown number with an address. I didn’t recognize the street, but I hadn’t driven all around the different areas in Chicago. I placed my phone on the bedside table, then made my way to the bathroom.
Thirty minutes later I was dressed and headed out the door with enough time to stop for a coffee and a pastry or two before heading to my new boss’s place. I punched the address into my car navigation system and waited until it charted the course before backing out of the parking space.
“Thirty miles out of the city,” I mumbled as I followed each direction the automated voice gave me.
“In one and a half miles, your destination is on the right,” the voice announced.
A white marble fence stretched out to my right. “In six hundred feet, turn right. You have reached your destination.”
I smashed on the brakes as I reached the wrought-iron gate with two gold S’s looped into one another in the center. The fence stretched as far as I could see. There were a few houses on the street, but I couldn’t see his house from where I was.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” How I missed the guardhouse attached to the gate, I didn’t have a clue. The man in front of me wore a suit, but I could tell he was armed.
Yes, I am walking straight into a gangster’s house.
I sighed. “Yes, I’m here to see Mr. Smith. I’m Tisha McLean.”
Recognition lit his features. I guess they’d been told to expect me.
“Yes, ma’am. Wait right there.” He walked back to the guardhouse and picked up a phone hanging on the wall, then came back with a keycard and handed it to me.
“This will get you into the house. You and two other people have one, so don’t lose it. ”
I flipped the card from front to back. It was the size of a regular room key, except it was stainless steel with the same symbol from the wrought-iron gates engraved on the back.
Some fancy shit.
I tucked the card into my wallet and stuffed it in my purse. When I did, the guard hurried back to the guardhouse. The gates slowly opened inward, and he waved me through. I cautiously moved forward, only speeding up slightly to prevent the gate from closing on the back end of my car.
I followed the long white brick driveway.
I still couldn’t see the house, but with all of the opulence I’d seen so far, I was sure I wouldn’t be disappointed with what awaited me.
The lawn was neatly manicured. Flowers lined the driveway on both sides.
Rolling hills were in the distance, and trees dotted the open space.
After a mile, an enormous house came into view.
Just like the white marble fencing, the house gleamed in the rising sun. I shielded my eyes from the brightness.
I’d pulled the car to a stop before I pushed open the door and stepped out.
My heels dug into white brick. I smoothed down my pants and straightened my jacket and the red silk cami I wore underneath to look sharp for the boss.
I closed the door and then, with a deep breath, moved toward the enormous house.