3. Jaime
Chapter 3
Jaime
May
I t’s dark when Wolf pulls up behind me. He climbs out of his SUV, dark eyes meeting mine. “Hey, sorry I’m late. You ready?”
“I’m always ready.” I aim the key fob at my ride, locking it as we start down the sidewalk. “And you’re always late.”
“I know,” he says. “You know how Analisse gets.”
I do, but his relationship drama is a shit excuse. And a tired one. It also reinforces my choice to stay single; less drama means less distractions.
Quartz Quartz ten, maybe fifteen minutes tops. Unfamiliar with the area, I’m extra careful as I ascend the winding roads of the Berkeley Hills. It’s a clear morning though, and I spy the San Francisco skyline across the shimmering bay as first light hits.
The curving streets are lined lushly with trees. Most of the properties are set back from the road, but the houses I can see vary from old-school Craftsman bungalows to large, elegant homes. Callum’s house sits on a gated lot, where the houses are pretty spread out. I pull up to the gate and press the call button, glancing at the small camera. I’m guessing he has decent security up here. If he doesn’t, I’ll make sure to fix it up for him.
Seconds later, the large, black gates swing open, and I pull up to a multi-story, modern-looking house built into the hill, all clean lines and large windows. Parking in the brick driveway, I get out and walk the succulent-lined path leading to the front door. I ring the doorbell, looking around the property as I wait.
The door opens. “Jaime.” Callum, looking a little worse for wear in a hoodie and sweats, motions me inside. The shallow gash he sustained from that piece of glass last night looks angry and red, but not infected. “Thanks for coming so early.”
“Sure,” I say, brushing by. “Nice place.”
He grunts, nodding.
Sliding my hands into the pockets of my joggers, I follow him into the living room. The expensive, minimalist décor is offset by an enormous TV—it must be at least 100 inches—and a gaming system I would’ve given my left arm for as a teenager. “How’d things go after we left last night? You figure out who the shooters were?”
Callum rubs his hand over the stubble on his chin. His dark eyes are bloodshot, and his nose is red, like he’s either high or has some serious allergies. “Still following the trail of breadcrumbs, but probably some fuckers with a vendetta,” he says with a grim smile. “You know how it goes.”
“Pretty serious vendetta,” I say.
“Yeah, well, the game’s not for the faint of heart,” Callum responds, sinking onto a sleek, leather couch. His eyes meet mine, steady despite their tiredness, as he gestures for me to take a seat. “Some people think I need to stay in my lane, but that’s not your problem.”
It is if I’m going to be associated with him, but I let his words slide. “Talk to me about your girl. What exactly does the job entail?”
“Maeve needs a bodyguard.” He closes his eyes, exhaling. “All the time, but especially when I’m not around, which is a lot. She doesn’t really want one, but it’s not up to her. Not after what happened last week.”
“And what was that, exactly?”
“Uncle Dario told me he talked to Cedro about this,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
“He did, but I want to hear it from you,” I say evenly. “I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
“She was coming home from the store in my car one night, and some fucker coming the other way got in her lane. She barely swerved in time, almost went off the cliff.”
I pause, thinking of the road I took to get here. It’s narrow in some places, with turns that are so tight they’d qualify as switchback. It’s dangerous just by default. “You think it was intentional?”
“I know it was,” he snaps. “They obviously saw my car and thought it was me driving.”
“Sounds like you need a bodyguard then, too.”
“I have Griff,” he says. “But I need someone I can trust with Maeve. She doesn’t know this, but a couple days after the incident I got a text from some random number. It was a picture of her leaving physical therapy.”
“Just a picture? It didn’t say anything?”
“Didn’t have to.” Callum shakes his head. “The message came through loud and clear.”
“Why’s she in physical therapy?” I ask, caught on that detail.
“She was,” he corrects. “Not anymore. She fucked up her ankle in a ballet class. Hasn’t been the same since.”
She hasn’t been the same, or her ankle?
“Anyway, her car’s in the shop, which is why she was driving mine,” he explains. “She’s not getting hers back, though. It’s a piece of shit and I don’t want her driving around by herself anyway.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“She doesn’t like this arrangement,” he warns. “She’s got a mind of her own … doesn’t like being told what to do.”
I nod, giving a slight shrug. Who does?
“You’re not the first driver she’s had,” he says with a sigh. “The other guy didn’t work out. She said he gave her the creeps.” Callum looks back at me, the half-smile curving his lips at odds with the cold glint in his eyes. “Don’t give her the creeps, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” I say dryly. Maeve isn’t the real reason I’m here, so I don’t plan on interacting with her enough for her to get ‘creeped out.’ But I’ll have to be likable—I can’t keep an eye on Callum’s operations if I get fired because of petty personality clashes.
“Like I said, I travel a lot. And I’m busy even when I’m in town.” Standing, he leads me over to the French doors at the rear of the room. “I need you nearby at all times,” he says, pointing outside. “We have a guest house you can stay in.”
I peer through the glass, at the patio and the pool. On the other side, nestled in the trees, is another structure built in the same style as this one.
“It’s small, but it has its own kitchen and everything,” Callum says. “You think you can make it work?”
“I travel light.” I run my fingers over the keys in my pocket. “Most of my stuff is in storage down south.”
He nods, stepping away from the French doors. “Speaking of down south, I need to go to San Diego today. You good with sticking around, starting now?”
“That’s what we agreed on,” I say, looking around. The house is still quiet. “When will I meet your girl?”
“When she wakes up.” He shrugs, yawning. “Which should be soon. I told her you were coming today, so she’s expecting you.”
Callum shows me the rest of the property, letting me know I can park wherever I want as long as I don’t block the garage. He gives me the key codes to the gate, front door, and guest house, the latter of which I’ll be changing as soon as possible, then points out the security cameras at the front and back doors. Even with the most cursory of glances, I can tell they’ll be easy to override.
“Can you monitor these from your phone?” I ask.
Callum nods. “There’s one at the front gate, too. In fact, go ahead and download the app. I’ll give you the log-in so you can keep an eye on things when I’m gone.”
He disappears into his bedroom, leaving me on my own. I’m at the kitchen counter, downloading the security app, when voices outside prick my ears. I reach for my gun right as the front door opens and two guys walk in, one tall and skinny, the other built like a linebacker. My hand falls to my side. Callum’s friends. They were at the club last night.
Mac’s all right, but Griffin’s got the personality of a brick wall. They smoke out by the pool until Callum emerges from his bedroom with wet hair and a flushed face. He’s in yet another designer hoodie and matching sweats, all white, with spotless white Jordans on his feet. Flashy gold chain, flashy gold watch.
“There’s coffee if you need it,” he says, pointing to the machine on the counter. “And plenty of food in the fridge. Make yourself at home.”
I’ll just wait until I can hit up the grocery store myself, but I nod. “Thanks. ”
“Any vices I should know about?” he asks, the playfulness in his voice immediately setting me on edge.
“A little weed, a little beer,” I reply. “That a problem?”
“Nah. You ever need something a little harder, just let me know.” He plucks a small baggie of white powder from his pocket, watching me carefully. “You won’t find shit this pure anywhere else.”
Guess Cedro was right—Callum really does like to play in the snow. But I don’t, and even if I did, the people I work for don’t like us messing with the hard stuff. It’s too easy to lose control. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
Shrugging, he repockets the baggie and grabs his keys. “I’ll be back tonight, late. Maybe tomorrow.”
I nod, looking past him to the girl who’s just walked into the kitchen. You’d think a guy like Cal would be with a plastic girl with perfect everything, but that’s not what Maeve is. Slender and tall, she’s wearing leggings, a t-shirt, and a loose cardigan that comes to her knees. Her pale skin seems to be makeup-free, and her dark hair is pulled into a long ponytail that hangs over one shoulder. Our eyes meet for just a second—hers are possibly the greenest I’ve ever seen—and then she’s pulling a coffee mug from the cabinet. “You must be my new keeper,” she says.
“Maeve, Jaime.” Callum sniffs, checking his phone. “Jaime, Maeve.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“Same,” she says blandly, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “When’s my car going to be ready, Callum?”
He sighs loudly, like this is a conversation they’ve had many times before. “The part it needs still hasn’t come in?—”
“So, take it somewhere else. I’m tired of waiting. I don’t need a driver when I can just drive myself.” Maeve glances at me. “No offense.”
She’s pretty enough to be a distraction. Not an ideal situation if we’re going to be working in close quarters, but I’ve dealt with worse.
“None taken,” I say.
“I don’t want you out there on your own.” Cal sounds bored as he drops his phone into his pocket. It’s obvious this is an argument they’ve had many times before. “There’s too much weird shit going on. I feel better knowing someone’s watching your back.”
“I hardly go any?— "
“Listen, I gotta run,” he interrupts, lightly smacking her ass as he leans in to kiss her.
Stiffening, she turns her face so that he gets her cheek. I expect him to be embarrassed or annoyed at her blatant disrespect, but he just gives me a cocky grin. “Play nice. Call me if you need me.”