Chapter 14 #2
He lowers the grill cover and holds his beer out, brows drawn together. “How’d you guess that?”
“At lunch, they were talking about them expanding security.” Still, that’s quick. “What did they do? Call you?”
“After I dropped you off this morning, Sterling and Weaver fell in line behind me at the coffee shop. It was really Weaver who drove the conversation. Did you mention to her that I'm former military?”
“I did. But I didn’t go into detail.”
“Well, I emailed her my resume. It’s one the Navy spiffed up for me so it doesn’t show KOAN because that was before they hired me. Weaver called within the hour. Had an afternoon interview and received a job offer on the spot. Wham bam, thank you, ma’am.”
He looks inordinately pleased with himself. But… “You know, you don’t have to take the job just to be inside the office. That’s completely unnecessary.”
“Hey now,” he backs up against the balcony with a wide grin, “I’m getting two salaries. Don’t go killing my gig.”
I lean forward on my chair to clink beer necks again, returning his grin. Two salaries—that is a sweet gig. I should know, it’s my current situation.
“And Phillip Sterling was so impressed with my resume he wants me on his personal detail. So, I may actually be in a position to learn more about what he’s really up to than you are.”
I haven’t seen Jake’s resume, but given he was Special Ops, a SEAL no less, I imagine Phillip Sterling was salivating over his good luck.
“I bet you were by far the best candidate they’ve seen.”
He grins, quite proud of himself.
“So that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Not your job,” I clarify, “but that they’re increasing security. That says to me Phillip’s scared. Do you think maybe he knows Jocelyn died in her office, but he doesn’t know how? Or maybe he suspects how, and he thinks he might be next?”
“Hard to say.” The steak sizzles and his attention falls to the grill. “But yeah, typically people who hire security fear someone. Now, most of the time, that’s a nameless someone, but not always.”
“When I went into the office this morning, I’d been certain he was the guilty party.
Not necessarily the one who killed and moved the body, but who had it done.
I mean, the man’s in his sixties and looks like he outsources everything in his life, from yard work to picking up his dry cleaning.
But now, I’m not so sure. Still, Sterling Financial has had a lot of bad press.
An employee who committed suicide, plus a fund that collapsed with victims calling for an investigation.
If the employee who runs all of his financial reports dies… ”
“At the very least, he’d be a person of interest. Police would ask what he did last weekend.”
“But beefing up security—that says to me he’s nervous someone might be coming after him.”
“Maybe Jocelyn was in on it and he knows who went after her and suspects he’s next,” Jake says, stating out loud a thought I’d already had—it’s The Terminal List theory.
“Well, my start date is Thursday. He’s ordering suits for me.
Guess he didn’t like the idea of me showing up at the office in my khakis. ”
“You don’t own any black suits?” I ask, taking in the hairy, muscular calves that extend below his cargo shorts and his bare feet.
He looks like the kind of guy that would have a surfboard rack on his SUV.
I’d bet he hates suits and ties with the same vehemence I hold for five-inch pointy cram-your-toes stilettos.
“One suit,” he answers, closing the lid on the grill. “My funeral suit. But it’s in storage.”
“I thought you military guys wore your uniform to funerals.”
“I was raised in Georgia and my momma taught me every man needs a proper suit he can wear to a funeral.”
“So how old is that ‘proper’ suit?”
He waves the grill fork at me. “Watch it.” He sniffs and takes a swallow of his beer.
This feels dangerously normal. The casual domesticity of it—him cooking, me relaxing with a beer, the warm evening air and comfortable conversation. It’s exactly the kind of scene I avoid because it makes me want normal and normal’s overrated.
He sets his beer down. “Based on what he had me order, he wants his team to be all matchy-matchy.”
“So it’s you plus others?”
“Yes, ma’am. I asked. They said that they were increasing security presence at the recommendation of their legal team and insurance provider. I asked if that meant they’d received threats, and was told no, but that they have chosen to follow the advice of counsel.”
“Do you believe them?”
“I believe that if they’ve received any threats, they don’t want to share them with someone they’re interviewing for a job.
I also believe if they understand the role of a protective service, if they’ve received any threats, they’ll share them with their protective detail once they’re under contract. ”
“So maybe once you’re brought on board and you’re official you’ll learn more?”
“If he’s smart.”
“You said him. Did you interview with Phillip or HR?”
“Sterling and Weaver. And by the way, Mr. Sterling thinks a lot of you.”
“Well, like I told you, he’s hoping I’ll build a tool that will make him invincible in the market.”
“You making any progress?”
I just roll my eyes because the idea is ludicrous. No one can predict the future. I can build a tool that interprets vast amounts of data and derives educated theories, but it’s still a glorified bet on the future.
“I’ve been keeping Rhodes updated. You know, my other boss. He’s worried. Wants to expand KOAN’s team. I told him it’s not necessary.”
“Quinn mentioned they’re prepping others.”
“To what? Come sit here across the street?”
“If that’s what it takes.” Jake shrugs and lifts the lid on the grill again.
“Someone was likely murdered, and without a doubt, the body was moved. Gotta agree with Rhodes. Backup’s not a bad idea.
” He removes the filets from the grill and sets them on a platter, and I hop up to help with the grilled veggies in the stainless-steel grill basket.
“At first, we thought you were just digging for evidence to prove he purposefully swindled investors. Now someone’s dead and it’s hands down, suspicious as fuck. Do you trust Rhodes?”
“Sure. He’s one of my best friends. The boss thing is irrelevant really.”
“I’ve never trusted the wealthy elite.”
His confession has me doing a double-take. “Define wealthy elite.”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, stepping over the threshold, platter in one hand, beer in the other. “Super-rich. Multi-million-dollar home. As likely to drop two hundred K on a car as on a watch.”
“Rhodes isn’t like that. Money isn’t what motivates him.
” I step through the doorway into the apartment, grilled veggie bowl in hand.
“But by your definition, I might’ve been one of them.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m way too cheap to spend six figures on a car, but I came close to being all that. ”
“Might’ve been? What do you mean?”
“Well, if I had acted on an offer Rhodes made a few years ago, I’d have ownership in ARGUS.”
“But you didn’t?”
“Nah.” That’s a decision I will likely regret years into the future. “I have this thing with commitments.”
“Thing?”
“At the time, I didn’t stay at one company for very long. The offer had vesting periods, and it just felt like a way to trap me or something. But now…years have gone by.”
“And you’re still working for him and if you’d taken the offer you’d be worth a mint?”
“If only someone could write a program that predicts the future, huh? I check my horoscopes daily, but they let me down bigly.”
“Well, you may have missed out on your opportunity to join the wealthy elite, but tonight, I say we’re eating steak and celebrating that we’re both collecting two salaries. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds good.”
Like me, he’s barefoot. There’s something about watching him, so natural and in his element, preparing for a mundane event like dinner.
The kind of event that growing up I understood was completely normal for my friends, but not so much for me as my mom had her life that she pursued.
It wasn’t until I was older that Uncle Alvin started inviting me over for dinner.
The memory isn’t one I wish to dwell on, as it stirs up wasted emotions.
Jake’s green eyes home in on me like he senses something’s not right—and it isn’t.
And that’s for several reasons, but mainly because I keep thinking about the kiss.
Our kiss that felt like something but then there was Sterling—
“What is it?”
He’s sitting, a fork in one hand, knife in the other, ready to dive in, and I’m still standing, lost in what happened this morning. And that’s a waste of time.
“Look…that kiss, earlier. Nothing can happen between us. You know that, right?”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy as humidity. Jake’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth, and I can hear my pulse in my ears, louder than the rumbling of engines on the street below. The taste of beer turns metallic on my tongue.
“Nothing can happen.” He holds my gaze a beat too long, then looks down at his steak. “Got it.”
There’s no animosity in his words. He doesn’t seem like he cares that much one way or the other. It’s all me. I’m the one who is twisting things and being a ninny. He probably just saw Phillip and I went and read into the situation.
“You gonna sit?”
“Yeah.” I pull out the chair and sit, feeling better having that out of the way, and yet not necessarily feeling better at all.