Chapter Two
Either Korsan had become a mind reader, or the human had warned him of the visit because his brother emerged from his office just as Ruyn got there. “Before you say anything—” Korsan said.
“I do not need a nursemaid.”
“She’s not a nursemaid.”
“Project manager, personal assistant, slap on whatever euphemism you like, I don’t need someone to wipe my ass—”
“Come in. Sit down. We’ll talk about it.” Korsan eyed his assistant who tried to look as if he couldn’t hear a word.
Ruyn followed him into the office. After the charge over here, his leg was killing him.
Stifling a wince, he eased into a seat. Sitting, getting up, standing, walking—it all hurt.
He hated the hovering concern, the pitying glances.
The concessions to his injuries. Hated even more that he needed the concessions.
Not long ago, he’d been strong, robust, a force to be reckoned with. A warrior. He’d gone on numerous ground combat missions during his two decades in the space force and received many medals of valor, all without a single serious injury.
He’d come home on a mandatory respite furlough all soldiers were required to take. That was when his life took a bad turn.
He’d been asked for a favor—speak at a charity event for delinquent youth.
Korsan Enterprises was one of the corporate donors of the charity.
As a rambunctious adolescent, Ruyn had had a few skirmishes with the law.
Korsan had said a decorated soldier with his background might be relatable to troubled and troublesome boys.
How could he refuse? The speech had gone well, his young audience had been rapt, and the event organizers were effusive in their appreciation and praise.
Then he’d left the charity venue. Taking a shortcut home, he’d been ambushed by four masked males.
With his military training, he could have fought off two, maybe three. With four, he never had a chance.
Doctors had had to rebuild shattered bone.
Now, he couldn’t walk without dragging his left leg, which ached all the time and hurt like a motherphukker when it got cold or he stood too long, walked too far, or sat too long—too long defined as more than a few minutes.
They said pain and mobility would improve over time, but as he’d always limp, the injury ended his military career.
His body was a phukking mess—and so was his face, which had been slashed.
“I have an assistant,” Korsan pointed out.
“You need one. You work here. You own the company.”
“You work here, too.”
“Temporarily. Until I find something better—no offense.”
After being released from the hospital, with his military career DOA, he had to do something or lose his mind. His job options were limited; employment opportunities did not align with his skill set. An infantry soldier killed people. Not many civilian jobs called for that. No legal ones, anyway.
His brother had offered him a position with his company, “until you get back on your feet,” pun no doubt subconsciously intended. He’d taken it because it beat staring at four walls all day.
In hindsight, he should have stared at the walls. He did not need fraternal pity or guilt to remind him of how far he’d fallen.
“It’s not your fault,” he said for the umpteenth time.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to—”
“It’s not your fault. Now shut the phuk up about it and stop coddling me. If I need help, I’ll ask for it.”
“Really?”
No. “The nursemaid tells me—”
“She’s not a nursemaid, and her name is Michaela.”
“I don’t care. She tells me that since you hired her, I can’t fire her. So, you fire her.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t. It’s her or me. Either she leaves or I do.”
“I can’t fire her. Her GAL Friday contract guarantees her six months. She can only be fired for incompetence or malfeasance.”
“So, pick one and fire her!”
His brother’s eyes flashed with impatience. “Don’t be an ass. I’m not going to slander her with a false complaint. Give her a chance. You’ll see how much easier she’ll make your work life. She’ll organize your files, field your holograms, do whatever assistants do—”
“What if she quits of her own accord?”
“That would be up to her. Whether you like it or not, it’s for your own good. We can’t assume the attack was random: wrong place, wrong time.”
Ruyn narrowed his eyes. “What does the attack have to do with me supposedly needing administrative help?”
Korsan looked guilty as phuk. “Give her a chance.”
“Why is she really here?” he said in a low, menacing voice.
“It’s only temporary.”
“Korsan…” he growled.
“Okay. Okay. Michaela is your bodyguard! All right?”
“You’re phukking kidding me!” A bark of harsh laughter covered his humiliation.
“Her? One stiff breeze would blow her away. Laid up in the hospital with my leg in traction, I could mount a better defense than her.” His older brother must consider him a lost-cause cripple to hire a diminutive human female to be his bodyguard.
“She holds two black belts in Earth martial arts, and she’s a master-level sharpshooter with handheld and long-range laser weapons.
But,” he rushed on when Ruyn would have interrupted, “I didn’t hire her so much to provide physical protection as scoping out possible threats and conducting her own investigation to figure out who attacked you. ”
“You’ve lost your effing mind.” He stood up, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain. Without another word, he stalked out of the office.
If he couldn’t fire the nursemaid, and his brother wouldn’t, then he would motivate her to quit. He would become the biggest asshole of a boss Michaela Perine ever had.