6. Chapter 6
six
L ina stepped lightly on the wood tread of the stairs and was satisfied it didn’t creak. After giving Curtis one last warning to be quiet, she moved up the stairs fast and paused before the landing, making sure the hallway was clear. Spotting a couple of open doors, she signaled Curtis to stay put while she cleared those rooms.
She checked the closest door and found an empty bedroom decorated in a bird theme, but nothing was disturbed. She moved on to another room with one of those fancy exercise bikes with a giant monitor attached to it. Some loose equipment was neatly stored along one wall. Again, nothing looked misplaced or messy, like the situation downstairs. The last two doors were a bathroom and another beautifully decorated but without a personality bedroom.
Even in her focused mode, Lina couldn’t help but wonder which room was Curtis’ childhood bedroom. There was no trace of children ever living in this part of the house. Granted, the children were adults living on their own now. But her own parents’ house hadn’t seemed to change since she’d left for West Point.
Returning to the stairs, she gestured to Curtis that side of the floor was clear. She moved to the other end of the hall with only one double door.
“That’s my parents’ room,” Curtis whispered close to her ear, making Lina stiffen involuntarily.
“I told you to stay put,” she hissed under her breath.
“I’m not going—” he argued, but she put her fingers to his lips to shut him up.
“Stay behind me,” she warned, her voice barely audible. She pushed him back an arm’s length away.
Curtis’ brows furrowed in impatience, but he nodded.
It was no time to baby a client. Lina refocused on the target and crept toward the door, keeping all of her senses alert. The faint noises she’d heard earlier came from the master bedroom. A groan, as if someone was in pain, became clearer.
But the second sound made her freeze in her tracks. She put her ear closer to the door to make sure she didn’t mishear. In the next second, she abruptly straightened and spun to Curtis, double alert. She pointed him to the stairs.
He stared at her with big, questioning eyes. “What?” he mouthed.
“They’re fine,” she whispered. “Let’s go back downstairs.”
Looking at her as if she was insane, Curtis pushed past her.
Lina grabbed his arm and held him back. “You don’t want to go in there.”
Curtis growled at her this time. “Let me go.” He pulled away and stomped straight into his parents’ bedroom.
She shrugged and counted the seconds.
“For fuck’s sake!” she heard Curtis’ exclamation as a feminine shriek filled the air.
Another masculine voice boomed, “Curtis, what the hell?”
A rush of movement, followed by the slam of a door, delivered Curtis right back next to her. His hands covered his eyes this time.
“Fuck! My eyes!” he swore.
“I warned you,” she deadpanned.
Curtis dropped his hands and gave her a death stare. “Why the hell did you let me go in there?”
This time, Lina looked up and met his gaze without a word. She might give him some leeway for being a client under distress, but it didn’t mean he could take that tone with her.
“You could’ve been clearer,” he stubbornly argued.
She took a deep breath. “I told you they were fine and we should go downstairs. You ignored me and barged into your parents’ private room. I guess you forgot my rule.”
Looking a little sheepish now, Curtis grumbled but was saved by his father storming out of the bedroom in a pair of grey sweatpants and haphazardly thrown on T-shirt. His salt and pepper hair was all mussed and his aged-handsome face was all red—from exertion or embarrassment?
Probably both , Lina mused as she noted where Curtis got his lean six-four and broad-shouldered stature. Professor Bisset still got it.
“Curtis, what the hell are you doing, storming into our house like this?” Curtis’ dad demanded.
“What the hell am I doing? What the hell are you and mom doing?” Curtis fired back incredulously. “It’s freaking three in the afternoon! I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
The blush on the Professor’s skin went a shade deeper. “Your mom and I were…I don’t have to explain myself to you in my own home!”
Not listening to his father, Curtis barreled through. “And what’s with the mess downstairs? I thought we were too late!”
“We were going through old pictures. And what are you talking about?” the professor frowned. “Too late for what?” As if she’d just teleported to the scene, he finally noticed Lina. “And who is this?”
Lina regained control of the situation. “Dr. Bisset, I’m Lina Cheung. I’m your son’s security consultant. I apologize for surprising you like this. Why don’t you and Mrs. Bisset get dressed and meet us downstairs? We’ll explain everything.”
“Security?” The immediate concern on the older man’s face almost mirrored his son’s earlier frown. “What’s going on?”
“We’ll talk about it as soon as you come downstairs,” Lina said. “And I must stress soon . Time’s of the essence.”
Lina put a hand on Curtis’ arm to steer him back to the stairs, giving neither Curtis nor the professor room for argument. Without another word, the professor turned back into his room, but his son didn’t have the same self-restraint.
“I need to burn my eyes.” He shuddered as they climbed down.
“You’re overreacting.”
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be traumatized after seeing your dad ramming your mom from behind?” he turned to her.
“That’s very specific.”
“Yeah. Because I can’t unsee that! It’s seared into my brain now.” Curtis gripped his skull dramatically.
“You should be grateful your parents are still into each other.”
“I can be grateful without having to witness them doing the nasty.” He stalked into the kitchen.
Following him, Lina said, “They’re humans. They have needs. You think you’ll stop having sex when you reach their age? How old are they? Late fifties, early sixties?”
Curtis glared at her. “They’re my parents. I don’t want to know they do that.”
She smirked. “How do you think you came about? Immaculate conception?”
“No.” Curtis grumbled. “But damn it! Doggy-style is ruined for life now.”
“You find this funny?” Curtis crossed his arms at his chest and stared at Lina, who was laughing so hard her whole body shook. He finally made her laugh, but at his expense.
“It’s a little funny.”
“You wouldn’t find this amusing if you were in my shoes.” He jabbed a finger at her.
“Fair enough.” She lifted her hands in a truce, though there was still a smile on her face. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Curtis stomped to the liquor cabinet and found his dad’s scotch collection. Not caring which bottle he grabbed, he poured a sizable amount into a tumbler and downed the whole thing. He didn’t taste the malty flavor, but he welcomed the burning sensation as it rushed down his throat.
“Hey, it’s better if we keep our heads clear.” Lina stopped him from pouring another. Her hand on his felt rougher than what he thought a woman’s hand ought to feel like, but he could feel its firm gentleness peeling his death grip off the bottle.
She looked up to meet his eyes—her gaze direct but not unkind. “Can you keep it together to talk to your parents about our situation? We need to move fast. We might have lost that Blazer for now, but there’s no guarantee they don’t know where your parents live.”
Curtis swallowed bile that threatened to spill at the reminder.
“I need to touch base with Marcus. Can I trust you to brief your parents and get them packed up as fast as possible?” she asked.
He gave a curt nod.
With one last look, Lina put the scotch bottle away, then walked out, phone at her ear.
Thrumming his fidgety fingers against his thighs, Curtis itched to do something. After sitting in the car for over two hours, his muscles were tight, like a coil ready to spring. The adrenaline from shaking their follower and worrying about his parents wasn’t helping, either. The alcohol didn’t seem to dull any of it.
What I need is an hour on the mat .
Curtis imagined how satisfying it would feel at that moment to actually fight someone at his dojo. If not facing one of his sparring partners, at least a bag to punch and kick would be helpful to get out all this pent-up energy. But before he could find an alternative way to release his frustration, his parents walked in.
“Curtis,” his mother greeted evenly. Even if her still-porcelain-smooth skin was tinged pink, her shoulders were as square and steady as always, and she was now dressed in her usual attire of slacks, shirt, and cardigan.
“Mother. You covered up pretty well.”
“Don’t be fresh with me. You embarrassed both your father and me enough,” Susan Bisset reprimanded him. Her stern, high voice could still shrivel up his balls without fail.
“You owe your mother an apology,” his father agreed with a huff.
Dr. Henry Bisset was a professor of mathematics at the university. He had a still-waters-run-deep demeanor and let his type-A wife run his life. Growing up, Curtis had rarely seen the professor worked up. He often wondered how he could have spawned from these parents. His sister, Callie, was as gifted scholarly as their father and had the same tenacity as their mother—even if she wouldn’t admit it. Curtis had always been the oddball in the family. But the present situation was an anomaly and gave him a whole new perspective on his parents.
“What am I apologizing for? I’m the one who’ll have to be in therapy for the rest of my life,” Curtis retorted.
“Did I not teach you not to barge into someone’s space, especially if their door was closed?” Mom demanded.
“The door was ajar,” Curtis replied lamely. “Fine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had to see my parents going at it like a couple of rabbits in the middle of the afternoon.”
“For crying out loud!” Dad almost roared.
It was his mom who marched to him, caught him by the ear, and pulled him to her level. “You may be thirty-four, but I won’t hesitate to put you in your place.”
“Ow! Alright, alright,” Curtis yelped as he pulled away and rubbed his ear. “I apologize for barging in. I thought you were in danger.”
Now both of his parents frowned at him. “Why would you think we were in danger?”
“Look, it’s a long story that I’ll tell you on the way, but we need you to pack a bag. We need to get away for a few days, maybe a week. Maybe longer.”
“Why? Where?” Dad asked.
“Who’s we?” Mom added.
“Lina—she’s my bodyguard. She’s outside arranging things. But long story short, the mob is after me. Lina is taking us somewhere safe—”
“What do you mean, the mob is after you?” Mom asked, her eyes widening behind her glasses.
“I can’t go into details right now. You just need to understand that you might be in danger, too.” Curtis turned his parents back around toward the stairs. “I need you to pack light and fast. Just the essentials.”
“I can’t go. I have classes to teach,” Dad protested.
“Your TA can cover for you.” Curtis knew his dad barely taught his classes anymore. He really should retire.
“But I—” Mom protested, too.
“What part of ‘in danger’ don’t you understand?” Curtis cut her off in frustration. “I got threatened with a package with a dead rat stabbed with a stiletto this morning. We had to lose a car tailing us just before we got here. Please, just pack!”
His parents stared at him with slacken jaws, but his mom recovered first. “Okay, we’ll be right back.”
Curtis heaved a sigh. “Thank you.”
Mom pulled Dad quickly up the stairs.
“And no hanky-panky!” Curtis shouted after them.