Chapter Four
Slices of sun broke through the canopy of sugar maples and oak trees, dotting and disappearing over the windshield as the rented SUV jumbled over weathered ruts and past security sensors.
Jason glanced out his window and waved at the well-hidden camera hidden in the old growth of a tulip poplar, no doubt irking his boss.
Buck Baer was an asshole and wore that badge with pride.
It’d been Jason’s first clue that his employer would be the cause of future heartburn and headaches.
Unkempt branches smacked as he continued to the hunting cabin that housed one of GSI’s satellite offices. Jason eased the SUV next to two equally unmemorable, untraceable cars and stepped out into the cool summer mountain air. Today would be the last day he’d visit this Appalachian haven.
His mind wandered. What would it take to get Roxana to go camping?
They wouldn’t have to rough it in a tent.
Maybe a cabin in a state park? He liked this area, and though Jason hadn’t explored Pike Mountain outside of GSI’s property lines, he could envision Roxana hiking.
One day, he’d convince her that she was more outdoorsy than she gave herself credit for.
Their new hiking adventures could be part of this new chapter in his life that would start today—or actually, had already started yesterday, when she’d said yes.
Hell, the entire course of his life shifted when they first met.
No one inside GSI’s cabin would understand why Roxana made his world turn.
They couldn’t fathom decisions like marriage or settling down, finding a normal job with a normal life.
Jason didn’t fault them. Until their paths collided, he had the same mindset.
Jason walked behind the wall of split logs and the beater of a pickup truck that offered coverage to the front door.
If anyone were stupid enough to ignore the bevy of TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT signs, they’d stumble upon a timeworn hunting cabin with a battered wraparound porch and see two rockers with peeling paint in front of dusty, cobwebbed, bulletproof windows.
The porch steps creaked, and the front door still lay ajar, waiting for someone to come by with a screwdriver and tighten the hinges. Today wasn’t that day, and Jason let it slam behind him.
A retina and fingerprint scanner identified him by his position title.
Today was his last day as a Watcher. The undescriptive job label grouped a variety of tasks that might otherwise fall into categories like military operations or espionage.
Over the years, his assignments had ranged from spotting for snipers to studying a target’s behavior.
No two days were ever alike. The unpredictability had been a perk.
Now, it didn’t match the life he wanted.
The vault-like door's unlocking mechanism engaged with rhythmic whirring clicks. The entrance opened into the rugged office space. An eight-point deer head hung as the centerpiece of the room on the impenetrable, exposed wood walls. Jason stepped through the door.
His boss, Buck, sat on one of two well-worn leather couches on either side of an oversized wood table.
If the building’s exterior was the face of a timeworn hunting lodge, the inside mirrored Buck’s expensive, often ostentatious taste, much like the company’s headquarters.
Jason had only visited that office once—his first week on the job when he was required to meet with Human Resources, and he’d walked out of the building feeling as if they specialized in covering the company’s ass more than managing their manpower.
But, right after college, what did he know? It was his first “real” job that didn’t pay by the hour. He tried to appreciate that it was prudent for a security company like GSI to have a cover-your-ass policy in addition to their fantastic health insurance and a matching 401K.
Buck set down an etched crystal glass and leaned into the leather couch. His dark, tailored suit clashed against the cabin’s aesthetic in the same way his three fingers of bourbon disagreed with the early morning time of day. “Long time, no see.”
Jason tried to picture his boss as an Army Ranger but couldn’t. “Thanks for the meeting.”
“In this little slice of heaven?” The glint of a large gold watch peeked from Buck’s shirt sleeve as they shook hands. “Twist my arm.”
Their amicable laughter was shaded with the unknown. Buck hadn’t asked Jason why he’d requested the face-to-face sit down, and Jason had no clue if Buck would understand his reasons for leaving the firm—not that Jason planned to get into the nitty-gritty of his growing distaste.
Buck picked up his glass. “Get you one?”
Jason picked up on Buck’s slight slur and the glassiness in his eyes and added a possible problem with alcohol to his ever-growing list of concerns.
An analyst named Charles, whom Jason had often worked with, walked into the living room with a full coffee pot and mug.
Buck snarled. “Did you hear anyone ask for that crap?”
Charles glanced at Jason, silently warning him that Buck Baer was a jackass when he was drunk. Big surprise. “I’d take some. Where are the mugs?”
“Leave the mug and the pot,” Buck barked.
Charles shared another look with Jason as he handed over the mug and then set the pot on the table. It didn’t take a genius to see that Buck had rubbed Charles the wrong way.
Jason poured his coffee. “When’d you get in?”
“Here?” Buck reached for his glass and guzzled a finger’s worth. “Whenever the helicopter arrived.” He ran his tongue along his gums. “Let’s get down to business.”
Irritation needled under Jason’s skin. “Maybe we should do this another time.”
“You’ve got somewhere more pressing to be?” Buck slammed his glass onto the coffee table and sloshed bourbon onto his hand. He brought his knuckles to his mouth and licked the liquor before his expression shifted from angry to cordial. “You know what you need?”
Jason could’ve predicted the words.
“A drink,” Buck finished.
“It’s okay. I have a long drive back.”
“Suit yourself, pansy.”
Drunk or not, that sounded more like his boss. Jason refocused on his goal. Quitting wasn’t one of his talents, but the thought of a future with Roxana ballooned in his chest. “I appreciate the opportunity you’ve afforded me—”
“Wait a damn minute.” Scrutinizing lines creased Buck’s forehead. “Are you shitting me?”
“I need a change.”
“Bullshit. You want more money?”
“No—”
“More responsibility?”
“No, I don’t want anything.” Jason straightened his shoulders. “I’m giving my two weeks’ notice.”
Buck remained still as a sniper buried in hostile territory and looked as if he were still waiting for Jason to speak.
An uneasy sensation ascended Jason’s spine. It wasn’t irritation or aggravation. More like concern that Buck Baer’s questionable, greedy overreach had more of an instability problem than Jason had realized. “Or whatever you consider standard.”
Buck reached for his glass and drained it. “Why?”
Even before they’d sat down, Jason had decided that his personal plans wouldn’t be part of the discussion. “It’s time for a change.”
“You know,” Buck said calmly, then slammed his empty glass onto the table. “I heard those exact words yesterday. Lost a big contract.” He snarled, mocking, “It’s time for a change. Do you know what that means?” The veins on Buck’s temples bulged, and a growl rumbled. “Problems with my bottom line.”
“Sorry about that—”
Buck leaned into the couch and steepled his fingers. “Timing’s interesting. You quitting after losing that contract to—” His eyes narrowed like bloodshot daggers. “You signed a non-compete.”
More like his timing sucked. Jason didn’t know the contract that had driven his boss to the bottle before ten in the morning, but he could see how dots could be connected. “I—”
Buck roared to his feet. “I want to know the cocksucker poachin’ my business.”
Jason lifted his hands and shook his head in a way that might diffuse the misunderstanding. “I’m not trying to go elsewhere.”
“I found you. I groomed you.” His nostrils flared. “Do you know how much money I’ve sunk into you? Thinking you were a dependable asset.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, boss.” He should’ve done this conversation over the phone. Damn it. “I never told you I was a lifer.”
“You are,” Buck snapped. “You’re going with that contract.” He scowled as if his brain couldn’t process the deluge of conspiracy theories. “You think I don’t see what’s going on?”
Tension knotted in his jaw, and he scrubbed a hand over his chin.
He wouldn’t explain about Roxana and wasn’t keen to dig into GSI’s problems. Jason needed to wrap this conversation and work out the details at a more sober opportunity.
“I’ll finish any assignment you have in mind.
No rush.” Which wasn’t true… “With a goal to wrap up in a few weeks.”
“Just like that? Steal a contract and walk out the door, thinking I’m a fool?”
His boss hadn’t heard a single damn thing he’d said. To hell with this conversation. Jason stood up.
Buck’s lip twitched. “You think I don’t know how you spend your time? Who you spend your time with?”
“Careful, Buck. If this conversation takes a personal turn, it won’t end well.
” Jason squared off with his boss. Buck had him on weight.
Jason had Buck on muscle and bulk. Buck had the money, the helicopters.
Jason had his woman. Confident that he’d made his point, Jason walked toward the front door.
Buck’s glare burned into Jason’s back like crosshairs. “I know about you and the woman from Titan Group.”
Jason stopped dead, not turning before he was certain he’d heard Buck correctly. “The woman from Titan Group?”
“I’ve got eyes everywhere, asshole.”
Jason pivoted. “And what woman?”
Buck snorted. “Jared Westin’s getting old and slow if he thinks I couldn’t connect the woman to his new Titan team.”
“Aces?” Jason wasn’t sure that anyone knew of Westin’s covert team. He wouldn’t have if Roxana’s brother weren’t part of it—ah, shit. Buck thought Roxana worked for Titan Group? “You’re working with bad intel.”
Buck snorted. “You have one minute to ’fess up.”
“Did you hear anything I said? I’m out. Done. Finished.”
Buck held his Rolex up as if his unfocused eyes could follow its golden hands. “Fifty seconds.”
“Whatever your problem with Titan—”
Buck snagged his empty bourbon glass and launched it against the wall. “Titan Group’s existence is a problem.” He withdrew a gold-plated Desert Eagle. “You stole my contract.”
Jason laughed. Of course, this asshole would carry a showboat of a handgun. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
Buck’s nostrils flared, and the bulging veins at his temples thickened.
“Let me make this perfectly clear for your drunk ass. I quit.” Jason pressed his thumb onto the scanner and walked out the swooshing security door.