Chapter 1 Seth
SETH
The man rests half an ass cheek on my desk and folds his arms across his chest.
My left hand twitches, and I drum my fingers on my thigh. I hate people touching my desk. But I’m good mannered enough not to say anything.
The man is a guest in my home. Well, kind of.
Patrick Folley is a potential client, and Bronn asked to do the meeting at my home office because it’s the kind of job that requires my particular set of special skills.
Although, judging by the incredulous look on Bronn’s face, I’m not sure we’re going to take the job.
“You want us to spy on your daughter?” Bronn repeats what Patrick has just told us, though Patrick went about it in a more roundabout kind of way. “We’re a security firm. We provide security. We’re not private detectives.”
“I know what you are,” Patrick says, unfolding his arms and fixing Bronn with a steely stare. “You’re ex-special forces. We all know that means James Bond kind of shit.”
I sigh inwardly and keep my gaze well away from Bronn, or else we’d both end up rolling our eyes.
“Not quite,” Bronn chuckles.
He’s much better at client relations than I am. I’d have told this guy to fuck off.
“It means we’re tough motherfuckers who aren’t afraid of a fight. You want security on your girl, we’ve got her covered. But we don’t do spying.”
Patrick holds up his hands. There are calluses on his palms and a plain gold band squeezed on his thick finger that looks like it hasn’t come off in years. I wonder how he made his money because he does have money. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here.
“You misunderstand me. I don’t want to know what my daughter is doing.” He winces slightly. He does care what she’s doing. He cares very much. “She wants her freedom, and I’m not going to get in her way. But it’s a big scary world out there, and if something were to happen to her…”
He trails off and puts a hand over his eyes. The gesture is so sincere that I feel sorry for the guy. This is more than a regular father looking out for his daughter. I’d bet a week of beer money that there’s more to this story than a protective father not wanting his little girl to grow up.
My fingers itch to get on my keyboard and look into this guy. I flex them and clasp my hands together.
I’ll have to wait ‘til he leaves before I do any digging. Even if we don’t take the job, and I can tell from the look on Bronn’s face that it’s unlikely, my curiosity has been piqued.
It’s an occupational hazard in my line of work—curiosity. Having to know everything about everyone makes me good at what I do.
Patrick lowers his hand and gives Bronn a weak smile.
“I just want you to keep an eye on her. Watch where she’s going and who she’s hanging out with. If she’s out at night, make sure she gets home safe. If she meets anyone online, make sure they’re not an asshole.”
I glance at Bronn. This is why I’m here. If you want online surveillance, I’m your guy. But it’s a gray area, legally and ethically.
“I don’t need to know who she’s spending time with. I just need to know she’s all right. And if there’s ever any danger, if she’s in any trouble, you step in.”
“You want twenty-four-hour surveillance on your daughter?” Bronn asks.
There’s uncertainty in his voice, and I don’t blame him. Babysitting isn’t our usual gig.
“Yes,” Patrick says simply. “That’s what I want.”
Bronn looks at me. I meet his gaze and shake my head almost imperceptibly, letting him know I don’t think it’s a good idea.
We’re a security firm. Any surveillance we do usually has the consent of the person we’re watching. It feels too sneaky for me, invading a young woman’s privacy just to give her old man peace of mind.
“I can pay you double your usual fee,” Patrick adds hastily.
This makes Bronn pause. Not because he needs the money, but because this guy must be desperate.
Patrick takes his butt off my desk and pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket. “Here’s the first payment right here.”
It’s a lot of money, and he shoves it at Bronn, a look of desperation on his face.
Bronn doesn’t take the money. He shakes his head slowly, but before he can speak, the man takes a photo out of his back pocket and holds it up to us.
“This is Kayla.”
The photo shows two young women smiling widely. They both have the same sunshine-colored hair and apple-shaped cheeks. The one on the left has her hair cut short in a severe cut, her eye makeup drawn dramatically. But it’s the one on the right I can’t take my eyes off.
Her hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders.
Her arm’s dropped casually around the woman who must be her sister, and her head’s tilted back in a laugh, showing straight white teeth and a pink tongue.
She’s not wearing any makeup, but her looks are striking.
Pale skin and full lips, a dusting of freckles over her cherub nose.
“Which one’s Kayla?”
It’s the first time I’ve spoken, and Patrick looks at me in surprise, like he’s forgotten I’m here. I’m used to that reaction. I’m good at blending into the background, at going unnoticed.
“The one on the right.” He taps the photo, indicating the laughing girl with sparkling eyes and full lips.
The more I stare at the photo, the stranger I feel, like I know her, like I’ve always known her. Even though I’m sure we’ve never met.
Bronn opens his mouth to say something, but I get in first.
“We’ll take the job.”
I can feel Bronn’s eyes shooting daggers at me, but I don’t look at him. I keep my eyes on that photo, on the girl who I’ve never met but whose image I know will forever be etched into my brain.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her carefree look and laughter are what I fought for.
The man is shaking my hand gratefully, telling me how thankful he is. I barely hear him I’m so focused on that picture.
“I’ll need this.”
I snatch the photo out of his hands and push up out of my chair.
While Patrick works out the details with Bronn, I head over to my main PC and bank of computer screens.
I’ve been sitting so long that pins and needles shoot through my bad leg. It fucking hurts when I stand up, but I keep my expression neutral.
Dragging my leg over to the desk at the far side of the room, I tuck the photo into the side of the screen and fire up the main PC.
I’m already typing “Kayla Folley” into my search engine before the man leaves. I have to know everything about this woman.