Chapter 4
DECLAN
"Some jobs change you," I say, watching the tension in Ethan's shoulders. "And this one's already changing you, Boss."
My words hang between us in the quiet of the pool house. Ethan doesn't respond, just gives me that level stare he uses when he doesn't want to admit I'm right. Not that I need his confirmation. I've known him long enough to recognize when something, or someone, has gotten under his skin.
It's been less than twenty-four hours since we met Jade Sinclair, and already the job feels different.
Usually, the first day involves establishing security protocols and doing thorough assessments.
Instead, Ethan made the unprecedented decision to move us all in, and the tension from yesterday's awkward first meeting still lingers in the air.
Morning light filters through the windows of the pool house, casting long shadows across the polished concrete floors.
I've been up since 4 AM, keeping watch, checking perimeters, making mental notes of security weaknesses.
Old habits. Prison teaches you to be alert even in your sleep, and two years inside doesn't wash away easily.
Mateo's still asleep, sprawled across his bed like he doesn't have a care in the world.
In some ways, he doesn't. That's the thing about the him.
He bounces through life with an ease I've never known.
Everything's a joke, a game, an opportunity.
I used to find it irritating as hell, but now I understand it's just who he is.
It's why Ethan and I feel so protective of him, though neither of us would ever admit it.
I check my watch. 0730. Late by my standards, but I doubt our client is an early riser. From what little I've seen of Jade Sinclair, she seems like the type to sleep until noon and expect the world to wait for her. The "Ice Queen," as the tabloids call her.
Not that I put much stock into what they say. Criticism is often a confession. And I know better than to judge others. God knows, I have been on the receiving end of superficial judgments, not to do the same to others. But first impressions matter, and hers wasn't great.
Though I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed other things too. The way she held herself despite obvious pain. The flicker of genuine fear in her eyes when she saw that note. The freckles across her nose that somehow made her seem more real than the glossy magazine covers I've seen her on.
Not that it matters. I'm here to do a job, not get distracted by a pretty face. Even a very pretty face framed by copper hair that caught the sunlight like...
The sound of the front door opening pulls me from my thoughts. Ethan enters, back from his perimeter check, a paper bag in one hand and a drink carrier in the other.
"Found a coffee place down the road," he explains, setting everything on the kitchen counter. "Figured we could use it."
Before either of us can grab a cup, there's a knock at the door. Ethan and I exchange a glance, instantly alert. No one should be able to get past the front gate without us knowing.
I move to the side of the door while Ethan approaches directly, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon.
"Hello? Mr. Cross? Are you in there?" A female voice, young, uncertain.
Ethan relaxes slightly but doesn't drop his guard entirely as he opens the door.
Standing on our doorstep is a young woman, probably early twenties, with a bright smile and a tablet clutched to her chest. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she's dressed in what I assume passes for business casual in California: flowing pants, a silky top, and sandals that look both expensive and impractical.
"Hi! I'm Sophie, Jade's assistant." She extends her hand to Ethan, who takes it automatically. "I'm sorry to bother you so early, but Miss Sinclair would like to speak with you in the main house at your earliest convenience."
The way she says it makes it clear that "earliest convenience" means "right now."
"Of course," Ethan says smoothly. "We were just about to have coffee. Would you care to join us?"
Sophie looks momentarily flustered. "Oh! Um, I should really get back. Miss Sinclair is waiting, and she does not like waiting... Um, also, I need to know what you like to eat."
Ethan and I look at each other puzzled and then at Sophie waiting for clarification.
"For the meals, you know, like, we have a catering service that provides all the meals, and like, if you are going to stay here for a while, I need to know your preferences, allergies, stuff like that.
It's all here in this list, you can add any information you want.
You can give me the list later on." She stops suddenly.
"Anyway, she's waiting. In the living room. "
She offers another bright smile before turning to leave, nearly tripping over a potted plant as she does.
When she's gone, I raise an eyebrow at Ethan. "The Queen summons her subjects. Well, who's gonna bend the knee?"
Ethan sighs. "Let's wake up Mateo and head over."
"Why? She only needs one of us to lay down the ground rules. The other two can keep working on security." I take a sip of the coffee Ethan brought. Black, no sugar, just how I like it. "Besides, after yesterday's first impression, I doubt she wants to see all three of us at once."
"Valid point," he concedes. "Who goes?"
"Not Mateo," I say immediately. "He's already on thin ice with her."
Ethan rubs his jaw, stubble rasping against his palm. "I should probably go. Set a professional tone."
"You seem..." I want to say invested, but instead say, "Tired. You've taken the dawn schedule. Get some shut eye. I'll go."
He looks like he might argue, then nods. "You're right. Keep it simple, professional. Establish the security protocols without compromising them."
"You act like I don't know how to talk to people, Boss."
"You don't talk to people," he points out. "That's kind of your thing."
I shrug. He's not wrong. Between the three of us, I'm the quiet one. Always have been. Ethan leads, Mateo charms, and I... observe. It's served me well over the years. People reveal more when they're trying to fill your silence than they ever do when you're asking questions.
"I'll handle it," I assure him.
"Just remember, we need her cooperation. This isn't a hostile extraction.”
"Meaning?"
“Meaning don't intimidate her into compliance."
I almost smile at that. "When have I ever?"
"Kabul, 2016," he says immediately. "That local informant who wouldn't give us the location of the weapons cache."
"He was stalling."
"Rio, 2018," Ethan continues. "That club owner who wouldn't let us access his security feeds."
"He was dirty."
"Last month, that lawyer in San Diego who..."
"Fine," I cut him off. "I get it. I'll be nice."
"I'm not asking for nice. Just... measured."
Twenty minutes later, I'm standing in Jade Sinclair's living room, watching her pace like a caged tiger.
She's dressed casually: yoga pants, loose t-shirt, hair piled on top of her head, but somehow still manages to look like she could step onto a runway at any moment.
The bruise at her hairline is starting to fade but remains visible, a stark purple against her fair skin.
Sophie hovers nearby, tablet in hand, looking anxious. "Would you like some coffee, Mr. Reid? Or tea? We have several kinds, or I could make a smoothie..."
"He's fine," Jade cuts her off, finally stopping her pacing to face me. "This won't take long."
Sophie nods, backing away slightly but not leaving the room. I wonder if she's always this nervous around her boss.
"Miss Sinclair," I acknowledge with a slight nod.
"Mr. Reid," she responds coolly. "I have reconciled with the idea that I need a live-in security team, but like I said yesterday, I want to establish some ground rules since it appears I'm stuck with your team for the foreseeable future."
I don't answer, just wait. Let her talk. Let her reveal herself.
"First, I value my privacy," she continues. "Your presence will be tolerated, but I expect you to be invisible when I'm working. No hovering, no interrupting photoshoots or meetings, no intimidating my colleagues or staff." She gestures to Sophie, who offers a weak smile.
"Second, I won't have my movements restricted. I go where I need to go, when I need to go there. You can secure the house, but my schedule remains mine to control."
She pauses, as if waiting for me to object. When I don't, she continues.
"Third, I don't want any of you speaking to the press. Ever. About anything. If someone approaches you claiming to be a friend, colleague, or associate of mine, you verify with me or Gloria first."
Another pause. Another expectant look.
"Is that all?" I finally ask, my voice calm.
She seems slightly thrown by my lack of reaction. "For now."
I nod once, then meet her gaze directly. "No."
"Excuse me?"
"No," I repeat, still calm. "Those terms aren't acceptable."
I see the flash of anger in her eyes, the slight flush rising to her cheeks.
"These aren't negotiable."
"Neither is your safety." I take a step forward, keeping my voice level despite the frustration building beneath the surface.
"In case you've forgotten, someone tried to kill you.
They struck you hard enough to knock you unconscious and leave that bruise.
" I gesture to her forehead. "They left you to drown.
And now they're sending you threats that reference something from your past that clearly terrifies you. "
Her eyes widen slightly, and I see Sophie glance between us, clearly confused.
"So," I continue, "here are the actual ground rules. We will try to be discreet when you're working, but we will be present. Always. Your movements will be restricted if we determine there's a threat. Your schedule will be shared with us in advance, and any changes will be cleared with us first."
"That's completely..."
"I'm not finished," I cut her off, my voice still measured but with an edge now.
"We will never speak to the press. That's a given.
We will verify the identities of everyone who approaches you that we don't personally know.
And most importantly, when we tell you something is unsafe, you will listen. "
The room is silent for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut. Sophie looks like she might bolt at any second.
"And if I don't agree?" Jade finally asks, her voice tight.
"Then we leave. Today. And you can find another security team who will pretend to protect you while actually just taking your money.
" I step closer, close enough that I have to look down to meet her eyes.
"But understand this: if we leave and this stalker gets to you, that's on you.
Because we tried to do our job, and you wouldn't let us. "
I see the conflict in her face, the anger warring with what I suspect is fear. For all her bravado, Jade Sinclair is scared. And for some reason, that bothers me more than her attitude.
"Fine," she concedes after a long moment. "But I expect professionalism at all times. No interference beyond what is strictly necessary."
"Agreed," I nod. "And in return, I expect cooperation. Starting with self-defense training."
The words come out before I've fully thought them through. I hadn't planned to suggest this, hadn't discussed it with Ethan or Mateo. But standing here, seeing that bruise, imagining what might have happened if someone hadn't pulled her from that pool in time, it seems necessary.
"Self-defense?" she repeats, eyebrows raised. "I'm hiring you so I don't have to defend myself."
"We can't be with you every second of every day for the rest of your life," I point out. "And even if we're right beside you, having basic skills could make the difference between surviving an attack and not."
"I have a busy schedule. I don't have time for..."
"You'll make time," I interrupt. "One hour, three times a week. I'll teach you myself."
She stares at me like I've grown a second head. "You?"
I don't know why, but that single word, the disbelief in her tone, irritates me more than anything else she's said. "Yes, me. I'm a black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. It's particularly effective for someone your size..."
"Someone my size?" She exclaims, her green eyes flashing with irritation. "What exactly is wrong about my size?"
"You didn't let me finish," I say between clenched teeth. "What I was about to say is that knowing some self-defense techniques based on jiu-jitsu will be helpful for someone your size when facing larger opponents."
"Oh..." She backs down. "And what if I choose not to?"
"Then you're choosing to remain vulnerable when you don't have to be." I step back, giving her space again. "Your choice."
She studies me for a long moment, her green eyes narrowed. I keep my face impassive, waiting.
"Fine," she says finally. "But we do it here, in the gym, and you train my team also. You also teach Sophie and Gloria some self defense."
"Me?" Sophie squeaks. I glance at the assistant, who looks startled at being mentioned.
"Yes," Jade confirms. "You should learn too. In case..." She doesn't finish the thought, but she doesn't need to. In case whoever is after her comes for the people around her too.
It's the first thing she's said that makes me think there might be more to Jade Sinclair than the Ice Queen persona. She's thinking about protecting her team, not just herself.
She turns away, dismissing me. "Sophie will show you out."
As Sophie leads me back to the door, I can't help but wonder what I've just gotten myself into.
I've never offered to personally train a client before.
Never inserted myself into their daily routine like this.
It's unprofessional, unnecessary, and bound to complicate an already complicated situation.
Walking back to the pool house, I try to rationalize my actions.
It's about security. About giving her tools to protect herself.
About doing the job properly. But even as I think it, I know there's something else, something about the way her eyes flashed when she was angry, the determination in her stance despite her fear, the bruise that makes me want to find whoever hurt her and make them pay.
Last night I called Ethan out for acting out of character, for letting this job, this woman, affect his judgment after less than a day.
Now here I am, not even twenty-four hours after meeting Jade Sinclair, volunteering for close physical contact three times a week.
What the hell is it about her that's making both of us break our own rules?
"Fuck my life," I mutter as I push open the door to the pool house, already dreading having to explain to Ethan why I've just become the world's most overpaid self-defense instructor.