3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
— WALK ME HOME BY PINK
Fuck.
I didn't think that falling into our old patterns so quickly would hit me like this. She fell right into place as I escorted her from the building. Bree might be the best client I’ve ever had…but one I wish I never met.
A girl like her doesn't deserve to be going through this again. Again. God, I hate that word. I hate that this is happening, that I’m back here so soon.
If I could kill the fucker, I would. It would be much easier than watching Bree retreat into herself.
But I can’t. All I can do is hope that my team and I can protect Bree to the best of our ability and pray it’s enough. I’ve never lost a client, and I don’t plan on my first loss being Bree.
I look at her in the rearview mirror, her eyes glassy and staring straight ahead, as if she’s not really here. It reminds me of who she was when I met her—jumpy, scared, and very clearly traumatized. I still don't know exactly what happened, but I know enough. Bree never told me the nitty gritty details, and I never pressed. I knew enough to do my job, and that’s all I needed.
He assaulted her in her own home, and it got to that point because nobody in her life—besides her sister and manager—thought the threats were bad enough.
I focus my eyes back on the road, trying not to think of the worst-case scenario, before I clear my throat. “So, has he tried to contact you since he was released?” Ralph was a big fan of leaving notes and what he called gifts for Bree. When I was first assigned to her, he left about one a week until the police eventually caught him. Bree saw every single one, even the ones that detailed what he was going to do when he got his hands on her.
My skin still crawls thinking about it, and I don't scare easily. There’s just something about this case, about him, about Bree, that makes me extra protective. “Bree?”
She shakes out of whatever haze she was just in before she meets my eyes in the mirror. “Sorry, did you say something?”
Fuck. She’s distancing herself again. When I met Bree four years ago, the first thing I pegged about her was that when reality got too tough to deal with, she’d enter a different one. Whether through a book, music, or her own head, she would go somewhere else that made her feel safe. I don't blame her, not after all she’s been through.
She used to have this…glow about her, especially in the end after he was caught. Even though she felt broken, it was like all the pieces that made her who she was shined through. Even on her worst days, her light still lingered in the air around her. I don't see that anymore. I see someone struggling and trying to hide it from the rest of the world, but Bree should know that she could never hide from me. “It’s nothing we can’t talk about another time.”
Her mouth opens as if she wants to say something, but she decides against it. “Did you want to ask me something, Bree?”
“You have a team now.” It’s not phrased as a question, but I nod. “How did that happen? ”
“It’s a long story, but a friend of mine, we created a company together—security and protection services. He handles the security aspect, and I run the protection side. We expanded so much that I needed more help.” When Bree and I first met, I was employed under a different agency, and when I met Nico, we decided to team up. I wouldn't call us friends—Nico disagrees—but more or less friendly coworkers.
“I wasn't aware you let yourself have friends, Vince. What happened to no personal attachments? Or have your rules changed since I last saw you?”
I catch the smirk at the end of her sentence, and I feel my lips perk up as well. “I’ve added about six more since I saw you. Don't worry, Nico gives me as much shit as you do for my rules, but there's a reason why I have them.” And I’ve already broken one of them for you. Two, if you count how I touched your hair in front of the elevator. I’ve got to get my head on straight and focus on the task at hand—protecting Bree.
“I know, I know. They’re important to you, and it’s why you’re so good at your job. I’m just messing with you.”
“When I move in, I’ll put a framed photo of my rules in every room, so don't test me.”
Her eyes widen. “Sorry, when you what?”
“I plan on moving into your house, Bree. I know you live somewhere different now, and it has more space, so I decided that’s what’s best for the time being. It’s how I know you’ll be safe, and I can protect you easiest from underneath your own roof. But only if it’s okay with you, of course.”
“It’s okay with me, Vince.” She takes a big deep breath. “Thank you for asking.”
“I’m just doing my job, Bree.”
“Right, but still, thank you for coming back. How’s your sister, Aria?”
“She’s okay. Currently living in Seattle with her husband.”
“That’s nice.”
That’s another thing about Bree—if you tell her something about yourself, she’ll remember it. She’s ridiculously good at remembering small details, and I have no doubt she’ll ask for a full list of the names of my team members soon. She’s never not thinking about other people.
Being here with Bree is much better than the last asshole I protected. I normally don't talk poorly about former clients, but now that I’m off his case, I can say he really deserved to get punched by his ex-wife. He was some high up official in Italy who needed a bodyguard because his wife found out he was cheating on her—with about twenty different women. I stuck Romero—another one of my guys—on his case when I dropped everything to get back here. I got her text a week ago, and my heart dropped. I tried to shake it off and focus, but I couldn't. All my thoughts were on her and if she was safe. Then her sister called me—apparently, Bree doesn't feel safe with anyone but me. I told her the same thing—that I was already on a case—but after that conversation, I could barely sleep. I wasn’t focused, so I dropped my case early and handed it off—which is something I’ve never done.
I have an unwritten list of rules that most people acquainted with me make fun of. Rule number four is to always see a case through.
Which I didn't. I couldn’t care less about what happens to the fucker. I’m right where I need to be right now, and I don't regret my decision.
Not one fucking bit.
“So, is Liv still here with you? Wasn't that the plan when you got this new house?” I’d feel better knowing Liv has been with her the entire time, that Bree hasn't been by herself in this house for years.
“She was, but she eventually got her own place, and now she lives with Tristan.”
That’s a name I haven't heard in a while. I’ve never met this Tristan guy, but I knew Bree talked to him, so I ran a full background check way back when. He was clean, and Bree seemed to trust him, but I was still cautious of anyone who wasn't Liv. Even Bree’s parents were on my shit list. I wonder if they’re still around. Bree always talked about cutting contact. “They’re still together? Wow, good for them.”
“Well, they haven't been together this entire time. A few days after you left, they broke up. It’s a long story. They only recently got back together after four years apart.”
Damn. I don't have the brain power to keep up with this. I’m thirty-three years old, but my mind might as well be a hundred. I work slowly and methodically, and the speed of this day and age is terrifying. That’s why Nico handles the technological aspect of our company and I do the more physical component. It’s much fucking easier for my brain. “Oh, wow.”
“Yeah, it’s been a crazy few years.” She averts her gaze to the window, and I don't bother trying to keep our conversation going; I can tell she’s somewhere else right now. It kills me that I can’t help her, but I hope my presence is enough for her to know that she’s safe.
A few minutes later, I pull onto her street and take the path to her driveway. Her new house is nice—and fucking huge. It’s a bit secluded for my liking, but the gate in front of her house makes me feel better.
“The code is—”
I’ve already punched it in before she can finish her sentence. “Liv told me.”
“You talked to my sister?”
“She called me the day after you texted me. Gave me all the information I needed for when I got here.” I might hate most family members of my clients—they usually don't give a fuck about the safety of their loved ones—but Liv is one of the good ones. She genuinely cares about her sister and acts more like Bree’s parent than their biological ones. If Bree trusts her, I trust her, plain and simple.
I park in her driveway, opting not to use the garage before I’ve had a chance to look around, and get out of the black Tahoe with tinted windows. My guys get out of theirs too, since they were following me here. I open Bree’s door for her and escort her to her front porch as I look around. The property plans said she has around 4,000 square feet of living space, and a few acres surround her too. It’s bigger than her old house, but my team can handle it.
I don't hear her key turning in the lock, and when I look at Bree, her face has gone pale. I follow her unblinking eyes to the front porch, where a manilla envelope sits, her name drawn in red marker on the front.
“Get behind me,” I say as I pull her flush to my back. I don't know what this is, and if it’s anything dangerous, I’d rather it hit me first. “You haven't ordered anything recently?”
I feel her shake her head against my back before I call Emerson over to inspect it. He has bomb squad training, and at least he can tell me if there’s a device in or attached to it. It looks a little too small, and that was never Ralph’s MO. He much preferred breaking Bree down psychologically with notes, letters, and details . The fucker liked messing with her head, and it doesn't surprise me that he’s picking up where he left off.
“It’s clear. It just looks like some pictures and a note.” Emerson steps back, and I move toward the package, feeling Bree grip my jacket like a lifeline.
“Get Bree back in the car while I sweep the house. Take this and bag it so Nico can analyze it.”
“I–I can’t do this again.” Bree’s voice is shaking. I haven't heard her this scared in a long time.
I turn to face her. “Let’s get you back to the car where it’s safe, and I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, okay? You remember this part, don't you?”
She can barely look at me. Her eyes are glassy, petrified, and her gaze is shooting all over the place. I place a hand on her lower back, and as we get back to the car, she lets me open her door so she can slide in, still breathing heavily. “Y-Yes. You search every part of my house, and when it’s clear, I can come in. When it’s clear, that means I’m safe. ”
I nod at her, happy she remembers. “I thought you had a security system.”
“I did. I do. It should've notified me if the gate was opened or if there was motion at any of the doors, but I never got anything.”
Fuck. “Then we’ll get you a better one. I’ll call Nico tonight and ask him to set one up. He’s the only fucker I trust in terms of security, and soon, your entire house will be wired with state-of-the-art protection.”
“Isn't that just you?”
Damn right it is. I turn to my team of four and look them all in the eyes. “Emerson, you’re with me. Duncan and Chris, I want you to sweep the surrounding property. Kenner, you protect that girl with your life. Close the door to the car and make sure nobody else is around watching outside the gates. Let’s go.”
When I open the package an hour later and a few photos of Bree fall out, my stomach drops. I feel Bree tense up beside me before she gives context to the pictures.
“This is from two days ago. I had to go to the grocery store.”
Jesus. I pull the note out, and when I read it, my body goes cold.
Cat got your tongue? My shackles are gone, and now I’m back to setting my traps.
Sleep tight, Bree. I’ll see you soon.
You don't know how long I’ve waited for this.
“I-I’m gonna go upstairs and shower,” Bree tells me as she turns away from the table and heads to her room .
I look at Chris and Emerson as they watch her leave. “Make copies and send them to Nico. See if he can identify where they were taken and when.” I turn around and catch up to Bree as she walks up her stairs.
“Are you okay?” I ask, but she ignores me, or she’s too in her head to hear me saying anything. By the time we get to the top of the stairs, I grab her shoulder and turn her towards me. “Tell me how you’re feeling, Bree. Tell me what’s going through your mind.”
“Nothing. I just need to go take a shower,” she tells me, still not looking in my eyes. “I’m fine, Vince. Really. I’ll be down later for dinner, okay?”
I can only nod at her as she speed-walks to her room and softly shuts the door behind her.