CHAPTER THREE
DECLAN
I climb out of the yellow cab and stare up at the skyscraper until my neck hurts. Stella Voss’ penthouse is right at the top.
I bet the view is insane.
I spent the rest of the day at the New York BHS office getting inducted into the systems, meeting people, and preparing to hit the ground running tomorrow.
Which is why tonight I’m meeting Stella.
I will replace her current security tomorrow morning.
I truly thought I’d be protecting some boring dignitary or businessman. A twenty-five-year-old author with a trust fund who writes books was not on my bingo card.
She’s not famous for her writing, so is clearly living off her trust fund. The multimillion-dollar penthouse she lives in is paid for with Daddy’s money.
I’ve created a profile in my head about who she is: spoiled, hot, knows it, and is an asshole to deal with.
Hopefully, it’s a short-term assignment.
I glance around the high rises and draw in a breath. Being in New York City is an adjustment. I’ve spent the past fifteen years on naval bases here and around the world.
I’m wary and interested to see if I can make this work.
Mom’s comments that I will hate it and should have stayed in the Navy irked me a bunch.
I need to show her that life can continue without Dad. That we can be happy. That she can move on and maybe remarry.
She’s made him this huge magical figure in her head and tried to do the same for me. If it weren’t for the Navy and dealing with real-life shit, it might have worked.
It did enough.
Wearing the shirt and blazer I landed on because it looks more the part, I tug at my collar and head inside the building.
Lifting my sunglasses, I remind myself that failure is not an option here. I have to make this job work.
Leaving the SEAL team was a huge decision, especially when your father died in action and is known as one of the greats. I don’t know if it’s me or everyone else—or both—who put the expectation on me to compete with his legend.
But I have.
Dad died as a Commander, fighting to defend the United States of America. Stepping away to protect rich folks isn’t exactly heroic.
Yet I knew I couldn’t serve for much longer. I’m thirty-six, my body has been thrashed, and the shit I’ve seen and done is going to take a dozen lifetimes to work through. A lot of my buddies have turned to things like DMT to deal with it. I don’t judge. People need to choose what works for them.
I’ve seen a shrink once or twice and going back to the memories doesn’t seem to help.
What we identified was that I needed to leave and find something I could enjoy while letting my brain and nervous system relax.
As the doc said, I can’t be in fight mode preparing to fight forever. I’ll pay the price, eventually.
I wasn’t prepared to prove her wrong.
Striding through the lobby, I feel like Denzel Washington or Kevin fucking Costner in some bodyguard movie, like I’m playing a part. Still, I’m armed and carrying a satchel with all the tech I need to do the job.
It’s time to meet Ms. Voss.
I announce my arrival at the building security desk.
They’re expecting me.
Gary—I get the name from his badge—directs me to the private elevator, which will take me up to Ms. Voss’ penthouse. When the doors open, I enter the code she shared with BHS, and it’s accepted. As the car starts to move, I widen my stance and clasp my hands in front of me.
It’s a long, smooth ride to the top.
Ping.
During the split seconds before the doors open, I revisit everything I was told about her.
Stella Voss.
Twenty-five. Daughter of notorious businessman Victor Voss.
She’s hired Black Hawke Security to act as personal independent security for her while she transitions to married life with Tony Marino. A marriage arranged by her family.
As the photos flashed up on my tablet when Josh shared them, I found myself flinching.
Not once, but twice.
First, she’s hot, and I had to acknowledge that. Second, the man she’s marrying has to be twice her age. He’s also on the FBI's radar due to links with several crime families.
If I had a sister, I wouldn’t let her near him.
“Jesus,” I’d said out loud, unable to keep my thoughts to myself. “Why do I get the feeling she didn’t swipe right?”
Aidan and Josh shared a look.
“Not my business, obviously,” I’d added.
“He’s rich and powerful. I don’t understand the decisions some women make.” Josh shook his head. “This recommendation came via Barrett Security. Connor Barrett’s company. You may remember he married Mia Mancini from the Mancini crime family, who were wiped out.”
“The wedding massacre?”
“That’s the one.” Aidan nodded.
“To protect his wife and family, he doesn’t take on any clientele where there’s even a hint of a link to the mob,” Josh shared.
I don’t blame him.
“So what? I’m going to be dealing with the mafia?”
“Marino has links. He’s not a Don. There’s been no evidence as far as law enforcement can prove, but safe to say he socializes with some dangerous people.”
“Hence Ms. Voss wanting her own security.” I slowly shook my head.
What is she thinking?
Josh nodded and leaned back in his chair. “We have offered her a three-month contract instead of our standard twelve months, as she wasn’t sure how her future husband would feel about her having her own independent security.”
My brows lifted in response as I stared down at the two photos. “Here I was thinking this job would be a walk in the park.”
Josh snorted. “Be prepared for anything. Now you’re on board, Ryder can share a few stories from our cases back in LA.”
“Oh, you mean like that rock star's daughter who—” Ryder began.
“Funny guy,” Josh interrupted and shot him a warning glance while Ryder laughed. “He’s referring to Cassy, my wife.”
I was familiar with their story. Cassy’s stalker from her teenage years escaped from prison and traveled across multiple states to kidnap her. Because of her celebrity father, the media followed the story closely.
I glanced around the table.
“Shit, guess this gig could be a lot more action packed than I expected.”
I hoped not. For my client’s sake.
The elevator doors open fully, and I lift my head.
Before me stands a slim, five-foot-six brunette. She’s even more gorgeous in real life, and I can’t help but think she looks remarkably like a mafia princess with her olive skin and sleek, dark, wavy hair.
“Stella Voss.” She holds out her hand confidently as I step out of the elevator.
“Declan Sloan.”
The moment our hands connect, a bolt of electricity slams through my body. When her eyes widen, I know she felt it, too.
Damn.
I can’t believe my job is to protect this beautiful woman while I stand back and watch her marry a monster.