Chapter 6
Kane stood in the kitchen of Doug’s house, his shoulder pressed against the doorframe as family and friends crowded inside.
The air was thick with grief, heavy enough to choke on, but he stayed alert.
Old habit. His eyes swept the room; mostly what he witnessed was human sorrow, raw and honest, but the darker part of him couldn’t let go of the possibility that killers sometimes came back to watch their own chaos unfold.
From what he could tell, Beverly had been well-loved.
The line of mourners at the visitation had been endless.
Even when Monica’s father lost his mind in front of everyone, Kane hadn’t missed a single detail, not one potential threat.
Now, inside the house, he saw some of the same people as well as new faces.
But his focus kept repeatedly drifting back to her.
Monica stood by the far wall, a forgotten plate of food in her hands, her gaze unfocused.
She looked like she was staring at people without really seeing them.
The sight of it hit him harder than he cared to admit.
She was tough, no doubt about it, but beneath that fire was something fragile.
A woman stretched thin, carrying more than anyone here could see.
Hearing that her brother had been aware of Monica working for the bastard who may or may not have had something to do with their sister’s disappearance, and now death had pissed him off.
Kane clenched his jaw and looked away, trying to force his attention elsewhere.
He’d been doing this type of shit too long to let feelings, especially protective ones, get tangled up with his work.
There was something about her that chipped at the walls he’d spent decades building, and every time he looked at her, that damn protective instinct dug its claws in deeper.
He didn’t like it. Not one bit, because protection led to caring, and caring led to loss, and Kane had buried too many ghosts to add another.
Still, when Monica looked directly at him, every muscle in his body went taut, ready to act...ready to fight...for her. This, whatever this was, was a problem. A big one. One he needed to keep on a damn leash.
Her gaze shifted past him and narrowed, the smallest change but sharp enough that Kane followed it instinctively.
A tall man in a dark suit had stepped into the kitchen.
Kane hadn’t seen him at the visitation, and he definitely would have remembered if he had.
The guy wasn’t here to grieve as his eyes scanned the room until they landed on Monica.
Kane felt the shift inside himself like a blade being drawn.
The man started toward her, and Kane’s body moved before he allowed it—mirroring the stranger step for step. It was only when Monica flicked a quick glance at him and gave a subtle shake of her head that Kane forced himself to stop.
He halted near the counter beside the trays of food, positioning himself at an angle—close enough to hear every word and end anything that needed ending, but not so close to give himself away.
He folded his arms, posture loose, and casual to anyone who didn’t know what to look for. But inside, he was already in lock-and-load mode. If the man made one move for Monica, it would be his last.
“What the fuck?” Kane cursed under his breath as he went with the protection shit again.
It had been instant. He reminded himself that he was here because of the job.
..nothing more...nothing less, and definitely not because of the woman currently standing five feet away, holding herself together with sheer willpower.
“Monica?” the man asked, his voice smooth—too smooth.
Kane caught it easily; his hearing was superb, as was his bullshit meter.
The stranger’s expression told the real story.
His eyes lit with recognition a split second too fast when he spotted her.
The question of her identity in his voice was totally bogus. He knew that he was talking to Monica.
“Yes,” Monica replied evenly, her tone calm, but her eyes never leaving the man in front of her.
“I’m Neil Farrar.” The man extended a hand with a polished smile that Kane didn’t buy for a damn second. He’d seen that look before; men who smiled like that usually were hiding something ugly.
Monica glanced at Neil’s hand before giving it a quick, polite shake.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Neil said, his tone too smooth, too measured.
“Thank you,” Monica replied, releasing his hand as quickly as she could. “How did you know my sister, Mr. Farrar?”
“Please, call me Neil,” he said, still smiling.
“Neil,” she repeated, tilting her head slightly. “How did you know my sister?” Her tone didn’t waver, which made Kane smile. The woman was smart and had a good read on people like him. She didn’t trust this guy either.
“I didn’t,” Neil admitted after a pause. “I’m taking over operations for Mr. Griffen until he can come back. I heard about your sister from Mr. Griffen. He sends his condolences.”
“Come back?” Monica asked, feigning confusion. “His vacation going that well?”
Neil frowned. “Vacation?”
“Oh,” Monica said with perfect innocence. “He’s not on vacation?”
For a moment, Neil looked thrown before forcing a laugh. “No, he’s not on vacation. He’s finalizing the sale of R they rebranded.
“Well, I guess that means I’m out of a job for real,” Monica said softly, and Kane caught the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. Not because of the paycheck, but because the trail to her sister’s truth was slipping away again.
“Not necessarily,” Neil said smoothly. “Mr. Griffen has asked me to head up his new operation.”
“New operation?” Monica asked, glancing briefly at Kane before returning her attention to Neil. “And what might that be?”
“Curated Vintage Exchange,” Neil replied. “Import and export of rare relics, antiques for exclusive clientele only.”
The guy was slick. Too slick. And the way he was looking at Monica made Kane’s fists itch. He was either testing her or enjoying the view.
“Congratulations, I guess,” Monica said, folding her arms. “But I don’t see how that concerns me. You could’ve called, maybe even emailed me, and saved yourself the drive.”
“Mr. Griffen said you had spunk,” Neil said with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
Kane wanted to knock that grin right off his smug face.
“Spunk doesn’t pay the bills,” Monica fired back dryly.
“Mr. Griffen was very fond of your work ethic,” Neil continued. “He’d like you to be part of this new venture. After meeting you, I can see why.”
She hesitated, which was smart. Kane could tell she was testing the guy herself, and she was letting the silence stretch until the man began to fidget. It was a dance of control, and she was leading.
“I don’t know anything about antiques,” Monica said finally, her tone light. “I’m not sure what good I’d be.”
“Are you trying to talk yourself out of a job offer?” Neil teased with a sleezy laugh.
“No,” she said, with the faintest smile. “Just being honest. Didn’t know much about logistics either, but I learned quickly.”
“So, that’s a yes?” Neil leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Griffen would be disappointed if you turned it down. There’s even a pay raise.”
Again, that calculated silence. Kane could practically see her brain working behind those beautiful blue eyes. She was matching Neil’s moves step for step.
“Listen, Mr. Farrar,” Monica said, using his last name. “This is truly bad timing on your part. I am burying my sister tomorrow. There are questions about her death, which is being investigated for foul play.”
Kane frowned, sliding a quick glance at Monica, but she was staring at the man. She was wading close to dangerous territory here and needed to be careful. Looking back at the man, Kane saw the slight narrowing of the eyes before he quickly recovered.
“A family friend who is a retired police officer has advised not only me, but my brother to look into security for not only ourselves, but our homes, since this has been a high-profile case. And honestly, I agree. Until the person responsible is caught, I don’t feel safe.”
“Of course, of course. I understand and can’t say I blame you. There is much evil in this world,” Neil said, nodding his head in understanding. “And again, my apologies for showing up today of all days.”
He sounded contrite, but Kane wasn’t buying it. The guy’s voice had that slick, salesman’s edge, like he’d practiced his sympathy in a mirror.
“But I can assure you,” Neil continued, “we’re securing only the best protection money can buy. And I’m certain Mr. Griffen will add, as part of your signing bonus, your own personal bodyguard.”
Yeah, I bet he will, Kane thought dryly, fighting back a snort. What better way to keep tabs on Monica as well as the cops’ investigation into her sister’s murder than to plant one of his men at her side twenty-four-seven?
“Why would he do that?” Monica asked, her brow furrowing, head tilting just slightly. Kane had already picked up that she did that when she was really digging into something, and the wheels in her head were spinning faster than her mouth could keep up.
“Mr. Griffen has the utmost respect for you and all of his employees,” Neil assured smoothly. “If you work for him, he’ll make sure you’re well protected.”
Yeah, just like he took care of Joey’s dad, who was six feet under, Kane mused grimly.
“I appreciate that,” Monica said coolly, “but I already have someone, Mr. Farrar. I don’t expect my employer to cover my personal security.”
That snapped Kane’s focus back to her like a whip. She what?
“Oh?” Neil blinked, clearly caught off guard, and he wasn’t alone.
Kane even glanced around out of habit, expecting to see some phantom bodyguard lurking in the corner, but he knew better because he would have picked up on that immediately.
When his gaze slid back, Monica was staring straight at him.
And so was Neil.
Well, fuck.
Kane straightened instantly, masking the curse under his breath as he slid on his calm, controlled, and all-business undercover face.
“I’d like to introduce my new boss, Mr. Farrar,” Monica said, her voice as smooth as silk.
Kane stopped beside her, towering just enough to make his presence known, then extended a firm hand. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he lied easily, the words rolling off his tongue like second nature. “Noah Reid.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Reid.” Neil’s grip was careful, testing. His eyes flicked up, assessing. “Well, this is a surprise I didn’t expect.”
Yeah, I bet you didn’t, Kane thought, returning the stare unflinching. He sure as hell hadn’t.
“I’m sure Mr. Griffen won’t have any objections,” Neil said after a beat, forcing a smile, “but of course, we’ll need to do a full, detailed background check on you, Mr. Reid. Because of the nature of our business, of course.”
There it was—the desperate attempt to regain control. Kane almost smiled.
“Of course,” he said flatly.
“If you can send me a list of what you need from Mr. Reid,” Monica interjected smoothly before Kane could add anything else, “he’ll make sure you get it. But honestly, today isn’t the day for any of that.”
Neil gave a tight nod. “Of course. How about we meet next week, then? Monday, perhaps?”
“Monday’s fine,” Monica replied, glancing over her shoulder before meeting his gaze again. “Just email me the details.”
She gave him a polite, perfunctory smile, then turned on her heel and walked away, that sway in her step deliberate and calm as if she’d just won a round in a game neither he or this asshole realized they were playing.
Kane’s brow lifted as he watched her go, then turned back to Neil, who was also watching her walk away. Kane extended his hand again.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Farrar,” he said, his tone even, his grip firm when Neil reluctantly took his hand. “We’ll see you Monday.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and followed Monica’s trail, his frown deepening the closer he got to the hallway.
What the hell did she think she was doing?
This wasn’t a fucking game. He already had a set undercover facade that didn’t include him being a bodyguard. “Fuck!” he cursed under his breath.
She disappeared into the restroom, and he stopped just outside, leaning against the wall. His posture was casual, but every nerve in his body was coiled tight.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neil Farrar turn to walk out of the kitchen, phone to his ear, his face hard and unreadable as he disappeared into the crowd.
Kane muttered a low curse and pulled out his own phone, firing off a quick text to Charger.
Griffen nowhere to be seen. The new boss of the new business venture showed up. A Neil Farrar. Have Jinx run him. R Monica had just made things a hell of a lot more interesting.