Chapter 9
Sean
Lillian doesn’t realize it, but Jeff Pearson is way more dangerous than he appears. A warrior, his eyes dart to the exits whenever he enters a room. His right hand remains free, ready to reach for a weapon. His suit can’t hide the way his knees bend slightly, ready to spring into action.
Arm clamped over Lillian’s waist, I escort her to a waiting Town Car.
A driver hurries around the hood and opens the rear door. “Mr. Clark. Miss Fisher.”
Alert. Brown skin. Chocolate eyes. Black hair. Navy ink peeks beneath the rolled cuff of his white shirt. If he’s a chauffeur, I’m Mother Teresa.
The guy’s eyebrows rise, anticipating my assessment.
Because he matches the description Dante sent earlier, I hold out my hand. “In case the boss didn’t say, I’m Sean. She’s Lillian.”
“Mason Green. Go by Mace. A pleasure to meet you. Dante assigned me to your team.” Grip firm, his gaze doesn’t waver. Despite my reservations, I want to like the guy, so I sit.
Ow. Dammit. Forgot about the stitches, but at least they’re healing.
Dropping behind the wheel, he shifts in his seat to catch my eye. “Where to?”
“Boss’s office.” My hand slips to my holster. If he needs the exact address, he’s an imposter.
“No problem.” With a nod, he pulls into traffic, catching my face in the rearview mirror. “Traffic’s heavy. Might as well relax.”
Relax? Seriously? “Did Dante mention why we need a bodyguard?”
“Above my pay grade, bro.”
I let it sit.
For now.
To ease the awkward silence, Lillian chatters about the beach and weather all the way to the former warehouse. In this section of Williamsburg, double-parked delivery trucks leave only one lane to squeeze through.
After passing a Pepsi truck, our driver flicks on the turn signal, then cranks the wheel. A sharp descent later, Green pulls into one of the more than fifty parking spots in the underground lot.
Ignoring the protests from my injury, I climb from the back seat, outstretch for Lil’s hand, and guide her in those sexy heels to the elevator bay while new guy follows.
When the doors open, we step into a brightly lit space overlooking the Kosciuszko Bridge.
“Whoa.” Eyes widening, Lilly circles. “This place is amazing.”
Almost forgot. She’s never seen this location.
Standing in his office doorway, Dante shakes my right hand, slapping me on the back with his left. “Bro, glad you’re still with us.”
He smiles warmly at my woman before pecking her on the cheek. “Lillian. Nice to see you.”
The smile she gives him is usually reserved for me. If the dude weren’t one of my closest friends, I’d probably have to challenge him to a duel or some such shit.
It could be his piercing blue eyes, full dark beard, or the lighter locks that fall into his face. Whatever, the bastard’s always been irresistible to the opposite sex.
“Hey. No kissing my girl.”
Lil leans into his ear. “Don’t mind him. Jeffy pushed a few buttons and maxed out Sean’s testosterone. We learned nothing because of Mister Neanderthal here.”
Our visitor, who’s been quiet up to now, grunts. “He’s right to be cautious. Pearson’s dangerous.”
Her eyes roll. “Oh perfect, another lifetime member of the caveman club.”
Dante chuckles as he raises his hand. “Guilty.”
“Enough with the coffee klatch. Dante, you wanted to talk. Let’s talk.” My tone might be a bit over the top. My stitches itch. They hurt too. I could use a nap.
My buddy's blue eyes home in on my thigh. “How’s the hole in your leg?”
“I’ll live. Didn’t hit any major arteries. Was that it, Mom? Can I go now?”
Laughing, my boss motions us into his office. “Come in and sit. I want your take on the fertilizer bomb incident.”
For the next hour, we regurgitate the mystery’s details. He asks excellent questions, but nothing new surfaces.
“…And you’re certain she said, ‘nondenominational holiday balls’?”
He can rephrase it all he likes. It doesn’t change what happened.
“She did.” Lilly bobs her chin.
Catching her eye, I nod. “We both heard it.”
New guy types into his phone, scrolls, then frowns. “Google says it’s not a thing.”
“I know.” Lillian stands, fists clenched, about to lose it. “We made it up. That’s what’s so weird. She had to have been in the bar with us, or she followed us.”
“Babe… Chill.” When I grasp her hand, she steps back.
“Don’t tell me to chill. This is your fault. Your… your…” Her hands curve in the air. “Sexual aura sucks in women like… like a black hole of male hormones.”
Okay, now that’s funny.
We all laugh as my girlfriend bows. “Thank you so much. I’ll send you a link to my daily podcast. Subscribe now for a discount.”
No point in continuing. Mason-Mace/new guy drops us back at our apartment.
Buddy, curled up on top of the fridge, blinks once, turns, and goes back to his nap.
Cat logic. If no one is feeding you, ignore them.
Lillian grabs a cola before plopping in a chair. “Does Dante own that whole warehouse?”
My shoulders lift and drop. “I guess. Why?”
“How does he afford it? I mean, I know he does investigative work, but he rescued us in Mexico in a helicopter at a moment’s notice. Now I learn he has a super-secret lair in Queens.”
“One of many,” I add, knowing it will spark her interest.
“No shit. Of how many?”
“Dozens.” I shrug. “He’s hired all the people fired by the current administration. CIA, FBI, NSA, SEALs. You name it…. Gonna share the pop?”
“It’s soda.” She slides it across the table. “Funded by what cash?”
I quench my thirst, then return her soda pop. “Billionaires and corporations mostly.”
“And we’re part of this how?” She shakes her head, like she can’t quite believe it, so I break it down.
“Babe, we do what we do. Follow the money. Others use their skill sets.”
Her eyes widen. “Holy shit. I mean, I’m thrilled there are people out there protecting us, but I had no idea…”