Chapter 3
Southampton
New York
After the chopper ride to the private airport, Stan, Michael, and Trevor boarded the Calder Defense jet.
The flight from New York to West Palm was uneventful, leaving Stan with too much time to think.
It had taken him months to stop obsessing about Jenny, to close that door completely.
He’d been a wreck. Him—a wreck. But he’d worked hard, and had all but managed to erase her from his mind.
Except, there she was, racing back into his life and into his thoughts.
Of all the women he’d been involved with romantically, Jenny was the one he’d spent the least amount of time with, but she knew him better than anyone. What they’d had was infinite.
Pathetic. Get a hold of yourself.
They’d been friends, and maybe could have been something more, when they were in law school, but after a traumatic incident occurred to their friend, Jenny had run from Stan.
Then, years later, they’d had two incredible weeks together after a chance meeting in Palm Beach where he’d just finished a job.
He was walking down the cobbled sidewalk and BOOM, there she was, her perfectly toned arms clutched in his hands.
She’d literally stepped right into him. Her beautiful, upturned face looking up at him in shock.
Jenifer Lynne D’Angelo.
Startled to see his old love in front of him, Stan had broken every rule he’d stood by his entire adult life just to spend time with her.
The moment he’d run into her, literally, and touched her, felt her, he was done.
It was a train wreck you could see coming from a mile away; once in motion, there was no stopping it.
Inevitable, for them both. Yes, in this, he could speak for Jenny without being presumptuous.
They were—or at least had been—one hundred percent on the same page from the minute they met. Pity she hadn’t realized that.
Over the next fourteen days they’d been inseparable, with each day better than the last. Layer upon layer of mutual understanding, spoken and unspoken.
Stan had never known anything like it. He knew that his gut had been right back in law school.
He and Jenny were meant to be together. It had all been completely perfect, except for one monumental snag: Jenny had chosen the wrong guy back then.
Stan had only known John on the periphery, but he’d never liked him.
John could be a blustery kind of guy, which, in Stan’s experience, was usually an indication of underlying insecurities.
But Stan respected boundaries, so though he’d been interested in pursuing her, after Jenny chose John, Stan had kept his distance.
It turned out John had been the wrong guy for her, and by the time they met in Palm Beach, Jenny had already begun divorce proceedings.
Knowing this, Stan had parted ways with her easily and eagerly after those two blissful weeks—figuring that the sooner she went back home to settle things and attend the court date that would finalize the divorce, the sooner she could return to him.
According to Jenny, the proceedings should have already been completed, but instead had been going on for months because John had dragged the whole thing out longer than necessary.
They arranged to meet back at the hotel at the end of the week. Because Stan had worked for the owner on several occasions, he’d usually had access to a room or suite, depending on the season, and had decided to wait for Jenny there.
They’d agreed on no communication until Jenny returned (having decided that they both needed clear—or clearer—heads, and already knew they were more than ready to finally begin their lives together after all these years), but then Stan got a text from Jenny saying that she had been in a car accident.
By the time he’d arrived at the hospital, however, John had been all over her.
His heart in his mouth, Stan had watched them from the doorway.
He’d known, or thought he’d known, that they’d already sorted everything out.
Their divorce should have been made final the day before.
But based on what Stan had witnessed in that room, they’d clearly gotten back together.
Stan was heartbroken, but not too surprised—after all, she’d done it to him before. Run from him in the past. So, that day in the hospital, before Jenny could notice him, he’d walked out. Crushed.
He’d left the States that week, heading back to the UK, where he’d already had a stellar reputation—packed his bags, crossed the pond, lowered the (emotional) steel walls, and, BOOM, was back inside the lines.
Stan had always been a rules guy—all about protocol, so working for the Agency right out of law school and then private security afterward had been perfect for him.
The jobs had allowed him to take and give orders, something he’d found comfort in.
Stan had never seen to a task more diligently.
He took on a couple quick jobs, until late one night, Sam called with the news that Amanda needed help.
It was just what he’d needed. Though it had turned out to be his most complicated post yet, it had helped him compartmentalize and close the door on Jenny D’Angelo.
Lock it. And throw away the key.
“Link’s active,” Trevor said, pulling Stan from his musings just in time to see a notification flash on his laptop.
Stan scanned the docs that had come in, shaking his head before scrolling back to the top to check the data entry. He cast a look at Trevor. “Jenifer Lynne—with an e, D’Angelo?” At Trevor’s nod, he pressed, “Ten. Two—”
“Affirmative,” Trevor told him, verifying her birthdate.
It wasn’t good. In the three-and-a-half hours since they’d taken the case, the crew had compiled a comprehensive dossier.
Of the list of disclosures before him, he’d expected none.
It appeared that, just over a year ago, Jenny had leased a house on the beach using an assumed name.
Not an easy feat in these times, with landlords insisting on more than a hefty down payment and security deposit.
Not to mention, tech trails were nearly impossible to evade. So, why the secrecy?
The next piece of intel was more alarming.
She’d purchased a gun around the same time she’d leased the house, had a burner phone, and three safety deposit boxes scattered across the city.
Abnormal behavior for the average citizen.
The final bit of information was another surprise.
Her divorce was finalized. Had been since a month after her accident.
Twenty-nine days to be exact.
Stan tried not to wonder what would have happened if he’d stuck around. He didn’t have time to sink into the quagmire of what-ifs. He was on the job. Rules Stan was in control. He’d dissect this information later. Objectively. Logically.
He’d pick it apart with a God damned butter knife.
Jenifer Lynne D’Angelo.
After sorting through the intel a bit more—receipts, mapped locations, divorce papers—he saw another file, this one locked. “What’s this?” He flipped the screen back to Trevor.
“It’s encrypted.”
His look said, Gee, Trev, really? But Trevor just shrugged, so Michael threw a pillow at him. The whole Calder team felt like they were brothers, but Trevor and Michael were actually brothers, Michael being the oldest of the two, and the team affectionately referred to them as “the boys.”
“Sorry, Boss.”
Stan being lead did technically make him the boss on this mission, but Trevor used the moniker for everyone save his brother. Wondering why Alex had already encrypted a file, but not willing to bother him on his wedding night, Stan went for the next best source.
“Get Mr. D’Angelo on the phone,” he said. Jenny’s father, Gianni, was the last person Stan felt like speaking with, but the one person he couldn’t avoid because he knew the man would have the goods.
Trevor made the connection, laying a device on the table between them.
Ten minutes later, Stan’s blood pressure was at an all-time high. A feat for someone who had never suffered from high blood pressure. Gianni had been beside himself, said John had something big hanging over Jenny—something besides his usual narcissistic, gaslighting, mind-games bullshit.
Stan abhorred men like that, men who manipulated those closest to them.
When they’d been together in Florida, Jenny hadn’t said much about John. In fact, aside from sharing the news of their upcoming divorce, she’d been very tight-lipped about him. With all that he’d learned since, Stan knew why.
“That dirtbag and his family are done messing around with her, son. I don’t care how connected they are.
Ties have been cut.” It was the third time he’d said that.
“Son.” Way back when, Mr. D’Angelo had always called him “Son,” though, ironically, he’d referred to John by his given name.
“He took my sweet, good-hearted girl and brainwashed her into some timid, fearful woman I barely recognize at times. She’s doing better now, but she thinks she deserves to be alone. Bring her home, and I mean tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I spoke with Alex. We both think it’s best she stay at the Montgomerys’ for now.”
“I—” Stan was about to argue, but, as the runway lights came into view, thought better of it. Besides, he didn’t want to air personal business in front of the boys. “Copy that.”
“One more thing, son,” Mr. D’Angelo added before taking a pregnant pause. When he spoke again, it was with a slight shift in tenor. “There’s a baby.”
“Baby? Sir? Sir?”
Trev shook his head, indicating that the call had been terminated. Stan didn’t have time to dwell on the bomb Mr. D’Angelo had dropped, though, as the jet touched down seconds later. It was go time.