Chapter 2
TWO
These two-hour-long briefingand strategy sessions were the bane of his existence. Tank could feel himself getting jittery, desperate to get out of this getting-smaller-every-minute conference room.
But Black Tower Security didn”t leave anything to chance. Every contingency was explored, every escape route, every possible player considered. It paid off, of course. No one was as good as Black Tower when it came to personal security.
In the ten years since Ross McClain and Flint Raven had started the small firm, BTS had become a major player in the security industry. When the former CEO of one of the largest security tech firms moved into the tactical sector, people were bound to pay attention.
Absently, he checked his phone. The only people who usually texted him were in this room. With one notable exception. But there was no message from Kaylie on his phone. He tapped out a quick message.
Tank: I’m not home yet. What’s for dinner?
He scolded himself for reaching out the moment the message was sent. She was his housekeeper, nothing more. It had been months since he’d even seen her in person. But the little updates she sent him were just enough to keep her constantly on the edge of his awareness. That and the way his house somehow always smelled like her after she’d been there. Flowers and lemon.
With a barely restrained growl of frustration, he turned his attention back to the table. Most of the BTS team was gathered. This job was all-hands-on-deck.
Ryder McClain, the team lead and brother to co-founder Ross McClain, was running the meeting. ”And that brings us to the final stage. Delivery. We”ve got three armored SUVs, aerial support, and motorcycle escorts from our friends at the Virginia State Patrol.”
”Overkill much?” Jackson Kelley asked with raised eyebrows.
Tank was tempted to agree, though he was never as quick to speak as Jackson. The man had no filter. Tank had learned long ago that silence was almost as powerful a weapon as his size. At 6”6” and the body of an NFL linebacker, people tended to assume he was stupid. And since his default expression wasn”t exactly friendly, they quickly assumed he was angry.
Ryder quickly corrected him. ”It”s not overkill. It”s misdirection. We”ve got the most expensive piece of modern art headed to the Smithsonian. Two hundred million dollars.”
”In that case, do we think that is enough? Maybe we need an army tank.” There was Jackson again–speaking before thinking.
”Don”t you listen? He said it was misdirection,” Tank said. Jackson”s immediate wide eyes let him know that he”d come across as gruff and angry again. Well, if they ever wanted this meeting to end then they needed to get a move on. ”What”s the plan, Mac?”
”Dolores.” The one-word answer from Ryder was the exact opposite of expected.
“You”ve got to be kidding me,” Jackson groaned.
Tank felt his lips stretch into a half-smile. ”You”ve got guts, Mac. I”ll give you that.” Dolores Pinkman was the receptionist for Black Tower Security. Although, anyone who knew Dolores also knew that receptionist was a dramatic understatement of the former CIA operative’s skills and value.
Ryder”s eyes lit with a spark of excitement. ”Come on. We”ve got armored cars and a police escort... All eyes will be on the motorcade, and Dolores will fly completely under the radar in her gray Civic, with the painting safely tucked away in the trunk.”
”You”ve lost your mind,” Marshall Kelley said, shaking his head. Jackson’s brother was his opposite in many ways. Cool and calculating, with an eye for detail.
”I have to agree,” said Will Gilbert, another lead operative.
Tank wasn”t the least bit surprised that Gilbert and Marshall weren”t on board. Gilbert was as predictable and by-the-book as anyone Tank had ever met.
”What do you think, Tank?”
He shrugged, taking a moment to weigh his words. ”I think Ryder”s right.”
The outbursts of disagreement and cheers from opposing sides quickly rang out. Ryder held up his hand to silence them.
Ryder explained. ”There”s two ways to play this. One, we reinforce the motorcade so heavily that it can actually withstand any attack. That means more outside people involved and even more risk of a breach. Or, we go low-key, with minimal people behind the curtain and a million possibilities on the off-chance that someone figures out that the motorcade is a red herring.”
”Well, I like it.” All eyes turned to find Flint Raven in the back of the room. Their founder could command a room, a skill he’d acquired through years as a billionaire tech CEO and only honed as he added combat skills to his impressive intellect and charisma.
”Fine, but I”m going with Dolores,” Gilbert said firmly.
Ryder shook his head as his eyes scanned the room. ”Nope. Every single one of you are too conspicuous. I”ve already discussed it with her. She goes alone. No one suspects the 60-year-old woman traveling alone.” Ryder clearly already had his mind made up.
“Just give us our assignments so we can go home. It”s almost eight.” Tank didn”t disguise the irritation in his voice this time. This mission was a nice break from the constant hours they’d all been putting in trying to unravel threads within the Syndicate. But that didn’t mean he wanted to be here all night.
Kaylie had been at his house today, which meant he had a real home-cooked meal waiting for him. And he”d been looking forward to it all day. His phone vibrated on the table next to him.
Kaylie: Dinner tonight is chicken pot pie. And I left you meatballs and mashed potatoes for tomorrow night.
His mouth watered at the thought. He’d look forward to it even more if there was someone there to eat it with him, but that was an entirely different problem.
It was probably dangerous how much the woman and her little princess sidekick occupied his mind since the day he”d met them. Before that day, he”d been careful not to meet his housekeeper in person. And since that day, he”d mostly been anticipating the message letting him know she was quitting. Because every other housekeeper had done the same thing. Once they met him, suddenly the job wasn”t so desirable.
Which was why he”d tried so hard not to let Kaylie meet him. If he”d known she was there, he would have turned back around and sat in his car until she left. Except that Cecilia had been the one to greet him at the door. And she hadn”t been scared of him in the least. That was a feeling that Tank would give almost anything to feel again.
When the entire world viewed you as a monster, it was remarkable to find someone who saw you as human. It was exhausting–constantly being given a wide berth in the store or watched with a suspicious gaze while walking down the street, as though everyone was simply waiting for him to grab an innocent bystander and break their limbs.
Cecelia hadn”t hesitated to reach her tiny arms up to him, and when she”d clung to his neck, he”d felt a lightness like never before. At least, not since he was a kid himself. Of course, that had been almost three months ago, and he hadn”t seen Cecelia or her mother again. He”d made sure of that.
Because the last thing he wanted was to scare them away. Even if it meant watching the security system so he knew when they left each day and didn”t accidentally surprise them again. He could tell she needed the job, and he had never been happier with a housekeeper than her. So, he wouldn’t cross any lines. Even if he desperately wanted to.
It would only backfire, anyway. Their first meeting had been a fluke, because everyone was scared of him. That was his superpower. Always had been, ever since he’d suddenly bulked up his lanky pre-teen frame and his father, Mario Olson, had roped him into the fold of the Olson family business.
Yes, that Olson family. Also known as the ringleaders of the Chicago mob.
He’d been raised as a monster, using his size and strength to intimidate and enforce whenever his father needed him to. He’d been so desperate to believe those actions would finally bring his father’s approval. But instead of his father truly looking at him, all it had done was make Tank unable to even look at himself.
Some days, he wasn’t sure this job was all that different. At least here though, he knew he was fighting on the right side. He would gladly use his skills to hunt an assassin or find a kidnapping victim. But he’d never break another kneecap of a struggling father just trying to make ends meet while paying for protection from the neighborhood gangs.
Maybe it was just semantics, though. He was still a monster, and Kaylie and her little princess didn’t need the nightmares he’d bring them.
Tank shook his head to clear the ghosts as the meeting was dismissed and his team stood around him, breaking into clusters of small conversations.
Without a word to anyone, Tank left the sleek meeting room. He took the steps two at a time and tucked his belongings into the steel locker in the lower level before walking across the secure underground garage to his Range Rover.
He sat in the dark interior, letting his eyes adjust. His fingers hovered over the keypad on his phone, wishing he knew how to reply to Kaylie’s message. As though a handful of typed words could push them from this place of employer/employee to something different. Something more.
But that was impossible.
He shoved the phone in the cupholder and started the engine. The house would be empty when he got home tonight. But at least it would smell like flowers and lemon.