Chapter 6
Tate
The bullpen at Noble and Associates was quiet for a late Wednesday morning—just the hum of computers and the occasional clatter of a keyboard. I leaned back in my chair, scrolling through lines of code on my monitor, hunting for vulnerabilities in a client’s network system.
“You look like shit.”
I didn’t bother glancing up at my co-worker. “Thanks, Ford. Always a pleasure.”
Ford dropped into the chair beside my desk, spinning it around to straddle it backward.
Even sitting, he took up space. Broad shoulders and arms that strained the sleeves of his white dress shirt, but there was an ease to him that softened all of it, a lazy half-grin that made you forget that he could put a man on the ground in under three seconds.
“Seriously.” He studied me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. “You’ve been a bit on the grumpy side the past week and a half. What’s eating you?”
“Nothing.” I kept my focus on the screen. “Just haven’t been sleeping great.”
“Uh-huh.” Ford didn’t sound convinced. “This have anything to do with that woman Austin mentioned? The one you hooked up with at The Players Club the last time you were there?”
I shot him a look. “Austin needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”
“So there is a woman.” Ford grinned and slapped me on the back. “Shit, Tate. You actually caught feelings for someone?”
“I didn’t catch anything.” I turned back to my code, jaw tight. “It was one night. She left after the scene. End of story.”
The memories surfaced anyway, the way they had every night since. Stella’s soft gasps as she’d fallen apart, more than once. How she’d melted into my arms during those few moments of aftercare, trusting me completely.
And then I’d gone to get her water and something to eat, and she’d vanished like smoke.
I could have found her. It would have been easy enough for me as an expert IT specialist—a few searches after finding out her full name from Melissa and some basic computer legwork.
One evening behind my computer screen and I could have had her address, employment history, probably her favorite coffee order and the name of her childhood pet if she’d had one.
But just because I could track her down didn’t mean I had the right to. Besides, she’d made her choice crystal clear and I was all about respecting a woman’s choices, even if it meant swallowing the sharp edge of rejection and pretending it didn’t cut as deep as it had.
“Whatever you say, man.” Ford stood, clapping me on the shoulder. “But if you want to talk—”
“I don’t.”
He held up his hands to let me know he was backing off, then wandered toward the break room. I stared at my screen without seeing it, willing myself to focus.
That’s when Sutton’s office door opened.
“Tate.” My boss’s terse voice carried across the bullpen. “Got a minute?”
I saved my work and headed over, stepping into his office and closing the door behind me. Sutton was ex-military, with silver threading through his dark hair and a no-nonsense demeanor that commanded respect. He gestured for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Got a new assignment for you,” he said without preamble. “Field work.”
I raised an eyebrow. Tech was my specialty, but we all rotated through protection details to keep our skills sharp. “It’s been a while. What’s the job?”
Sutton slid a file across his desk. “Charles Hayward. Currently a high-profile defense attorney. He used to be a prosecutor and crossed some very powerful people in the past before he switched to defense law about eight years ago. He’s made a lot of enemies and it seems someone has decided to send a message. ”
I flipped open the file, scanning the preliminary report.
“The daughter’s been targeted specifically,” Sutton continued.
“She’s the subject of photos that were sent to Charles Hayward, along with a threatening note.
Parents want her moved back to their estate where we can control the environment better than her apartment building.
You’ll be on her main personal detail while the rest of the team works through the suspect list.”
I glanced up at my boss. “How long is that list?”
“Considering how many men Hayward put away during his previous career as a prosecutor, and anyone who might have a grudge against him now because of someone…unsavory he might have defended, it’s longer than my arm.
We’re in the elimination phase right now, figuring out who’s just noise and who’s a genuine threat. Could take a while.”
I nodded, turning to the brief on the daughter. No formal employment, but apparently she had a significant social media presence. I’d need to look into that and see if anyone had been making contact through those channels.
Then I turned to the photos and my entire body jolted as recognition hit. I took in the familiar silky blonde hair, wide-blue eyes, and that same guileless expression that had captivated me the night we’d met.
Holy fuck. This was my Stella. Well, she wasn’t my anything, I reminded myself. She was a woman I’d spent one incredible night with before she’d disappeared without a word. A woman who’d trusted me with her body and then decided I wasn’t worth sticking around for.
And now someone wanted to hurt her. All the air left my lungs in one sharp inhale as something dark and territorial surged up from a place I usually kept locked down tight. It wasn’t just concern. It wasn’t just professional focus. It was rage that she’d been targeted.
“Tate?” Sutton’s voice cut through the red haze clouding my vision. “Problem?”
I knew I should do the professional thing and tell Sutton I had a personal connection to the client and needed to be reassigned.
But the thought of handing Stella’s safety over to someone else—even my colleagues, men I trusted with my life—was unthinkable.
They didn’t know her. They wouldn’t understand how to handle her, how to make her feel safe the way I could.
Or maybe I was just making excuses because the idea of anyone else protecting her made me want to put my fist through a wall. Regardless, I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
“No problem,” I heard myself say instead. “When do I start?”
“Now. The family’s expecting you. Swing by your place and pick up an overnight bag since you’ll be staying at their residence. Address is in the file.”
With a nod, I left Sutton’s office, my mind already running through security protocols and threat assessments.
The professional part of my brain knew exactly what needed to be done.
The rest of me was still stuck on the fact that someone out there wanted to use Stella as a pawn, and she had no idea what was coming.
She’d left me without a word that night at The Players Club. Fine. I’d made my peace with that, but nobody was going to hurt her. Not on my watch. Whatever happened between us personally didn’t matter. Keeping her safe was the only thing that did.
I just had to keep reminding myself of that.
* * *
The Hayward estate was located in the upscale area of Summerlin and sat behind eight feet of ivy-covered stone wall, the kind of old-money barrier that screamed keep out while still trying to look picturesque.
I pulled up to the iron gate and noted the cameras—two flanking the entrance, positioned to capture every vehicle that passed through.
The grounds beyond were immaculate. Manicured lawns stretched toward a house that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread.
The massive structure was all beige stucco and stone exterior desert motif, with a large courtyard and water fountain in the front.
The isolation of the house, the existing security, and the high wall with the gate were all solid protection against anyone trying to get inside.
It would certainly be easier to conduct surveillance here rather than on a busy street watching an apartment building.
I parked, and leaving my overnight bag in my vehicle for now, I approached the front door, noting another camera aimed there, too.
The door had one of those ostentatious ring knockers, but I opted for the doorbell.
A chiming melody echoed through the house, loud enough that I could hear it from outside.
The door swung open to reveal a man who could only be Charles Hayward. Silver haired and wearing a tailored, designer suit, his sharp eyes assessed me in a single sweep.
“Mr. Hayward?” He gave a nod, and I handed over my company ID and driver’s license. “I’m Tate Holland, security from Noble and Associates assigned to protect your daughter. I was told you were expecting me.”
“Yes, I am.” He examined both cards and handed them back before stepping aside. “Come in.”
The foyer was exactly what I’d expected—soaring ceilings, polished marble floors, two sweeping staircases that seemed to lead to separate wings of the house, and a chandelier dripping with crystal that probably required its own cleaning staff.
I could easily imagine the parties held here.
From other details I’d read in the report, Charles’s wife, Celeste, was quite the socialite and attended a lot of functions.
Undoubtedly she’d require her own security during those larger events.
“I want to be clear about something from the outset, Mr. Holland,” Charles said as he led me down a wide hallway and deeper into the house.
“My daughter isn’t happy about being moved back home for her protection.
Stella is quite…” he paused, choosing his words.
“Independent. Stubborn, frankly. She sees it as an imposition.”
“I understand,” I said, keeping my tone professional, though this independent, stubborn side to Stella intrigued me. “I’ll do my best to keep her safe while respecting her space.”