Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
On the plane to Asheville, while DJ slouched in a seat with earphones and sunglasses on, Roy reviewed G’s reports and studied DJ’s home and grounds.
The house had a lot of windows, but all with glass break sensors.
Feed from the profusion of cameras was accessible at the driveway gatehouse and in a control room inside the residence.
It was wi-fi based, but the firewalls were good and the monitoring company was on an even higher alert than usual.
Once he finished his security review, he allowed himself to assess the place on its own merits.
DJ had paid six million for the eight thousand square foot property, located on seventy-seven acres. Six million to a celebrity with DJ’s bank account was like a car payment to middle class America. He’d wanted a home, not just for him, but for the people who would spend time there with him.
The brick house with two chimneys, one on either end, had brown wood trim and a facade and foundation made of river rock, blending it with the forest that formed its secluded nest. The double-doored front entrance provided a spacious porch and covered spot for cars to discharge their passengers without subjecting them to inclement weather.
A four-car brick and stone garage connected to the house with a breezeway. The lower half was more stone and brick, with oval shaped openings in the wooden lattice on the upper part of the passage.
There were two guest houses, and a conservatory with fancy plants.
The garden “shed” attached to it was built more like a third guest house.
Did DJ garden? He glanced at his charge.
DJ’s chest rose and fell, but Roy couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake.
There wasn’t much difference right now. He was eating just enough that Roy couldn’t ride him.
Roy returned his attention to the report. There was an “east” garden and a “west” garden, with maintained paths. Milton Newell, the house manager, had told G that DJ had favorite composing spots along those paths.
The band called Milton “The Shadow” because he was so unobtrusive.
DJ held him in high esteem, trusting him with household and grounds management, including the supervision of two maids, a maintenance manager, and a landscaping team under the direction of a head gardener.
Everyone worked daylight hours four days a week.
DJ liked having his evenings and three-day weekends to himself.
G had run backgrounds on all of them. No new flags since their initial vetting by Henry upon hiring. She’d briefed them on the new security protocols that would be in place until DJ’s stalker was caught.
Though they were all reeling from the turn of events, G noted it had hit Milton the hardest, but he was solid, a man who could hold his shit together while grieving. Particularly if he had the distraction of taking care of DJ.
When Roy, DJ and the six-person transport team arrived at DJ’s home, Milton was at the front door, his face controlled but the anguish obvious.
They pulled their three vehicles around the water feature in the center of the circular drive.
The pool had a waterfall, sparkling water tumbling over flat rocks.
The rock border was carpeted with white groundcover flowers and ornamental grass.
A juniper next to the pool had been bonsaied into a weeping willow shape.
As DJ exited the car and approached the entrance, he held up a hand before Milton could say anything. He did grip Milton’s arm in brief solidarity, but DJ kept his elbow locked, holding the man at a distance. He mumbled something.
“Of course, DJ. Whatever you need.”
Milton was saying it to his back as DJ disappeared into the house. Milton stared after him, then his shoulders squared and he turned toward Roy and the others, professional politeness and welcome in his expression.
“Go keep tabs on him,” Roy told Ollie and Jason. “I’m going to review things with Milton.”
The desire to follow DJ was strong, but Roy needed to put his own eyes on the grounds and meet the staff. Even so, surveying the place DJ had chosen to give his bandmates a collective home, Roy struggled with an uneasy feeling, brought on by his own childhood memories.
His mother had found two abandoned puppies. They slept so tightly wrapped around one another in the bed she provided, she discarded the idea of finding separate homes for them.
“Those two won’t do well without each other. They might squabble on occasion, but it won’t be because they’re together too much. That part is like breathing, and when you’re apart, you don’t feel like you’re breathing right.”
DJ was struggling for oxygen right now. He might embrace his alone time when he composed, but the connection with his band members had been a circulatory system, pumping blood and life into all of them.
Forget oxygen. DJ was dealing with the amputation of three of his limbs.
The thought made Roy more certain that the video call he’d had with G and Warren before they left the hotel was the right decision.
They knew a lot about him, including his Dominant side.
Even so, what he’d laid out for them wasn’t his usual approach, so he’d needed to know they were on board and had no valid concerns.
He'd started with the familiar. “I’ve turned over what we have to the FBI. With them now involved, we have more resources on the case.”
“Did they offer additional people for his protection detail?” G asked.
“DJ refused it, at my recommendation. They aren’t trained for celebrity protection, and we and Henry’s team are. If they get involved, they’re going to want to take the lead, and that’s not the right call. Putting their energy toward finding this guy is how they can help.”
G and Warren’s expressions on the screen reflected relief, indicating their full agreement.
Now for the more difficult part. “Our job is to protect from physical threats. That’s still the priority. But he’s in trouble in a different way. It’s going to require a modified response from me.”
“You’re talking about the Dom/sub angle,” Warren said. While he wasn’t part of the lifestyle, he’d been to clubs with G, knew Roy was in that world, and what it was about.
“I’ve been taking the Dom/sub stuff slow with him.
Holding back on the deeper levels, because that’s not something I rush, and to make sure I’m not adversely impacting the bodyguard and client issue.
To help him, I may need to ramp that up.
If I need more coverage as a result, I want you aware of why that is, and make sure ahead of time you’re on board. ”
“We got you, boss,” G said solemnly. “If Warren is feeling lazy, I can do both our jobs. Don’t know why you pay him anyway.”
“Because he likes staring at my ass more than yours,” Warren drawled. “What she said, Roy. You need us to step up, we step up.”
Returning to the present, Roy introduced himself to Milton.
His belted slacks were ironed and the crisp open-necked button down had a silk vest over it.
His shoes were polished brogues. The blue eyes were direct, and there were streaks of gray in the black of his hair.
He looked able to manage a hefty load of responsibility, and his grip on Roy’s hand was firm.
“I’m very sorry,” Roy told him.
“Yes.” Milton’s voice was a Midwest accented tenor, but strong as a bridge cable. “We’ll help DJ however he needs it. And you, Mr. Bloodwell,” he added. “I’ll make sure the staff follows your every instruction.”
“Thank you. That makes a hard job less so. If you have any questions or concerns at any time, let us know. And when it comes to whether or not something is safe or normal, no one relies on their own judgment. Bring anything out of the ordinary to whichever security detail is on shift.”
Milton’s sober expression said he understood. “What do you need right now?”
“G told you I want to meet with the full staff?”
“Housekeeping and the gardener are already here, and the maintenance and landscaping teams will arrive in the next hour. I’ve told them you’ll be meeting with them then, as you requested.
Derrick is in testing the additional firewall on the home system that you directed Miss G to install, but will join you at the meeting and be available for your direction. ”
Derrick Monroe was in charge of home security and reported to Henry. The lean forty-something had served in the Army in his twenties, worked as a police officer in Asheville until thirty-five, and then gone into private security. He was solid. He had a home in Asheville, a wife and three kids.
“Good. I’m going to tour the house and grounds and check some details. You can help DJ get settled.”
Milton’s expression reflected the bleakness it had shown when DJ spoke to him. “He said he didn’t want to be disturbed until further notice. He said he’d call for a meal when he was ready for it. There are always some snacks and drinks in his room.”
“Okay.” Roy would address that later. “Just curious, Milton. How long did it take you to stop calling him Mr. James?”
“Pardon?”
“You still do a brief hitch when you say ‘DJ.’”
Milton’s mouth tightened in a faint, humorless smile.
“About a month. On Day 28, he told me if I didn’t realize he wasn’t a ‘Mr.’ anything, he’d put muddy shoes on the furniture, hang from the rafters like a naked bat, and worst of all, put my least favorite music on the house-wide speakers all day long. ”
“Sounds like him.”
“He’s a mix of mischievous boy and honest, very likeable man.” Milton pressed his lips together at what he obviously deemed too personal an insight, and added apologetically, “It won’t be the same here without them.”
“No, it won’t.”
Milton produced a slim phone from his coat pocket. “I’m sure G has told you how to reach me if you need me. I always have it on me.”
“Already in my contacts list and on speed dial.”