Chapter 22
twenty-two
Barnes and I stand over Mason and Jacqueline Stryker’s townhouse blueprints, scanning for possible security holes.
He stabs his finger at one of the service elevators, not even bothering to grunt.
“Brad,” I reply. “It’s in his zone.”
“Aye, but he can only cover one floor at a time.”
“He’ll be on the first, I’ll be on the second.
You’re watching all the camera feeds, anyway.
Pierce has the front area of the house, where all the guests will be.
We have four men on the roof. Two on each fire escape.
Three in the basement. One for the kitchen, one for the garage.
Not to mention everything but the damn front door will be locked up tighter than Fort Knox. ”
I say it more to reassure myself than him, trying to shut down the instinct screaming that this whole party isn’t safe.
No, more than that; it feels like a fucking trap.
Every time I run through the plans and protocols, I see Ted Stryker’s smarmy smile. The bruises his son left on Ella. That too-still, too-silent apartment.
God, how do I know he didn’t hire those paparazzi assholes to attack Alice? Maybe he wanted the information so he could sabotage the wedding. Or find a way into tonight’s event.
I can’t shake the instinct that something wicked is coming. And, if I’m right, it makes sense that Ted would be the one pulling the strings.
I’ve had him under heavy surveillance all week, but nothing has changed. It’s starting to make me feel insane.
Barnes tilts his neck, cracking it as he steps away from the table and settles his eerie steel eyes on me. “You’ve dealt with the lass?”
Alice. Because as far as all my men are concerned, the time I’ve spent with her is purely professional.
It strikes me suddenly how fucked up that is. I shake my head. “Alice Moore doesn’t need to be dealt with. She’s smarter than any of our men, and she’s learned her lesson about breaking protocol.”
Behind me, Brad and Pierce enter the room, both laughing about a YouTube video on Brad’s phone. Barnes says nothing, but his metallic glare darkens.
I sigh. “She’s important to me. Our objective is to protect her, not treat her like a loose end.”
Brad drops his elbows to the blueprint and shoots me a shit-eating grin. “Did you gain access to her place yet, boss? I bet you did.”
My jaw locks while Pierce elbows Brad, shaking his head.
“What?” Brad snickers. “I’m just saying—”
“Nothing,” I interrupt sharply. “You are saying nothing because there is nothing to be said. Miss Moore is a lady. I went to her house last night for a social call. That is all. Anyone who would like to insinuate otherwise can take it up with me.”
Brad tries to bite his lip. “Social call,” he snorts quietly.
Pierce covers his face with his palm. “If he kills you, I don’t think I’ll miss you.”
I know I won’t. “Enough. Do either of you jackasses have your quadrants memorized, or should I just fire you right now?”
The guys grumble, each turning their attention to the whiteboard covered in notes at the back of the room. Barnes eyes them with distaste before turning the full force of his disapproval on me. “You should put someone else on the wedding planner.”
“No.” The word rips from my throat without polish. “She’s mine. This subject is closed.”
Barnes sees too much. Hears too much. Of all of us, he’s the most highly trained. The only person who has experience with interrogating the sort of people you question under a bone saw. His eyes flicker while he listens to me.
And I don’t like it.
I swallow a growl and murmur too quietly for the others to hear, “You leave her alone, or we’re going to have a problem.”
Again, he doesn’t speak. But his face does. This doesn’t feel right.
But neither does letting anyone else near Alice.
Still, I scrub a hand over my face before turning back to my notes. “I know,” I tell him. “I know.”