Chapter 2
DEVON
“You’re kidding, right?” I said, pointedly glancing down at the cash-filled coffee mug in my hand.
Apollo curled his lip as he stared up at me from his seat at the large conference table, a chocolate chip muffin on a paper plate beside him. “What? You asked for a donation. I gave you a donation.”
As Guardian Protection’s youngest and newest member, he wasn’t well-versed in how the collection cup worked. I couldn’t fault him for that. I could, however, rectify his assumption that a twenty spot would get me off his ass.
“You gave me a twenty,” I stated the obvious, in case he’d suddenly gone blind.
“Which, last I checked, is still American currency.”
“Sure, if your second cousin, twice removed turns ten and you have no idea what to get the kid as a gift.” Grabbing the chair beside him, I spun it on one leg and straddled it backwards.
The fabric of my baby blue button-down stretched taut across my back as I leaned in.
“However, this is for your boss’s birthday and we’re trying to buy him slightly better than matching friendship bracelets, so I’m gonna need you to dig deep inside that trust fund of yours and—” I thrust the mug under his nose. “—try a-fucking-gain.”
In a true show of defiance usually reserved for toddlers being fed vegetables, he swatted at the mug with both hands. “Get that thing out of my face.”
“Absolutely. Just as soon as you hand over Jackson’s four identical brothers.”
His chin jerked to the side as if I’d punched him.
Which, unfortunately, I’d never had the pleasure of doing.
For those years when he was Guardian Protection’s enemy numero uno, I’d considered, tried, and dreamed about feeding him my fist more than a few times.
But we were way past those days. The “touch him and enjoy a lifetime of unemployment” speech Leo had issued all of us the day he’d hired Apollo had helped to quell the desire too.
With an appalled laugh, Apollo raked a hand through his short blond hair. “You’re expecting me to give a hundred bucks to buy a birthday present for a man who is holding me hostage? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Yeah, okay, so maybe saying that Leo hired Apollo was a bit of an overstatement.
The kid didn’t need a job. Thanks to Daddy’s inheritance, he was loaded.
But he owed Leo a debt. A debt I was not privy to, and thank fuck for that.
I did not need the specifics on whatever the hell “special skills” (Read: seriously illegal shit) Apollo could do behind a computer.
We all had skeletons in our closets. It was almost a prerequisite to work at Guardian Protection Agency.
Some of those closets were larger than others.
Ranging from what I would consider a small apartment for myself to what I assumed was a whole fucking warehouse for a few of the guys.
But we didn’t ask questions, at least not the ones that truly mattered.
Guardian was a family. We gave each other hell and made it a point to know every damn detail of each other’s present while never diving into the past.
“Well,” I drawled. “Technically, I’m not expecting anything. That would be against office policy. The last thing I need is Sarah riding my ass for not reading her last HR memo,” I winked and nodded to the mug. “Like I said, this is just a simple request for a donation.”
He scoffed. “Simple request my ass.”
“Hey Devon,” Lark called as he sauntered over, a half-eaten cheese Danish cradled in hand. “You still collecting money for Leo?”
“Yep.”
He dug in his back pocket, pulled out a folded bill, and shoved it into the offering cup. “Fifty good?”
“Absolutely.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Apollo’s jaw drop. “Only fifty?”
Jesus, children can be so dramatic.
Lark’s forehead wrinkled as his gaze snapped to mine. “What does he mean, only fifty? I was trying to be generous. Alex said you were looking for twenty-five?”
Fighting back a grin, I patted Lark on the side. “Nah, buddy. Fifty’s more than generous. Much appreciated.” Basking in the fury on Apollo’s face, I swung a finger down to the other end of the conference table. “Last I checked, that box of donuts had a few left.”
Lark’s eyes lit. “Any chocolate?”
In his forties, Jeremy Lark did not fuck around when it came to keeping in shape. This meant he joined me in the gym every morning before coming to work, then plowed through enough sweets to land himself in a sugar coma. Priorities and all.
I had not the first clue what was in that box, as my pastry drug of choice was blueberry fritters, but it sounded like chocolate was my best bet to get his feet moving.
I arched an eyebrow. “Are there any other kind?”
“Nice,” he whispered, hurrying away.
Turning my attention back to Apollo, I shook the cup. “So, as I was saying.”
“Oh, fuck off.” He shot to his feet. “You got all the money I’m pissing away today. You think Leo gave a shit when it was my birthday and he had a man posted in my apartment so I couldn’t even leave to pick up dinner?”
“Trust me, none of us enjoyed that either. Your place smells like shit. You know what, maybe you should keep that extra eighty bucks and hire someone to come clean. Does your sister know you’re still living like a frat boy?”
He flicked me off. “Nah. But your mom didn’t seem to mind.”
I barked a laugh. A man was not raised by a woman who looked like Leslie Grant without hearing every MILF joke under the sun.
I’d learned way back in middle school, when every boy would froth at the mouth in the car pickup line, that it was easier to roll with the punches than spend the rest of my life in jail for dishing them out.
“Ah.” I rubbed my freshly shaven chin. “Have you followed up with that Doctor yet? Last I talked to Mom, she said your balls really should have dropped by now.”
He shot me an icy glare, which made my whole damn morning. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
I shrugged. “Not particularly.”
As a single guy who worked too hard, too much, I didn’t have a whole lot going on in my life. The majority of this shake-down was for pure entertainment. Fucking with Apollo was one of my favorite pastimes, right up there with college football and the bullshit on my neighborhood’s Facebook page.
The loud slide of a wolf whistle drew my attention to the hallway across the room. “Grant,” Aiden Johnson snapped like a whip, his densely tattooed arms crossed over his barrel chest. At six-four, two-hundred and fifty pounds, I was a big guy. Johnson was a beast though, in both size and attitude.
“What’s up?” I replied.
“Boss wants to see you.” He flicked his malevolent gaze at Apollo. “You too.”
Apollo’s eyes flashed wide. “Great. What the fuck did I do?”
Johnson arched a dark brow. “You want me to make a list? You know exactly where I’m gonna start, and I assure you it will not end with that bullshit you pulled behind McMurphy’s.”
On a normal day, I never would have questioned a comment like that. Prince Silver Spoon in his Ass was always up to some shit. Though I had to admit, the smug twitch of Apollo’s lips piqued my curiosity.
“Absolutely,” the kid quipped. “I’d love to see how you explain that one on paper.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Well, it was nice knowing you. Good luck in the afterlife.” However, in a shocking turn of events, Johnson did not immediately decapitate Apollo.
“Office,” Johnson clipped. “Now.”
Apollo’s grin stretched, and given the murder in Johnson’s eyes, it was seriously fucking ballsy. Though he did it while still maintaining a pulse, so maybe he wasn’t as big of a dumbass as I’d thought.
Johnson turned on a toe and marched away, the muscles on his back visibly tense through his black t-shirt.
“What the hell, Lo,” I shook my head. “You on a suicide mission?”
“Nope. Just sick of being treated like a dog around this place.” He flashed his gaze down at the cash mug.
“All right. Fair enough. I’ll stop giving you shit, but only if you tell me what the hell happened behind McMurphy’s.”
He scoffed. “You’d be better off asking him. He’ll probably fill that cup with enough cash to buy Leo a new car to avoid that conversation.”
Interesting.
I’d absolutely circle back to that one later.
Apollo started toward the office, and I fell into stride behind him. We wove our way through the chocolate-brown leather sofas. I set the mug of cash on the mantle as we passed.
Despite being the country’s premier personal security firm, Guardian Protection’s office had been decorated for comfort.
It was a really great space. Rhion, Apollo’s sister, lived one floor up along with a few other private owners. Basically, if you had the money to afford four-thousand-square-feet of prime real estate in Downtown Chicago, residential or commercial, that building was the place to be.
The door to Leo’s office was open when we arrived. Nothing unusual there, but the hard set of his jaw put me on alert. Johnson stood behind him, their eyes glued to a computer screen.
“You wanted to see me?” I asked.
He waved me in without looking up. “Lo,” he called. “Get this shit up on the big screen for me, yeah?”
Apollo rolled his eyes, shuffling over to the computer. “So glad I’ve been forced into a life of servitude so I can be your personal assistant. Can I get you any coffee while I’m at it?”
Johnson fired off a loud snap of his fingers. “Not fucking today. We got two men dead. I do not have the time or patience for your bullshit.”
My spine shot straight as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Who?”
Leo’s hollow brown eyes lifted to mine. The weight of his stare was so heavy it nearly knocked me back a step. “Not our men, but good men.”
I’d spent over a decade in personal protection, with most of my time in LA before being hired at Guardian. I had far too many friends, acquaintances, and enemies alike in the business to feel any relief that it wasn’t any of our men.
“Who?” I repeated.