2. What People Know
WHAT PEOPLE KNOW
“Hold the elevator.”
Fletcher’s hand reached out and slapped against the cold metal, preventing the door from shutting as the tall blonde stepped in out of breath.
Figures.
At six forty-five there shouldn’t be that many in the building, least of all the woman trailing floral pastures behind her as if she were a damn rose garden.
His hand released the door, his head nodded to Paris Westerly, then he took a sip of his coffee that he’d poured into his travel mug as he walked out after waking up Ian this morning.
Being summoned by his boss at nine last night to get here for a meeting at seven was never a good thing.
But hell, maybe it’d be a little exciting.
Anything to spice up what he was doing.
“Early start?” he asked. Not that he had a problem with the silence, but the way she was glancing at him said that she might want conversation.
He didn’t think he was that much of a dick. Not like his ex-wife liked to say.
The one who blamed him for her breaking their marriage vows. Something she’d done for years and he’d been too absorbed in his career to even notice.
Or maybe he just didn’t believe she’d cheat on him. More like didn’t want to believe it.
“Yeah. I need a fresh one after yesterday.”
He didn’t want to ask, but her bright blue eyes were staring, one eyebrow lifted and almost urging him to spill the words out before he could stop himself.
“Bad day?” he asked.
Paris blew a breath out, the minty scent carrying in the metal box climbing the floors.
“I’ve had better. But a bellyful of chocolate eased it for me. Not that I was thankful for that last night, but you know, take the good with the bad.”
“I’ll have to remember that if I have a bad day.”
She laughed. The sound sent tingles in nerve endings on his body that had been dead for two years. Since he’d discovered Lorraine had been sleeping around.
He’d kept his fucking promise, said he was going to retire at the end of the year, just letting her know things were on track.
Then weeks later, his world collapsed.
“Do you have bad days? I mean, I feel like your facial expressions never change. No one would know if you were happy, sad, angry, maybe even hungry.”
His eyes roamed over her from head to toe, then back up, not missing one detail from her black pumps that had clicked on the floor as she ran to the elevator, her black pants that were a snug fit to a smoking body full of long limbs and curves in the right places, to her blue sweater that made her eyes pop and brighten his morning.
Not that anyone would ever be privy to those thoughts.
“You’d be surprised what people know about me.”
“Well,” she said, tapping her chin. “You like coffee.”
He held his cup out. “What gave it away?”
“The fact you have one of them with you all the time. I bet there isn’t anything fancy in there.”
“Americano. I’m not a fancy fussy person.”
Because years on the job, black coffee was the easiest thing to get.
That fluffy shit full of cream and sugar was for wusses. Or teens.
Ian normally had one a day. And it wasn’t worth arguing with his kid about it either.
“I’m with you. Though I need cream in my coffee. I’d rather get my calories from food, not drink them.”
“Doesn’t seem to me like you should worry about your calorie intake.”
The damn woman could have been a runway model with the way she was built. She and her twin.
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “You’re not supposed to mention those things to a woman.”
He looked around. “There is no one here but you and me. Not this early. And it’s not like I insulted you, did I?”
Lorraine would have loved if he’d made a comment like that.
And using his ex-wife as a measuring stick was even more pathetic.
“Nope. Just saying, I would have figured with your past, you’d know those things.”
He closed one eye at her. “And what do you know about my past?”
The elevator was still climbing and not moving fast enough for him to get to the top floor. At least Paris would be off before him.
“That you’re ex-FBI,” she whispered.
He let out a laugh. A sound he hadn’t had in so long he was surprised it came out of his mouth. “It’s not a secret.”
“Sorry. Anyway. Commenting on people’s appearance, even as a compliment is a no-no.”
He barely contained the urge to roll his eyes. Just held her stare. “So noted.”
She laughed. That sound again.
He wished she’d stop that so he could figure out what the fuck was going on with him.
“Don’t be so grouchy,” she said. “Unless you’re not a morning person.”
“I’m used to working all hours of the day and night.”
Though his son wasn’t used to getting his ass up this early, but that was the price Ian paid when he asked to come live with him and not move with his mother.
He couldn’t blame the kid, but thought that would have caused another court battle.
That it hadn’t only proved how cold his ex had become.
“That seems to be my life right now. But today is a new day and I’m going to start it with a smile on my face. You should try it sometime.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. The elevator finally stopped. “Your floor.”
“It is. Have a great day, Fletcher.”
“You too,” he said, thankful when the door shut him in alone again.
It climbed to his floor, he got off, swiped his badge to enter the main offices of The Carlisle Group, then again to get past the front desk, that was unoccupied, to get to the executive suite.
He went to his office first since he had a few minutes, dropped off his bag, opened his laptop and finished his coffee.
Paris was wrong. He didn’t drink it all day long, but no one needed to know those silly details of his life, like what he drank.
So he washed out his black travel mug, then filled it with water, looked at his watch, and made his way toward his boss’s office knowing that West was already there.
The door was open, but he still knocked on the frame, West lifting his head. “Hey, Fletcher, come in and shut the door.”
Nothing different there. No worries that he was getting let go.
Shit, the guy personally sought him out and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse a year ago.
His promise to retire after twenty years’ service didn’t need to hold up when his wife walked out. And he needed a job, might as well continue what he was doing until his life could settle down.
But the minute his ex said she was moving and his son refused to go, this job fell into his lap and was too good to pass up.
Over three times his salary and nothing more dangerous than a paper cut in the year he’d been employed. And more time with his son. The last was the most important, even if he was on call nonstop for one of the wealthiest men in New York.
But the dude rarely bothered him unless it was an emergency.
He did as he was instructed, moved to the chair across from West and took a seat.
“What do you need?”
“I’ve got a breach somewhere,” West said. “I’m positive it’s the new driver we’ve got.”
“Skyler?” he asked.
He’d told West the firm he used that vetted out their drivers wasn’t up to his standards, but coming in new, he didn’t want to overstep too much.
Even if that was what he was hired for.
“That’s the one. He’s been employed about eight months.”
“Nine,” he said. It was his job to know this shit.
West grinned. “Nine months. Abby said she heard a noise at our house in the Hamptons. She was getting ready for Samuel’s first birthday this weekend. Two nights she looked up and saw a drone flying overhead.”
He sighed. “I hate those fuckers.”
West grinned. “Me too. They are getting more intrusive. But for the most part, we are left alone. I thought maybe it was someone checking out all the homes in the area. It happens.”
“More than it should.”
“Last night I got an email sent to me as a heads up Abby was going to be in pictures in a tabloid. The press is aware my son turns one tomorrow.”
“I remember that day,” he said, thinking of Ian’s first birthday.
“Best day of my life when Sam was born. I don’t even want to think of him at sixteen. Not if this is the shit I’ve got to deal with.”
“Comes with the territory.”
“We’ll work on more security there too. Foster has some ideas.”
“I do too,” he said. Because he couldn’t believe how boring this job was compared to what he’d done so he was always looking at things he could improve.
Shit, that was what he was paid for.
But again, waiting for the right time to bring that up.
“Good. You and Foster can talk. But for now, someone knows whose house it is and when Abby is there or not. That means someone would have to let them know. Foster went back through security footage. Seems as if it’s not the first time a drone has been there... only when we are there.”
“Got it. I’ll talk with Foster and see if he could get close enough to see the make and model of the drone.”
“Braylon is working on who sold the pictures. We’ll take care of that from our end. We just need to know how this person found out before we get to him.”
“I’ll look into Skyler more and have a talk with him. Do you want him terminated today?”
“Not yet. Not until I know more. No reason to cut off someone’s livelihood without facts.”
Which he could appreciate about the guy in front of him. Most others would just clean house and start fresh.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“I’m good,” West said.
Fletcher stood up and went back to his office, opened his laptop and started digging.
It didn’t take long to find out Skyler Monroe was in debt up to his ears. Liked to bet on anything from horses, to sports, to who was going to be the first one drunk in a bar and tossed out.
Not even two hours’ worth of work for him. Big time investigating skills at play.
He pushed back from his desk, found out that Skyler was in the garage office just waiting for someone to need him. Looked like Fletcher was the guy.
The elevator ride back down this time had more people in it and no one chatting his ear off either. Seemed the more crowded it was, the less noisy people tended to be.
When he got to the garage, he made his way to the office, the TV blaring ESPN, the sports ticker on the bottom, Skyler on the phone and his feet on the desk.
The minute the young guy saw the Head of Security standing there, he said, “Hey, I’ll get back to you. Got to go somewhere. Hi, Fletcher. Let me start the car.”
“Nope. Just need to chat.”
“Chat?” Skyler asked.
“Yep.” He moved in and shut the door, found the remote on the desk and clicked the TV off. “Seems like some pictures of Abby are floating around with a tabloid.”
“Huh?” Skyler asked. “I don’t know anything about that. Why would you think I would?”
“Sounds defensive to me. I didn’t ask you that. Just made a statement.”
The kid was squirming now. “Well, I figured if you’re down here to talk, it’s not because you’re bored.”
If the kid only knew. But it wasn’t as if Fletcher would hang with the driver in front of him.
“Nope.” He walked around the desk, pushing papers, noticed all the notes scribbled down. Odds, bets, money. “That one had to hurt.” He tapped a piece of paper. “They lost bad last night.”
Skyler’s face turned crimson. “What are you talking about?”
“Are we really going to play that game? I’ve got time. It works for me.”
“So I like to make some bets. There is no crime in it. It’s legal. And I got off the phone when you came in. I do whenever I’m called.”
“You do come when you’re called. Do a good job driving everyone around too.”
“That’s right,” Skyler argued. “I’m good at my job.”
“You are. But you see, you’ve got a little problem and your little problem is now my problem. I enjoy solving problems. Especially when they are easy.”
“What problem is that?”
“That you and I both know you’re being paid by someone to pass on when Abby and West are in the Hamptons. Or where they are going in general.”
Because he was betting it wasn’t just the Hamptons or it wouldn’t be for long if this wasn’t nipped right now.
“There is no proof of that. And why would I do that?”
Funny how he started with no proof before he denied the allegation.
“You’d do it for money,” he said. “Like the thousand that was deposited in your account last week.”
“What are you doing looking into my accounts?”
“My job.” He put his hand out. “Hand over your phone.”
“You can’t do that,” Skyler said, picking it up and clutching it to his chest like a lifeline.
“Actually, I can. It’s all part of the confidentiality paperwork you signed when you were hired. Why you’re paid more to be a driver for The Carlisle Group than other businesses. Any personal electronics can be requested for view at any time.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“We can take a quick trip up to HR if you’d like. Or better yet, I’ve got a copy on my phone with your signature on the bottom. Would you like to read it?” He pulled his phone out, hit a few buttons, then Skyler’s phone beeped.
Skyler pulled it away, read what was in front of him and paled. Maybe he included the section about lawsuits if found in breach of his contract. Just for fun.
Watching someone squirm used to be a pastime of his at his last job.
Skyler was still looking at him. Fletcher wasn’t flinching. He could stand here all day and not move a muscle.
It’s not like he had anything pressing going on.
“It was one person,” Skyler said after a minute. “It’s a friend. They aren’t going to hurt anyone. Just wanted some pictures. Someone I know.”
“Just one is enough. Clean your shit out.”
He stood there while Skyler grabbed whatever personal items he had. “That’s it? I’m just being fired. No lawsuit?”
“That’s up to West, not me. Let’s go.”
He escorted Skyler out of the building, got his keycard, but didn’t need it since he’d already had Skyler’s access revoked before he started talking to the kid.
When he landed back on the top floor, he made his way to West’s office. “Hi, Fletcher,” Vanessa said. “West is in with Braylon right now. Do you need me to interrupt him?”
“If you want, just tell him everything is taken care of. I’ll come back.”
“Nope,” Vanessa said. “He’ll want to know.” She picked the phone up and buzzed their boss, then he opened the door and walked in.
“Well,” Braylon asked, grinning. “How fast did Skyler confess?”
Fletcher looked at his watch. “In and out in ten minutes. That counted walking him out of the building.”
“Lunch is on you, West. I said fifteen, you said thirty.”
What the fuck? “You were betting on this?”
“Hey, got to have some fun with it,” Braylon said. “And now it’s done. The pictures won’t be published either.”
“And what do you have on someone for that to be wiped out?” he asked.
“Don’t you worry about that,” Braylon said. “You do things your way, I do them mine.”
He shook his head and went back to his office, hoping not to die of boredom the rest of the day.