Chapter 8 Devon
DEVON
The flight out of LA had been uneventful.
Just a sleek private jet, a locked cockpit, and enough empty sky to pretend that the world couldn’t reach her.
Most of the way, Lofton had slept curled into the leather seat with a blanket pulled up to her chin.
Her lashes rested peacefully against her cheeks as if she’d finally run out of adrenaline to burn.
Nashville came and went in a blur of asphalt and road signs. The drive west was an easy two-hour shot down the interstate. No traffic. No detours. Just mile after mile of open road.
After we’d reached Dollton, I’d clocked exactly three stoplights.
No Walmart. No Starbucks. Not a single corporate logo in sight.
It was all mom-and-pop shops with hand-painted signs.
Miller’s Market. Keller’s Feed his gray hair being the only real tell of his age. Though it did little to soften him.
“Devon Grant,” he called. “You look like hell.”
“Missed you too, old man.”
I extended my palm from the car window, and he met it for a firm shake.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Same thing as you. Leo dangled a paycheck in my face and told me the world was on fire. Retirement didn’t stand a chance.”
My brows shot up my forehead. “No shit?”
“Matt too. He’s on night shift.”
I blinked. Damn, Leo was not fucking around. Chris Carroll and Matt Schifler were Leo’s old buddies from when he worked with the DEA. They popped into Guardian every few months to shoot the shit so I’d gotten to know them pretty well over the years.
I’d never seen them in action, but after the stories I’d heard, I knew they were good.
And thank fuck for that.
Two men I trusted having my back. Men who didn’t get sloppy and, despite a lifetime of experience, men who knew when to check their ego at the door and put the client first.
My whole body sagged. “God, I’m glad to see you. Hotel security was a joke in LA.”
“Yeah, well,” he said dryly. “Nothing funny here. I’m gonna need to see some IDs.”
I stared at him. “You know who I am.”
He nodded. “Sure do.”
I hooked my thumb toward the back seat. “Lofton Beck.”
He leaned in and offered her a grin. “Sure is.”
I stared at him expectantly, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, holding out his hand, palm up.
Shaking my head, equally annoyed and impressed, I dug my wallet out of my back pocket.
Lofton leaned forward from the back seat, having already pulled her ID from her purse, and passed it out the window. She met my eyes in the mirror and shrugged, vaguely amused.
After the week she’d had, vaguely amused was a massive victory.
We waited as Chris ran both of our IDs through a scanner and then walked a slow, deliberate circle around the vehicle. With the windows down, the spring air carried the faint smell of grass and dirt. Somewhere beyond the trees, birds chattered like they were arguing.
God, it was nice to be out of LA
Chris knocked on the back glass. “Pop it.”
I followed his instructions, and he glanced inside, eyes moving and cataloging. The whole thing took maybe thirty seconds, but I appreciated every single one of them. Not having to worry about who or what came through that gate would significantly lighten my mental load.
He handed us back our IDs and smirked, “Alright. You two are all clear.”
Lofton leaned her elbows on the center console and aimed a breathtaking smile out the window. “I really appreciate you coming out of retirement for me. Please come to dinner tonight. I’m not sure what we’re having or what time yet, but I can get back to you on that.”
He dipped his chin. “You don’t have to do all that, ma’am. Happy to help.”
“Don’t be silly, I insist…” She paused, her eyes flaring wide.
“I mean, if you don’t already have plans, or…
I guess you don’t actually have to come at all.
I could always bring you a plate. Totally up to you.
There’s just not much to do in Dollton, so I figured dinner would be nice.
But I’d be happy to recommend somewhere if you’d rather go out to eat yourself. I’d be happy to buy your dinner.”
I arched a brow as I peered back at her. Her mouth moved a mile a minute as she nervously prattled on. Word vomit was an interesting change of pace from her.
To his credit, Chris stood there, a grin on his face, but his eyes never stopped scanning the periphery. Yep, competency was officially back. Thank Christ.
Lofton drew in a deep breath as she continued. “It’s the least I could do. No pressure to come…or not come. Neither is a requirement for your employment. As Devon always says, You are here to work. Not to make friends. So honestly, whatever you decide is fine with me.”
Chris’s gaze narrowed as he slid it back to the car. Though it didn’t land on Lofton. “Devon says that to you, huh?” he asked, with a whole lot of pissed-off energy aimed directly at me.
I clenched my teeth. “I didn’t say it like that.”
It was bullshit. I had said it exactly like that, and had she invited me to dinner that night, even knowing good and damn well I was going to have to be on duty, I would have told her the same damn thing again. But I sure as hell didn’t need that getting back to Leo.
“Shit,” Lofton breathed, clearly reading the exchange. “Should I not have said that?”
“It’s fine,” I replied to her while holding Chris’s gaze. I lowered my voice before repeating to him, “It’s fine.”
He nodded, wholly unconvinced. “It better be.” His grin returned, and he lifted it to Lofton. “Dinner sounds great, but I don’t get off until seven. Rain check?”
“Absolutely,” Lofton replied. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You too.” He walked backward into the guard station, his glare locked on me until the gate slid open with a low mechanical hum.
“Jesus,” I muttered, rolling up the window as I pulled through.
“I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?” she asked.
“No.”
“Is he your boss?”
“Also, no.”
“He seems nice. How long have y’all worked together?”
My lips twitched. I hadn’t heard even a hint of a southern accent from her while we’d been in LA. A few hours in Tennessee and she was already reclaiming the vocabulary. Even I had to admit it was cute.
Not that I said that or anything. That would have been highly, highly unprofessional.
“We don’t work together.”
She sighed and then dropped her voice to a low, mocking tone.
“He’s a great guy, Lofton. I’ve known him for a hundred years.
Don’t feel bad about dragging him out of retirement.
Also, he likes whiskey and is a huge fan of lasagna.
Thank you for respecting my boundaries and only asking about work.
” She exaggerated a giggle and then answered herself.
“No problem, Devon. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so I figured a little conversation might help with all the silence. ”
Perplexed, I flicked my gaze to her in the rearview mirror. “Is everything okay?”
“Yep.” She popped the p and then smiled, all wild eyes and crazy.
What in the actual fuck was going on with her?
Pretending to wave at Chris before the gate fully closed behind us, I turned in my seat and found her hands tangling in her lap and her knee bouncing at a marathon pace.
I eyed her with suspicion. “You nervous? Got a bad feeling?”
Her lids fluttered shut for a beat, her shoulders sagging when they flipped open. “No. Sorry. I’m just a little antsy. Ready to be home, that’s all.”
I wasn’t buying it. Though it wasn’t my place to pry either, so I just kept driving.
The paved driveway beyond the gate was long and manicured. Tall trees arched overhead, their branches thick, filtering the sunlight through in patches. Pristine white fences lined both sides, nothing but green pastures beyond them.
It was exactly what I expected a celebrity’s family estate to look like.
Though everything changed when we reached the top of a hill.
As the hill dipped, the driveway immediately turned to cracked concrete, potholes filled with muddy water from the last rain.
The white fence was now old natural wood, warped by weather. The fence posts leaned at odd angles—still standing, but clearly on borrowed time.