Chapter 7
Trevor
This is… Not at all what I expected.
I had a mental image of what I thought Maren’s life outside of work was like. Assumed she lived in some cool loft above one of the businesses in town. That she spent her free time thrifting and drinking too much. What I’m looking at now is about as opposite of that as it gets.
The trailer where Maren lives isn’t run down or unkempt, but it is old. And small. The entire thing would fit in my great room.
And that includes the ramp she rolled a little girl in a wheelchair up.
A little girl who must be her daughter.
“Fuck.” I scrub one hand over my face, trying to wrap my brain around all this new information. This new version of the woman I thought I knew.
Maren has a kid. A kid who’s in a wheelchair. A kid who’s in a wheelchair and is the reason for her new van.
The longer I consider it, the more it actually makes sense. How money motivated she is. The insurance she couldn’t wait to sign up for. The way she is always out the door at five twenty sharp.
What doesn’t make sense, is why no one seems to know this.
Never once have I heard Maren mention her little girl.
There’s no pictures of her on Maren’s desk.
No conversations about school or child care.
No clues for me to put together in any way that would have led me to this conclusion.
It’s almost like she doesn’t want me to know about her personal life. Doesn’t trust me with that information.
Look, I know I’m a prick. I don’t pretend otherwise. And I know she started as just another nameless, faceless temp. But I would’ve helped her. I sure as hell wouldn’t have tried to talk anyone out of hiring her permanently.
Well…
I might’ve still thought about it for two seconds.
But only because, deep down, I was worried that seeing Maren on a daily basis would ultimately lead me right where I am now.
Sitting in my car, as far from her front door as I can be while still having an unobscured view.
Far enough, I don’t worry Maren will see me and discover my little information gathering expedition.
Keeping the surveillance binoculars I swiped from the warehouse before I left pressed to my eyes, I fumble around with my free hand, grabbing one of the energy drinks I chug like water when Ruth isn’t looking.
Just as I manage to crack it open, a car slowly rolls up to Maren’s trailer.
It parks across the tiny driveway, and a man gets out.
He leaves the engine running as he jogs up to the porch carrying a couple of plastic bags.
He knocks, waiting until it opens. I get a tiny peek at Maren’s smiling face as she greets him, taking the plastic bags as he says something she responds to.
I thought it was just a delivery of some sort, but this seems a little friendlier than that. Like she knows this guy.
Sitting up straighter in my seat, I get a little concerned that maybe she knows him the same way she knows me, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do if Maren lets him inside.
I do know it will not be great.
Lucky for everyone involved, Maren starts closing the door on him, giving a little wave before basically shutting it in his face.
The guy stands there for a second longer, like he hopes she’ll open it and speak to him again.
After a minute, he finally turns away, going back to the car idling at the curb.
“That’s right. Get your ass out of here.
” I continue staring through the binoculars as I flail across the passenger seat, managing to get my hand on the protein bar I found in one of my desk drawers.
Tearing it open with my teeth, I take a big bite, chewing through the slightly chalky texture as I watch the guy leave the neighborhood.
When it becomes obvious nothing interesting is going to happen, I shift my field of vision away from Maren’s trailer, scoping out the area she calls home.
It’s woefully unsecure. There’s no gate at the entrance.
Over the years, people have added on to the structures, creating a network of blockades that make it hard to easily see from one property to the next.
If someone crawled through one of Maren’s windows, no one would ever know it was happening.
Except for me. But I can’t sit here watching twenty-four hours a day.
That’s not entirely true. I can’t physically be in this specific location twenty-four hours a day. There is a way I could watch as often as I wanted.
I zero in on a spot on the top ledge of Maren’s porch.
I could easily mount a camera she likely wouldn’t be able to see from the ground.
There’s another position tucked into the corner of her roofline where the gutter would mostly hide another device.
As long as their coloring matched what was around them, I don’t think she’d ever know they were there.
Especially since it seems like she has her hands more than full when she’s trying to get inside.
Which is one more reason someone should be making sure everything is okay.
Maren was so distracted as she wheeled her daughter up the ramp, anyone could’ve rushed out, forced her inside, and no one would’ve been the wiser.
It only makes sense that I put a little more security here. It’s in her best interest.
Plus, she’s essentially my employee, and running McKinley Security Systems is my responsibility. Making sure the people who work for us are all safe and healthy falls directly on my shoulders. I’m almost required to do this.
I’m not sure Walker will see it the same way, though, so I have to come up with a logical reason why I need cameras from the warehouse. I settle back in my seat as I let my eyes roam the area again. I’m sure I can figure something out.
“You look weird this morning.” Ruth gives me a once-over as she carries in my first cup of coffee. “Why do you look weird?”
“I don’t look weird.” Tired, maybe. Weird, no. “I look the way I always do.”
Ruth shakes her head, crossing both arms over her chest as I take a sip of the steaming beverage. “You absolutely do not.” Her eyes narrow. “You look like you’re up to something.”
“I’m not up to anything except looking over the reports from the end of the first quarter.” It’s not a lie. Currently, report assessment is the only thing I’m up to.
Last night was a completely different story.
“I don’t believe you.” She purses her lips. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”
I watch my future sister-in-law walk away, wondering how in the hell I ended up with two mothers up my ass all the time. I even pay one of them to do it, which I’m not sure says anything good about me.
Speaking of, I should probably give Ruth a raise. She hasn’t been here long, but she’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. She knows exactly how I like my coffee, is always punctual and organized, doesn’t tolerate my bullshit…
And has never tried to blow up my company.
I polish off my cup of coffee, swallowing it down before leaning to peer out the open door to make sure Ruth is occupied.
Then I open the new app I downloaded to my phone.
The one that displays the cameras I mounted outside Maren’s trailer last night.
Getting the job done in my suit was a little trickier than I expected, but I managed.
Between the trip back here to get the equipment I needed, and creeping around to accomplish my task unnoticed, I didn’t get more than an hour of sleep last night.
But it’s worth it when I see the unobstructed view I have of Maren’s home.
If anything strange happens, there will be a full recording of the event.
Plus, I can always check in and make sure everything is okay.
I’m just looking out for her. For her daughter.
This simply makes it possible for me to accomplish that without staking out their neighborhood every night.
Because that would be weird.
Confident everything looks as it should, I tuck my phone into the pocket of my slacks and head for the meeting I scheduled with my contact at the temp agency.
We offer them a good amount of business, so I don’t feel bad making him come here.
I’d much rather have this conversation face-to-face, and I want to have it now.
He’s waiting in my preferred meeting room when I get there, looking a little nervous. Good. It gives me the upper hand. And I like it that way.
Maren is never nervous to talk to me. Actually, I’m pretty sure the thought of it enrages her.
For some reason, I’m smiling as I sit down in the seat, and the temp agency’s manager relaxes a little. Which is a mistake.
“I think you’re sending us unscreened temps, Mark.
” I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers.
“The guy you sent to handle my supply organization and distribution is shit.” As I stare him down, all signs of comfort evaporate.
“So were the last ten temps you sent to help Walker in the warehouse.” I angle a brow.
“I’d like to know why you think it’s a great idea to scrape the bottom of your barrel and send it here? ”
Now is not the time for him to be pulling this shit. Shit I wouldn’t have known about if Maren hadn’t told me how awful the temp who took over her old job is doing. Based on what she said, I emailed everyone who interacts with the temp, asking if they were having any issues.
Nearly everyone was.
After explaining to each of them that this is something they should have brought to my attention, I started collecting documentation.
Ruth compiled it all in a cute little folder for me.
The same folder I drop in front of the temp manager now.
“Go through this and tell me why each of these people were approved.” I cross both arms over my chest, tipping my head at the stack of paper. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
I don’t actually want to wait. I don’t have time for this shit. The list of tasks I have to handle is long and varied, and I really didn’t fucking need this added to it.
Mark looks from the folder to me, then back to the folder again. “I’ll have to have my hiring manager look over it and get back to you.”
“So you don’t know?” Another wrong answer.
“How is it that you run a company and have no clue what’s going on with the single task your company specializes in?
” I brace one arm against the table, leaning closer to where he sits.
“You know how big this company is. I know everything that happens here.”
Almost everything. I didn’t know Maren had a daughter. A fact that still chafes.
“You’re right.” He shifts in his seat. “I will take over your account personally. Interview everyone we send here.”
“Unfortunately, that’s too little, too late.” I flip open the folder he hasn’t even touched, revealing the paper on top of the stack. “That is my formal revocation of our contract. We will no longer be requiring your services.”
Mark’s jaw drops. “You’re just going to drop us over one mistake?”
“It’s not one mistake, Mark.” I tap the stack of papers. “You would know that if you’d looked at a single one of these reports.”
I stand, because I’m done here. There’s nothing more to talk about.
The decision has been made. I genuinely hated making it.
Not because I want to give Mark my business, but because now I’ve added yet another task to my list. I’ve also added another task to Titus’s team, because they’ll have to do full background checks on everyone we consider instead of just a deep dive on potential new-hires.
It’s not a perfect solution by any means, but I’ve learned time and time again that I can’t rely on other people.
If I want something done right, I have to do it myself.
I leave Mark sputtering behind me as I stride out of the room, steps quick. And in the wrong direction.
Instead of going to my office, I accidentally find my way to Titus’s wing. Specifically, Brooke’s office.
Mostly the space just outside of it, where Maren sits at her desk, eyes locked on her computer screen with an amount of focus I’ve always found impressive.
I suppose it makes sense that she can lock in, given the distraction I assume children can present.
I know if Mariah wants to get anything done, she basically has tunnel vision, working quickly and efficiently to complete the task before one of the twins starts screaming. Or throws up.
Kids are cute, but they’re disgusting.
As if she can sense my presence, Maren’s head snaps in my direction. Her eyes narrow, and she scowls. Just like she always does when she realizes it’s me. “Can I help you?”
“No. I’m not in need of help.” For some reason I’m amused that I know something she doesn’t know I know, and I find myself invading her space. Propping one hip against her desk as I snag a pen from her organizer. “I just came to tell you I’m replacing the temp handling supplies.”
Her brows lift. “With who?”
“With whoever you choose.” I click the pen open, inspecting its felt tip.
“Whoever I choose?” She snorts. “I don’t work for the temp agency anymore.”
“That’s good, because we don’t use the temp agency anymore.
” I think I want a pen like this. I like the shape of the barrel.
“I have five people coming this afternoon to interview for the various temp spots that are now vacant, and I would like for you to sit in and tell me who you think can handle the supplies best.”
Maren’s brows pinch together, like I’ve confused her. “Why?”
“You were the best person we ever had in that position, and I trust your judgment.” I stand. “Interviews start at two.” I turn, happy to have yet another task off my list.
“Trevor.” Maren snaps out my name.
I turn, expecting her to argue. To tell me finding a new supply clerk is not her job.
Instead, she holds out her hand. “Give me my fucking pen back.”
I slowly walk to her and gently place it in her open palm, making sure to drag my fingers over her soft skin as I do.
Maren sucks in a breath as her hand clenches around the pen. She yanks the appendage away from me, clutching it against her chest.
It takes everything I have not to smirk. She thinks she can pretend we aren’t going to fuck again, but her reaction to my touch proves that’s a lie.
So I give her a wink, feeling pretty fucking good about my odds. “I’ll see you at two.”