12. Pushing It
PUSHING IT
“I’ll be late tonight,” Fletcher said on Saturday. “Sorry about this.”
“What are you sorry about?” Ian asked. “You’ve got to work.”
His son had just walked into his bedroom as he was getting dressed for the night. Pizza had been delivered, but he wouldn’t be sharing it like he’d hoped.
Not after Paris’s delivery on Wednesday afternoon.
No leads. Nothing.
He got the courier on camera, could trace him through facial recognition. But he was only someone who was paid to deliver a package.
No name given. He’d picked the package up at the back door of a restaurant in Chinatown, and no one there was talking.
All they had was the note: Stop looking.
It made little sense other than it could be tied back to MHT Services or Rick. Rick seemed unlikely since he looked to be starting a new job next week. There’d be no reason for him to do something like this when he hadn’t been around the building since that one day.
Fletcher had been watching. Had Rick’s picture in the security system to alert him if he even walked into the lobby.
“I know,” he said. It was the first he was being called on over the weekend.
He put his shoulder holster on over his white dress shirt, then went to his safe and pulled his Glock 19M out and slipped it in, the weight of it feeling safe and comfortable. Like another extremity that had been missing from his life lately.
It’d been there for so long and still felt odd to be gone, but he didn’t always wear a suit in the office.
Now he was. And Ian hadn’t asked once what was going on.
Until now.
“Why are you changing up guns at work? And then going out tonight? Is there a threat against the owners or something?”
“No,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“A charity event.”
He hated this shit, but had been to enough functions in his career. He knew how to mingle and how to fit in.
Not to be a guest at a two thousand dollar a ticket dinner.
But his boss wanted him close to Paris until they had more information.
So that meant a driver picked her up at her apartment and brought her to work, then brought her home. If she had to be somewhere during the day, the same thing. If a driver wasn’t available, Fletcher was to do it directly.
Hadn’t happened yet, but he expected it might.
But being told he had to be her “date” tonight. Yeah, that was pushing it.
Because maybe there was a part of him that wished it wasn’t work related. That he wasn’t here to protect her but could just play with her some.
Tease her like she’d been doing to him. Or what felt like it when they saw each other.
Though the last time there was no teasing. There was no getting on the other’s nerves.
What he saw was fear laced with frustration over what was happening. And what it was all going to mean.
The changes she’d have to make in her life.
With London out of town and not able to attend, Paris couldn’t be alone.
“Oh, so you have to mingle more than protect someone.”
“I’ll be doing both,” he said.
“You said the owner isn’t in trouble.”
“He’s not. It’s someone else who works for him.”
“Really? He has security for his employees?”
“Ian,” he warned.
“I know. I’m not supposed to ask, but it’s not like it’s top secret is it? Maybe I’m just worried. It isn’t like you’ve got partners like before.”
He didn’t want his son feeling that way.
“No. I’m alone and I’m fine. This isn’t anything like my last job.”
But it was still more than he’d been doing.
Some more action and a little more excitement.
He shouldn’t feel some happiness over that. Not when it put someone in harm’s way.
But right now, they knew nothing other than someone was trying to scare Paris.
He’d spent the better part of the last two days looking into every client she’d had since they’d opened their firm.
So far, nothing.
“But you’re still protecting someone. You just said it.”
“If you must know, West has a cousin who is affiliated with his business. There have been some loose threats that have been traumatic. No one wants her to go alone.”
“It’s a woman. Is she young? Hot? What’s her name?”
“Out,” he said.
As much as he enjoyed Ian being more open with him, he wasn’t in the mood for that line of questioning. Not when it hit too close to his personal thoughts.
He’d been thrilled that they seemed to have bridged some father son hate gap, but he wasn’t about to talk about this situation.
“Fine,” Ian said. “But the fact you wouldn’t even say no to any of those questions tells me she’s probably hot and single.”
“Lock up when I leave,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Stefan is going to come down.”
“You’re just telling me this now?”
“Sorry. He texted me when you were in the shower. I didn’t think you’d mind since I was alone. Can he just stay the night?”
“He’s on the thirteenth floor, right?” he asked. So far his kid let him know the names of his friends.
“Yep. Stefan Roman. I told you about him. You met him in the gym the one night.”
“Okay. He can stay. I should be back before midnight.”
“We’ve got pizza and snacks and are just going to play video games.”
He sat on the bed to put his shoes on, then stood and slipped his suit jacket on.
“Have fun.”
“You’re not going to shave?” Ian asked.
His steps faltered. “What?”
“Chicks like a trim beard.”
“I trimmed it two days ago.”
He didn’t need to do it daily. Hell, half the time he didn’t want to do it at all.
He didn’t miss shaving daily, that was for sure, but his facial hair didn’t grow that fast and thankfully there wasn’t any white in it.
Not like there were touches of it on the sides of his head.
The minute he had a gray beard, it was gone.
“Just saying,” Ian said.
He wasn’t going to take the word of a sixteen-year-old who didn’t even have a girlfriend.
Or not that he knew of.
“Bye,” he said, walking past his son, then out the door.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, checked to see if their driver was here for him, then got in the elevator and was out the door. The back door of the black sedan was being held for him.
He was still getting used to this shit.
“We’re going to get Paris now?” Marcus asked.
“We are.”
“Thanks again for getting me this job,” Marcus said. “This is the best retirement gig going.”
He’d rather be riding shotgun with the recently retired NYPD patrol officer, but it was what it was.
West had one sedan, one SUV. Marcus actually got to take the Mercedes home with him on the weekends to be on call rather than their other driver who would pick up the SUV.
Since Colin lived two blocks over and had no place to store the car, he walked over to get it when needed or was called after hours.
“I’m glad you were willing. Didn’t think Billy had that many connections, but when he brought it up a few weeks ago, I thought why not.”
Billy was a detective he’d worked with when he was at the bureau.
It never hurts to have more than one person on the payroll with connections in this area. That was how West worked and it’s what he was going to continue to do.
Marcus also had some contacts, and he’d keep that in his pocket to call on if needed.
While Marcus was driving, Fletcher texted Paris to say they were five minutes out.
Her reply was quick that she was in the lobby and waiting.
“Just pull in front. Paris is ready,” he said.
When Marcus came to a stop, Fletcher got out before the driver, kept the back door open and made sure he didn’t let his mouth hang open when she strutted out in her black dress.
Short sleeve, but off the shoulder, fitted to her waist, her hips, straight to the floor with a long slit that her leg kept popping out of as she walked.
Her blonde hair was straight, sleek, shiny, a side part and tucked behind one ear.
There was a black clutch in her hand, black heeled sandals on her feet.
“You’re a doorman now?” she asked.
“Get in,” he said. “I’m not any happier about this than you.”
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. You’re doing your job.”
“I am. You can make it difficult or we can try to get along. Either way, I’ll be here to watch out for you and keep you safe.”
“From dead rats?” she asked, smiling and sliding into the backseat.
He climbed in next to her. “I’d like it to end with dead rats if it’s all the same to you.”
Once Marcus pulled away from the curb, he turned to look at Paris. Marcus wouldn’t say a word. He knew what was going on and having a driver with Marcus’s background was another form of protection.
One that Paris didn’t know about nor need to right yet.
West, on the other hand, was thrilled and interested in having another driver on in the same capacity. He had his ear to the ground for that.
“I’m sure it’s someone playing a prank.”
“A poor one at that.”
She sighed. “Yeah. I shouldn’t be on edge.”
“There is no need to be. I won’t leave your side.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m on edge,” she mumbled.
He wanted to ask what she meant but knew there were some things that were best left unsaid.
Marcus pulled in front of the venue, got out and opened the door for him, then he stood there while Paris got out next and slid her arm through his.
The whole “they were on a date” thing was her idea.
She refused to let anyone think she needed protection.
West didn’t care how it was done, as long as it was.
And it didn’t seem as if Fletcher had much of a choice.
“Relax,” he whispered in her ear, felt her shiver and grinned. “If we are supposed to be dating, no one is going to believe it if you’re tense.”
She squared her shoulders. “At least we match.”
“It was black tie,” he said. “Kind of hard not to match when we’ve got to wear black.”
“You’re not wearing a tie,” she pointed out.
“Nope. Maybe they will turn us away and we won’t have to go in.”
He’d be back at his house after he deposited her ass home and checked her place before she went in and he could grab a slice of pizza with his son and his friend.
“I highly doubt that,” she said. “And Nelson will be here with Kenzie, so it’s not as if you won’t know anyone. He’s coming with Laken and Jamie with Jamie’s driver.”
“I’m aware,” he said.
“Ah, that’s right. You know it all.”
“Remember that.” He slipped his arm around her waist. Just for the hell of it.
Needed to make it more convincing.
“You’re really taking this to heart, aren’t you?”
“It was your idea, not mine.”
“I don’t know why I couldn’t just come alone since I’d be here with other family.”
They were talking low, their eyes locked, smiles on their faces.
Anyone looking at them as they walked into the lobby of the hotel might think they were having an intimate conversation.
“Take it up with West.”
“No, thank you,” she said.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I need a drink. To the bar.”
“You’re not going to get drunk, are you?”
That might be a whole different problem he’d have to deal with.
“I don’t get drunk. I just want a glass of wine. Are you going to join me or aren’t you allowed to when you’re on the clock?”
“I’m allowed.”
They got to the bar, the bartender came over and took her order and he got a beer that he’d nurse all night.
He threw cash on the bar while they waited. People were moving in closer and pushing her a little off balance.
His hand went to steady her, him draping his arm over her shoulder.
She turned to look into his eyes. They held each other’s stare, then she smirked.
Like she was ready to play. To turn this into a game when it was anything but.
Maybe he shouldn’t have taunted her. But he didn’t like seeing her scared. Nervous. Uneasy.
She wasn’t so good at hiding it and if her mind was on him, whether in frustration or fun, it was better than the alternative.
Her arm slid around his side, her fingers slowly dragging across his waist, his back, and it reminded him how long it’d been since a woman had touched him.
Then she stilled, her eyes slightly wide.
He leaned down as if he was going to kiss her cheek but got close to her ear. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re wearing a gun.”
He laughed, felt her shiver and said, “I never leave home without it.”
She hesitated the briefest second before she said, “Guess you’re a regular old Boy Scout.”
Before he could stop himself the words slipped out, “Is that something you’re hoping to find out?”